#and if she actually decides to hear you out and consider your words?

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 37: Liminality

"What’s the King of Curses like?"  

Walking beside your mare, leading her by the reins, you incline your head toward the small boy, then to the girl perched in your saddle atop Ayana.  

It had taken some effort to get her to accept the strangers. Considering how skittish she is—and the fact that you’d just ridden her into battle—you couldn’t blame her. 

"What’s he like?" You pause, considering the question, sifting through the many words you could use to describe him. Too many. Unkind ones. And most not meant for their ears. 

"He’s…"  

Your gaze drifts, following the others walking quietly beside you on the dirt-packed road. After leaving Sukuna behind at the eastern village and heading south, you came across a few survivors. Fifteen of them.  

Fifteen out of nearly one hundred and fifty.  

That was all that remained.  

From what you gathered, their community had been large, built around rice cultivation. Now, it’s nothing. Reduced to just two numbers that hold the weight of your failures.  

"Why does he wear a piece of wood on his face?"  

Eyes wet, the boy’s voice pulls you from your dark thoughts. Your focus moves back to his rambling. You start to answer, but a sharp throb in your jaw stops you—the ache of the impact you took earlier, the bruise that you feel sitting there. Your tongue glides against the cut inside your mouth, where old coppery blood still clings. 

"I hear he’s got a second mouth right here." He points to his stomach, eyes eager and round. "I heard it also has enormous teeth and a slimy tongue and everything."  

"Gross." The girl behind him wrinkles her nose in disgust.

"He does," you admit, though you wouldn’t say you find it disgusting. Maybe once you did.

The boy nods excitedly at your response. And that’s when it reminds you, how little people actually know about Ryomen Sukuna beyond his strength, appetite and the strange nature of his body. To them, he’s just an anomaly.

"I heard he stuffs people inside and tears their skin away to slurp it all up." The boy hesitates before his next question. "Is he gonna do that to us?"

The reins gripped tightly between your gloved hands tighten. Fuck. In your exhaustion, you hadn’t even considered that. All you’d thought about was getting them to shelter. And now, here you are, leading a group of survivors directly to the shrine.

"No," you say firmly. "He won’t eat you."  

You won’t allow it. You’d fight him first. Or, more likely, attempt to do so, given how drained you are. Though, truthfully, you’re more concerned about arriving and convincing Uraume. Without Sukuna there, and after already leaving the shrine once, your return will be… confusing.  

"Does the second mouth talk?" the boy asks. "Oh! Does he talk to the other mouth?” He leans forward toward Ayana’s curving neck, wide-eyed and curious. “Can he have full conversations with it?"

"I bet he spreads it open like this." Your attention falls on the girl again as she presses her hands against her soot-stained robe, dragging her fingers across her stomach as if prying open an invisible mouth.

"That makes no sense!"

Their voices grow louder and more animated as they discuss their wild speculation, and Ayana lets out a weary whine. You think about asking them to quiet down for your mare’s sake but decide against it. They’ve just lost their home, and if this conversation keeps them from dwelling on the horrors and the dead they left behind, you won’t take it from them.

With the villagers travelling on foot, the trek back takes longer. And by the time the sun dips behind the clouds and sinks lower, the world darkens. A queasy feeling emerges as the top of the shrine’s edifice begins to peek through the thinning trees, their bare branches reaching into the fading light.

Back again so soon.

Guiding Ayana onto the temple’s grounds, you notice the children have gone quiet, their earlier curiosity beaten by the journey. Slowing your steps, you reach up to help the girl down from the saddle. She slides off easily, small feet landing with a soft thud before you turn to the boy, lifting him with little effort.  

"There," you murmur.  

He says nothing after that, only glancing toward the shrine before taking the girl’s hand. The two of them, along with the thirteen others, stay close as you guide Ayana toward the stables.

Inside, the familiar scent of hay and musk greets you. Sukuna’s obsidian mounts shift with interest in their stalls, dark smudges against the evening light.

Leading your mare into her stall, you give her a soft pat before tucking her away. She exhales heavily, eager for rest. As you step back, your fingers brush against the letters tucked beneath her saddle, and without a second thought, you retrieve them.

Stepping out, your gaze momentarily falls to the floor—to the space where your tantō had fallen, where it had sat at your departure.  

But now there’s nothing. Only empty straw.  

Back outside, with the villagers, you guide them up the shrine’s steps. At the doors, you lift your hand to knock, knuckles poised, but they peel open before you have the chance to strike wood.

White hair. White robes stand on the other side.

“Uraume.” Respectfully, you bow your head. 

When you lift it, their severe expression is already settling into place. 

They stare at you.

“What is this?” Their focus passes over from you then to the fifteen at your back, scanning each face.  

“The attack in the east,” you begin, “these are some of the people who survived. They—”

“I can see that,” they interrupt.

A breeze drifts through, cool against your skin. You resist the urge to shift, and step between them and Uraume’s assessing eyes. 

“Why are you here?” Their focus returns, narrowing on you.

Ah. There’s the question.

“Lord Sukuna, we—” Found each other again? “He told me to return. There have been some… complications.”

Both implicated and once again bound together as two unwilling conspirators.

Stuck.

“Complications,” they repeat. “As in, you are the complication.”

It isn’t a threat, but their tone is unfamiliar, peaked with something you don’t quite recognize. Suppose things change. Your hands curl into fists. Their gaze glides downward before a look of interest ghosts across their face, and you wonder—are they thinking about fighting you?

“If that’s how you wish to see it, then yes. And if you want to challenge me, then you can,” you say, and they tilt their head, watching you. “I will fight you, and I’ll probably lose to you anyway.”

It frightens you how easily the demand leaves your mouth. You don’t want to fight Uraume, not truly. But then again, you’re tired of thinking you’re anything less than what you are.

“I’ll say this,” you continue, swallowing, and behind them, attendants gather at the end of the long passage—Ren among them. Your eyes meet before you pull them away. “Just allow them to stay for one night. That’s all I ask. When Lord Sukuna returns, I’ll deal with the consequences.”

And convince him not to devour them.

"Even if I allowed it,” Uraume exhales slowly. “Provisions are already stretched thin. We cannot offer them food."

Their words drop into your stomach. 

“Please.” You step closer. “Just one night.”

Uraume blinks at you, and after a moment, they lift a hand, motioning to the attendants. One steps forward, gesturing to the villagers to follow and slowly, one by one, they move inside the shrine, and are led down the corridors toward the central hall.

You follow, watching carefully. At the mouth of the great doors, a few hesitate, hands hovering at their sides, reluctant to settle in a place that belongs to a monster. Ren and the other attendants step in, offering what little reassurances they can offer. With gentle hands, they guide the wary in.

A woman kneels beside a man, blood soaking the front of his robe. A pair of twins curl into each other, foreheads touching, feet dirty. Some clutch what little they managed to salvage, bundles of cloth, a single heirloom wrapped tight in their arms.  

Still, silently, they draw close, allowing themselves to grieve together. A few families. Friends. Lovers… Siblings.

You should find pleasure in seeing this. But you can’t feel anything, only the hot press as a lump of feeling works its way deep into your throat. You need to be alone, need to find comfort in something familiar, even if it’s just four walls, a narrow window, and a floor.

Taking one last look at the embraces and avoiding Uraume’s eyes, you retreat from the central hall.

Moving down the corridors, your breaths grow shallow, lungs tightening and tightening, your feet soundless as you turn left, then right, then left again, spilling into the passage that holds only your and Sukuna’s rooms.  

Yours?

Was this room still yours?

So much had changed. It felt like you had lived two different lives in the fragile hours between dawn and dusk—one spent as you were, the other as something else entirely. A day of loss and gain, of being emptied of something beautiful. Something brave.  

Trembling gloved fingers brush the panelling as you slide the door to the chambers open.  

Nothing.

The futon is gone. The fabric partition. The low table. The chair. The brazier. The tatami mats. As if no one ever lived here.

A shell. Lonely. Empty.

What did you expect? 

Unwanted in two places at once. Here—and if it’s true, which it cannot be—with your sister.  

Stepping inside, you quietly close the door. The weight in your hands registers belatedly, the stack of letters, held tight, creased into your grip. You hadn’t even realized you were still clutching them. Without thinking, you place them down on the floor, on nothing, because there is nothing left to hold them. The gloves come off next, ripped from your hands and tossed aside.

Bare hands clenching into fists, you take a step, and it comes, the first tear slips out.

Then another.

And another.

It’s too much.

Fighting the urge to curl up into yourself, you simply sink to the floor because there’s nowhere to sit or to find even the smallest comfort. The rest come. And when they do, they crash over you in one great, sickening flood.

“Fuck…” you breathe through the shaking. “Fuck.”

Tears splatter from your chin to the floor, small, quiet sounds that feel too loud in the hollow space.

“You’re okay… this… everything will be okay…”

Lies never seem to taste good on your tongue, they’re just bitter falsehoods.

Fingers digging into your arms, holding tight, you hug yourself as if it will keep you together. As if you weren’t supposed to feel this exposed and fragile. But who were you kidding? It didn’t matter. You were both.

All the tender bits peeled back, raw and bare. All the emotions that made the tears fall faster.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Knock, knock, knock.

You suck in a breath, furiously wiping your eyes before turning toward the door and scrambling to your feet.

“Yes?” The word trembles as you force yourself to steady. “What is it?”

Calm.

The door slides open. Ren stands there, a pile of fresh garments in her hands. Behind her, two attendants carry a folded futon between them, keeping it from touching the ground.

“We thought…” She glances at the space, adjusting the fabric in her arms. “You’ll need somewhere to sleep, so we—” Her voice trails off as her eyes settle on your blood- and soot-stained kimono, then lift to your face.

One look at her, the softness, the guilt, the regret that’s there, and your chest constricts. 

Don’t.

Salted tears crowd your vision.

“I—” The words won’t come. Your mind is water.

“Give us a moment,” Ren murmurs, worry in her voice. The attendants bow and leave as she steps inside, shutting the door.  

The moment it closes, you think you might fall, your limbs and body so heavy that you sink back to your knees again. This time, it doesn’t stop. You let it happen, unburden yourself and cry.

Fabrics rustle as they fall to the ground, followed by two clipped steps and the swish of robes. Ren kneels. Then, gentle hands settle on your shoulders. The smallest kindness. Kinder than the way your sister held you at the harvest festival.

It’s this touch that breaks you apart.

“I don’t know what’s happening anymore.” Your voice barely carries, muffled by your palms pressing into your eyes.

That young village girl, mouth agape with blood in her teeth and screams in her chest, shudders against your eyelids.

You can’t breathe.

“What happened?” Ren asks softly, squeezing your shoulders.

“I—”

You can’t think straight, can’t see straight.

“I don’t know—”

Anything.

I don’t know anything anymore.  

“I don’t recognize myself,” your voice wavers as you fist your hands into the fabric of your kimono. “I’m confused, and—”

Lost.

Trapped between anger and the betrayal that still clings to this place—between the people here, the implications and the fucking monster you can’t seem to sever from your life. No matter how hard you push and pull against each other, you can’t seem to be separated.

“I killed so many people today.”

And I enjoyed it.

Tainted.

Tears drop onto your hands as you look down, away from her face.

“Everything feels out of control. Everything is spiralling. I want it to stop.” The droplets race faster down your cheeks, reaching your chin. “I want—”

To stop living as two different people.

“I want to go home.” You fight against a swallow that stings your throat, and her hands tighten on your shoulders. “But I have no home to return to.”

Ren says nothing, and you don’t look up at her. Not that you could, with your vision clouded and heavy with tears.

But there’s a pause. Her hands shift from your shoulders to your back, pulling you close and then the embrace.

You almost freeze. She hates being in others' spaces, yet here she is, holding you like she means it. Like she understands. And it’s what you didn’t realize you needed. Someone to keep you close, to hold you long enough for you to finally, simply, let go.

Her grip on you is a shell, and you bury your face into her shoulder, tears soaking into her garment. 

Gods knew how long you stay like this, only that it feels like weight after weight, two months of it, years of it, sliding off you. Gone. Until all that remains is an empty numbness, a good, quiet kind of empty.

“I didn’t have the chance to say this before.” Ren swallows at her words, and you hear it in her voice—the breaking. “I thought you were gone for good… and I was a coward.”

Another swallow. Her body tenses.

“But… I’m so sorry for what happened. For what I did.”

Your eyes squeeze shut at the apology until she gently leans away and brushes your hair from your face. You’re not ready to acknowledge her words. Not yet.

“You’re a mess,” she whispers, and you peek up at her, at her eyes shining before she wipes at them, only to grip your arms again.  

Leaning back, a wet, broken laugh escapes your throat.  

“I am. But I also think”—hands sweeping outward, you gesture to the entire room—“this is all a fucking mess.”  

Her brow dips as if she’s fighting a laugh, and a moment later, she lets it go.  

"That's true," she says lightly, not dismissive, just honest, like saying it out loud might make it easier to bear. And it’s the softness in her voice, the quiet acceptance of everything that led to this moment, that nearly undoes you again. You suck in a stuttering breath, willing another sob to disappear.

Hesitantly, Ren’s hands move toward your forearms, skim past your wrists, carefully avoiding your hands before retreating to her lap.

You stare at her tightly clasped fingers before you whisper, “I don’t know why I’m here.”

But you do. And it still hurts.

Ren takes a breath.

“He told you to come back… didn’t he?”

Sighing, you rub your forehead in an attempt to ease the throb settling there, and her gaze softens.

“Yes.”

She nods. The faintest nudge at the corner of her mouth says enough.

“Curious,” she hums.

Is it?

She doesn’t say anything more. Instead, she rises and turns toward the door, sliding it open just enough to call the attendants back inside. They step in quietly, setting the futon down and smoothing out the blankets. Neither of them speaks their task quick as if sensing the fragile state of the room.

Once they finish, they bow in unison. Ren nods, dismissing them for the evening, and the door slides shut behind them before turning back to you.

“Meals,” you mumble, scratching at a dry piece of blood on your kimono. “Where should I take those from now on?”

Ren’s mouth twitches into a smile.

“You can have them with us,” she offers, “if you like.”

You nod softly.

“Is there anything else you need?”  

“No.” You shake your head, then dip your chin. “I’ll be fine.”

She bows before gathering the fresh garments she brought, spreading them neatly onto the futon.  

“These are for you.” Among them is a simple robe, a yukata, and other pieces to keep you warm as the weather continues to cool. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate. Just ask me. And… I’ll figure out how to refurnish everything in here, to make sure you’re comfortable.”  

Inside your chest, something tugs.  

“Thank you,” you say before she steps silently from the room.  

Shrugging off your crusted kimono and hakama, you take in the streaks of blood and soot. It’s everywhere, and it stinks. Tossing the stiff fabric aside, you pull on the fresh yukata provided and sink under the bedding.  

The moment your head touches the pillow, your red, sore, tender eyes have already fallen shut.  

* * * * *

Sleep doesn’t come.

Even hours later, though you feel lighter, every time you close your eyes, it’s the same.

You see the young girl screaming as you fail to reach her. You see the faces of dying men at your feet. You see the wall of arrows, the darkness giving way as the pile of bodies buries you. And you see yourself, back bowing under the heat of the branding iron’s descent.

A descent into too many impossibilities.  

Traitor.  

Blinking back swollen lids, you roll over.

Betrayer. 

Arms folding across your chest, you dip your chin for comfort and shut your eyes.

Drip, drip, drip—

Your eyes snap open.

Finally.

Lying in the dark, the noise drags itself down the corridor. Thick, heel-heavy footsteps have your attention swinging to the door. They pass slowly, and they sound… wet. Dripping wet, soft, and warm.

Staring into the dark, you continue listening as Sukuna’s feet kiss the floorboards, a faint, slick suction accompanying every lift. For whatever reason, it turns your stomach.

Eventually, when he passes, you note how he takes his time to move down toward his chambers. His presence, usually a weight in the air, feels strangely absent; energy, which should flood your senses, is… muted.

Odd.

Pushing the bedding aside, you slide out of the futon and move to the door quietly. Through the tiny crack in the panel, you smell it.

Blood. Hot, fresh, rancid.

The door slides open, and you step into the passage, eyes trailing the smooth wooden floor. Copper coats your tongue. One foot out, and you drop into a crouch. A slick, ink-like path glistens in the dim light, winding down the corridor—leading to Sukuna’s chambers. You glance up, your eyes adjusting to the dark, but what little light spills from his room illuminates the doors, slightly ajar.

You look back down at the mess. Gods, the smell. It makes you sick.

Blaming some twisted sense of curiosity, you follow it to his room and peer inside. The ghostly blue light of the moon and the unlit brazier in the corner leaves the space colder than what it was last night. Your gaze drags further, and there—sprawled in the low chair by the garden door—Sukuna sits, head tipped back, four eyes closed, not a muscle moving. He looks peaceful, like he’s resting.

Until you see it.

Through the loose panels of his kimono, the mangled flesh of his chest gapes open like a black void.

He is… injured. Vulnerable in a way, he never is.

How? When you parted, he was unharmed. Now, he looks awful.

Swallowing, you clear your throat, then slip inside, pressing your feet firmly to the floor to stay silent. The fabric of your yukata hisses with each movement.  

He doesn’t stir.  

You move to stand beside the chair, where his legs stretch straight out, occupying too much space. In the dark, you can see the long, bleeding trail that rolled from his naked chest down to his bare feet, which are soaked and glistening.  

At your side, your hand twitches. You could reach out, press two fingers to his throat, and feel for the pulse that should be there. But considering he never wants you to touch him again…  

“Lord Sukuna?” you mumble, inhaling the heavy scent of iron. 

Silence.

He doesn’t move, body slack, four arms draped over the chair’s edges.

Boneless.

“Have you finally blessed us and died?”

The words crawl from your lips before you can stop them. Immediately, you wince.

Despite everything you feel about this man—which confuses you more than it should—he saved you today. Saved you and offered to make you stronger. To him, that likely carries more weight than you can fully grasp. And now, he’s your only real ally in navigating this underbelly until you find the answers you need. Trusting the King of Curses will be necessary. Difficult, but necessary.

Staring at him, still, he doesn’t move.

Your mouth twists.  

Curse him.  

Carefully, you lean forward, fingers hovering just shy of his thick, corded throat. Even from here, you feel the heat that pulses from the open wound.

If he were anyone else, this would have killed him. And unlike him, you wouldn’t have even had a chance to recover. You would be dead.

Middle and pointer fingers extending, you lower your hand toward the carotid artery buried beneath all that muscle and—

His upper left hand snaps around your wrist, holding you in place.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hisses, the bottom pair of his eyes peeling open, cutting through the dark.

So, not dead.

Your mouth pushes into a thin line.

“What does it look like?” Your brow folds. “You’re hurt.”

The words come out wrong, your voice rising in a way that sounds like concern.

Sukuna’s top pair of eyes open into slits, pinning you under the full weight of all four reds. He stares—not just to uncover your intentions, but as if you're swinging around a particularly sharp weapon. Then, just as suddenly, he releases you, skepticism clear in the slow curl of his fingers.

Silence.

You stare at each other. Two stubborn, skeptical creatures circling the other but unmoving.

It’s maddening, this limbo.

With a lazy shift, Sukuna reaches to his right, pushing open the shoji door to the garden. It rustles aside, and moonlight spills in, washing over the floor. Your gaze follows it, moving up his figure until it catches on the hole in his chest. His skin, usually sun-kissed, is pale and drained. Blood clots at the wound’s thick, ropy edges, the pulpy flesh inflamed and raw.

“And somehow that requires you to touch me?” His voice is low as he cocks his head, settling back into the chair in a way that looks anything but comfortable.

“I was seeing if you were dead.” Your eyes trace the bloodstains, obscuring the thick tattoos draped over his shoulders and chest before settling on his face.

“And after what you said about this situation pulling us together, I thought I would…” You trail off. This distrust between you, resentment, this push and pull. You’re tired of it.

“You thought you would what?”

“Your wounds.” Your throat clears, leaving the rest unsaid. “They should have healed by now. Why haven’t they? What did Zen’in—”

Sukuna flicks a finger at you from where his hand rests, cutting you off with a low grunt.

You sigh. This fragile alliance will be harder to manage than you thought.

“Are you in any pain?”  

Somehow, you don’t remember moving, but you find yourself standing between his spread legs, knees almost touching the seat of his chair. You’re unsure why you ask and his mouth twitches, eyes opening, glaring at you as if wondering the same.

“No,” he grumbles before tipping his head back and shutting his eyes again. “Now, get the fuck out.”

Fuck you—that’s what you want to say, with nothing but the barest touch of your fingertips.

But—

“You’re an insufferable ass.” Comes out as you turn away, and you catch it just before you leave—the amused baring of his fangs.

Then you're gone from his chambers.

Only to return moments later.

As you walk back, your focus slides to the raised futon, the place you woke up this morning. It’s bare. The sheets gone. The blue, luxurious quilt you swamped yourself in is also gone, like he couldn’t rid himself of what had happened last night fast enough. Like the way your body melted into his, and how he lost himself in you never happened. 

You hope the scent of you lingers anyway. Like a rotting stain.

“What are you doing?” Sukuna shifts in the chair, pushing a fist against his left cheek, eyes moving from you, to your face, to the objects in your hands.

Reaching him, you nudge apart his legs with your knee, ignoring his question as you slip between them and kneel. The basin of water meets the floor with a hollow knock, the bundle of cloth set beside it. Tucking your feet up underneath the fabric of your yukata, your face burns, but you keep your head down, already knowing the expression he wears. Instead, you sink your hands into the cool water, wringing the fresh cloth until droplets trail down your fingers, soaking the edges of your garment. Pushing to your knees, you shift closer where your hand settles on his thigh, pressing over the fabric of his hakama—a silent reassurance, I’m not going to touch your skin, monster. His muscles flex beneath your fingertips, a subtle reminder, I will never entirely trust you, snake.

Then, the damp cloth moves to his burning flesh, and you apply just a little more pressure than necessary, forcing the wound to bleed.

“Woman,” he growls.

“Oh, shut up.” Your eyes flick up to his. “I know it doesn’t hurt.”

Slouched back, Sukuna stares at you, nostrils flaring, the cloth squelches in the silence, and his lip curls slightly—disapproval in its purest form.

Your mouth fights a grin.

Glancing down, you carefully begin to clean the injury, and for once, you tend to his wounds instead of the other way around.

Silence settles between you. Quiet. 

This close, you feel the heat radiating from the blood that seeps loose, pooling in the deep grooves where a blade must have pierced through, twisted, and then torn its way out. With each pass, the rag darkens, fresh layers of wet crimson giving way to raw tissue beneath. Slowly, Sukuna’s body relaxes. The rise and fall of his bare chest deepens, the jagged edges of the gash stretching with every breath.

Your attention drifts lower, over the ridges of his muscles, slipping toward the open maw of his stomach, but something is missing. The tongue, usually lolling or twitching, is absent.

“Your stomach mouth… thing,” you murmur, eyes darting to his face. “The tongue. It’s gone.”

Sukuna glances down, unbothered.

“What of it?” he grumbles, shifting his enormous legs on either side of you. “It will heal.”

Your hands slow. Again, that stubborn silence creeps into the space, just the damp fabric, the open door, the night.

“What really happened?” you ask, voice tentative as you drag the cloth across his pectorals. “After I left.”

Sukuna watches you through a slitted gaze, his lower eyes following your hand while the upper pair remain locked on your face.

“Nothing.”

Nothing.

“It’s not nothing if you look like this,” you say bitterly, gesturing to the rawness of his wounds, the sheer amount of it. “I can hardly sense your energy.”

The King of Curses’ body twitches once before he tosses back his head, and a deep laugh reverberates from his chest.

“To someone like me, it’s nothing. But to others—” His head lowers, and in an instant, every trace of emotion locks down tight, leaving almost nothing behind. “—to others who are weak, I suppose it does look like something.”

Others, meaning me.

Jaw tightening, you don’t respond. Instead, you pat the area dry, set the rag aside and retrieve the other longer piece of cloth.

“Remove your kimono and come forward,” you instruct, tapping a hand on the edge of his knee.

He doesn’t move.

You press a knuckle into him.

“You’re going to wrap it?” he scoffs, dragging his leg away from your prodding touch.

You glare at him in silence, perfectly fine with letting him bleed all over the place until, after a drawn-out breath, he finally shifts. With a tug, he shrugs off his charcoal-grey kimono, letting it slip from his shoulders and fall into a mess on the floor. Then, peeling himself from the chair’s back just enough, he allows you to reach around him.

Bracing yourself between his outstretched thighs, you step closer and work the cloth beneath his second pair of arms.

The soft, dry drag of linen unspooling is the only sound between you, and with careful fingers, you dip your head around his upper right shoulder. 

Swift, glancing heat tickles against your temple—his breath. There’s blood in it. The iron scent is thick, but it doesn’t mask the rest. Raw meat, torn sinew, the faint, sweet tang of torn skin, still warm.

And you wonder who he ate after you left the village.

Disturbingly, the thought brings a sense of satisfaction after what was done to the people there.  

And you…

“You’ve been crying.”

Sukuna’s low voice rumbles right beside your cheek. Your eyes jump to him. His mask comes into view, his scarlet gaze flaring like four burning coals.

"What?" You look away, concentrating on wrapping the cloth over his massive frame. With a firm tug, it comes back around to the front. One pass done, just a few more, and for whatever it’s worth, you can at least say you tried to bridge this terrible divide.

"Your eyes." In your periphery, Sukuna nudges his chin toward you. "They're red. You've been crying."

The remark sinks in, leaving you strangely heartsick and irritated that he noticed, even in this light.  

"That makes three times now that you've seen the remnants of it. Does that make me weak too?" you bite out. A misstep.

"Four," Sukuna replies smoothly.  

Your brow furrows.

"Excuse me?"

Your hands push around his torso, fingers dancing gently into the cloth, making the second pass. From the corner of your eye, you see him watching you. 

"Four times," he repeats, then falls quiet, leaving you wondering and waiting.

"The first was after you killed your mother."  

Beneath his thick limbs, your hands still. You blink down at the curves and lines of his torso, at the way his body—never meant for this world—barely fits into the chair, spilling over its edges, at the way the space around him seems to shrink.

It takes three heartbeats for the words to land.  

"You—" Your breath falters. You recoil, pulling back from the underside of his arm. You look at him, grip tightening around the cloth, and a quiet sound dies in your throat. The fabric crushes between your fingers until energy—your energy—seeps out, pooling into bruised knuckles.  

Everything that’s happened, the chaos, the urgency, the way events have hurtled you forward, has left no time to stop and think about that night.

About the fact that he was there. That he saw.

He saw the aftermath of the lowest point in your life. He saw you losing and taking something vital in the same breath.  

You remember when he made you tell him about your dream, when all along, he already knew what was haunting you. And now he sits here, reminding you.

Trapped in some state of suspended motion, your mouth keeps opening and opening as if widening it enough will force any words to come out.

But they don’t, and Sukuna speaks first.  

"There’s too much softness in you." He leans in, his face hovering above yours, his expression slipping toward something pitying as his eyes fall to your hands, tangled and frozen around the cloth.

"It makes you vulnerable."  

When his upper right hand moves forward, you flinch, instinctively pushing back—but his second pair grips your hips, holding you in place. His palm brushes over the rise of your breast, pressing lightly.

"This, right here," he states, tapping once. "This makes you weak."

Your eyes drop to his massive fingers, swallowing the space over your chest.

A soft heart.

"You're clever." Another tap. His hands lift from your hips. "But your heart drowns out your mind."

As he draws his arm back, fresh blood seeps through, staining the cloth wrapped around him.

One more tap, then he withdraws entirely.

"Bringing a group of villagers here"—he chuckles, and your eyes snap to his—"that was stupid."

You step forward again.

"They had nowhere to go," you say, voice steady. "Let them stay one night. That's all I ask."

Sukuna watches you for a moment.

Soft heart. 

"They’ll leave at dawn," he says flatly. "And you’ll be the one to tell them. Or"—he pauses—"they’ll make a nice addition to my dwindling storehouse. Flesh seems difficult to come by these days."  

His gaze settles on your face, studying your reaction, while his lower eyes drift, tracing the angle of your jaw.  

"You wanted to play the benevolent saviour. So finish the role properly."

"Fine." 

Gripping the cloth again, you yank it tighter, pressing down until blood beads against the weave.

"I will.” You see yourself as anything but benevolent.

“And maybe I should just smother it.” Another yank. “Every shred of softness. Is that the answer you want to hear, my Lord?"

He smacks his lips together in annoyance.

You pause. 

"Seeing you fight without your emotions choking you would be a sight worth seeing." Sukuna drags a thumb over his lower lip, lost in the way of studying you. "You’d be far stronger for it. Maybe even strong enough to be worth fighting me again."

Heat sears through you. The suggestion angers you. The idea of forgetting a fundamental part of yourself angers you.

And yet, a small part of you wonders if he’s right, to let your heart darken, become a monster.

Still.

"Well," you hum sarcastically, sidestepping the weight of his words, "That’s—" Yank. "Not—" Yank. "Happening."

A final pull. His body tenses.

Blowing out a breath, you tip your head, preparing for another pass, but his attention swings to your jaw again, this time, it lingers. A moment too long.

Without warning, he leans forward in the chair, upper right hand grabbing your chin harshly and bringing you to him.

"Who did this?" he growls, his features tightening.

You freeze, stop what you’re doing as he lifts it, forcing you to lean into him and the moonlight creeping into the room. Red eyes narrow, falling to the throbbing bruise planted there.

"Why?" you whisper, tonguing the spot where your teeth had cut into the muscle.

"Why?" His thumb gently traces the outline of the welt, and his other fingers smooth up, curling around the hinge of your jaw, holding you in place.

"Because.” Sukuna’s voice drops to something dangerously soft. The touch drifts upward to your temple, into your hairline, where there’s a slide of heat. And inside, you fight against the intimacy of his touch, the quiet way his fingers follow the contour of your skin.

"Seeing aches painting your body has always made me wonder if whoever hurt you is dead."

Always?

The word snags in your mind, rubbing raw. And you can’t help but ask yourself if he knows he’s giving himself away. Again.

"It was from today,” you say, meeting his half-lidded gaze. “Someone was faster than me. And yes, he’s dead. I killed him and enjoyed it… watching him rot."

A slow, dark grin spreads across his mouth.  

"Did you now?" he purrs as his frustrating charisma returns.  

"I did." Your fingers drag over the cloth in your hand, tracing its texture.  

His thumb glides along your jaw, slowly mapping over the bruise once more before he lets you go.  

"And how did it feel?" He stretches out like a lumbering predator, sinking back deeper into the chair.  

And you know what he's asking.  

"I've killed before,” you say. “But this was different… I enjoyed watching him underestimate me. Only for him to die moments later under my touch."

Sukuna’s smirk is chilling. Amused. All canines.

"It seems that softness of yours has teeth after all." Shifting, he leans in, the blood from his chest wound seeping through the bandages. "Becoming more a carnivorous flower, perhaps."

The scarlet spills sluggishly, darkening the fabric in uneven patches before trickling lower, slipping past the final layers of bandages and trailing toward his hip bones, where his hakama sits low against his skin, the dark fabric soaking up the rest.

You only watch.

So does he.

Easing forward onto your knees, you pick up the wet cloth again, wipe it away, and resume the bandaging. But your mind drifts, turning over the pieces of today—how the fuck everything went so wrong. How you’d been accused of instigating a fucking coup. How your sister has taken her place as the Kasai clan’s head. How—  

"When will you start telling me the truth?" You tighten the third wrap, pressing into him to secure the final one.

“When you’re ready.” He leans forward, allowing you to slip under his arms.

“When I’m ready,” you echo into his ear as your faces pass side by side. “or when you’re ready?”

His eyes dart to yours. You pull back. He doesn’t answer, and a breath huffs out of you.

With his torso finally wrapped, you drag the cloth around and come to his front, smoothing your hands over the bandages stretched across his massive chest. Feeling him like this, he tenses.

There’s a pause.

You eye him, trying to decide how to say this.

“I want to speak with my sister.”

“No,” he snaps.

Your teeth click together.

“Why?” you hiss, gripping the end of the cloth. “Stop making this difficult, and just tell me.”

Despite the sharpness in your voice, your hands remain careful, tucking the fabric securely into place. 

“Please,” you add.

Begging. Pathetic.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you’re not ready,” Sukuna growls, his hands moving, engulfing your wrists, pulling them away from him. “So no, I won’t just tell you.” His voice tilts mockingly, tossing your own words back at you before he slumps into the chair, ending the conversation.

Mouth twitching, you yank your wrists free from his grip and settle back on your knees.

And still, the question knocks around inside your mind—

“Why are you really doing this?” you ask, searching his face. He once called it purpose. Everything had one. But slowly, you learned the difference. And now, you’re not waiting for an answer.

“Today, when I was restrained and about to be branded, I felt it.”  

You lean forward again, lifting off your heels and closing the small space where you sit between his outstretched legs.  

“The rage pouring off you. The anger. Is this some kind of atonement?”  

At this, the muscles in his jaw clench and pulse.  

You keep going.  

“When will you finally be done clinging to your pride and ready to admit it?” Coming forward, you mimic him—the way he spoke about your weaknesses. Your heart. “Because I’ve seen the way you war with yourself,” you continue quietly, your finger hovering over the bandaged cloth, which won’t last. He’ll heal, like always. No wounds. No scabs. No scars.  

“Since the day I arrived, it hasn’t stopped.”  

Your voice barely rises as your finger slowly descends toward his heart, pressing lightly against the fabric’s soft weave.  

“Especially after everything, after drowning yourself in me just to understand, now you feel something.”  

There it is.  

The magic of liminality. The sum of all the shitty experiences that made you brave again in a single day. Or impulsive. Spoken in the heat of the moment, when silence should have taken hold, and your stubborn mouth refuses to stop.  

“And you hate that it’s me.”

He doesn’t move. He simply watches you as if, once again, you’ve become a creature he can’t quite comprehend. And perhaps you are only this brave because you know he won't cut you into a thousand tiny pieces.

“You hate that it’s the daughter of someone you despise. The one who did something to you that no one else but you can understand.”

Don’t do it.

Sukuna’s eyes narrow.

Don’t say it.

“The one who makes you feel when all the others, their warmth, their flesh, their power, fail so miserably to compare.”

What the hell are you doing?  

“That’s why you keep hurting me. Because you enjoy it. And because it’s easier than admitting what I am to you.”

Sukuna’s brow splits.

Inside your chest, your pulse screams.

“And for whatever reason, you refuse to let me go. Even when you want to so badly.”

Stop. Talking.

Under the pad of your finger, his heart throbs, a rushing beat, the only sign of movement in him.

“So, say it.”

Your throat tightens.

“Just, once…”

Your eyes find each other.

“Tell me.”   

This is it. This is how you finally die, from tearing open a wound in front of him and demanding that he look.

Gods, you feel sick.  

Three unkind seconds pass, and he doesn’t answer.  

Outside the open door, the wind rattles through the wilting garden while the shrine’s old bones settle around you with a low creak, and still, you wait.

Down at your outstretched finger, the King of Curses takes a pitying glance, like he’s deciding how best to flick his wrist and slice it off.

“Tell you…” he finally mutters under his breath, four eyes dragging to your face as his upper right hand engulfs your wrist and yanks it away from his chest.  

“You think this is about pride?” Suddenly, he sits up, towering over you, and your heart slams behind your ribs. “You think I need to atone for anything?” Loud, cruel laughter rips from his chest. “It’s almost amusing how you keep trying to shape me into something I’ve never been. While you stumble around, blind, desperate for any reason, someone might love you, because deep down—” His grip tightens just enough to make your wrist ache, “you hate yourself.”

The barb strikes deep, lodging in right next to the hurt.

Was that true? Do you hate yourself? Or is this just another way for him to deflect from the horrible truth standing right in front of him, staring him down?

“And I don’t care,” he spits, flashing his teeth. “Not in the way you wish I did. If anything, I’ll admit you are an annoying scratch that won't heal.”

A scratch? The woman the King of Curses has seemed to have been obsessed with for years—a scratch.

“I don’t need you to care or atone in the way you think I want.” You hiss, freeing your hand and snatching the damp cloth from the floor. “I want you to stop pretending because it’s starting to get tiresome.”

You toss the bloody fabric into his lap. He frowns at it.

“Eventually, as you said, I’ll leave and live as something else entirely. And that will be as far from here and from you as possible.”

Sukuna’s slitted eyebrow pulls inward.

Before he can react, you grab the water basin and rise smoothly to your feet. Still, you hesitate, waiting to see if he’ll admit something. Anything.

He doesn’t.

Deep down, you already know. You nearly scoff, but what’s the point of dragging it out of a creature like him?

“Goodnight, my Lord,” you say sweetly, gracing him with an exaggerated bow. Emotions be damned. “I hope you have a wonderful—” Your eyes shoot to the empty, barren raised futon, and his follow yours. “Sleep.”  

Pressing your teeth into the inside of your cheek, you restrain yourself, resisting the temptation to say something truly petty as you straighten, stepping carefully around the smears of blood on the floor and walking away.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he grumbles behind you, irritation picking through every word. “A fool for even saying something so stupid, wi—”

His words break off.

You still, half-turning, one eyebrow lifting. 

There are only two things he could have called you—wife or winter flower—but he stops himself. Pausing in the doorway, you listen, wondering if he’ll slip and call you either just hours after the boundaries were set.

“Leave,” Sukuna mutters, sliding a hand through his hair as he stands out of the chair. Moving to the garden door, he shuts it, casting the room into darkness once more.

“Get that rest you so desperately lamented about.”

With his upper hands, he reaches behind his back, dragging them through the bandages, unravelling your work. The strips peel away, drifting to the floor, revealing freshly healed skin, streaked and ruddy.

As if nothing had been there at all.

“Tomorrow, we learn what’s under all that skin and blood of yours,” he says lowly over one inked shoulder, his eyes trying to hold yours.

But you’re already walking away, the words he couldn’t bring himself to say left unsaid.

[biblical-chronicles]

Hotel room

_____________________________________

where the band books you and Liam one hotel room.

(the one and only; oh no, there's only one bed)

_____________________________________

Since you were kids, you and Liam had been attached at the hip, causing trouble, winding people up, always finding yourselves in the middle of something you probably shouldn’t be involved in. There wasn’t much you hadn’t done together—sneaking into pubs before you were legal, getting bollocked by teachers for skiving off, tearing through the streets on bikes that you were definitely not the owners of. It had been you and him from the start.

Your mates never let up with teasing the two of you. 'Just get on with it and shag already', they’d say, over and over, until it became a joke that outlived the humor.

But you and Liam never truly entertained it. Never pulled through with whatever everyone else seemed so convinced about. You just kept things the way they were, the way they’d always been. And sitting across from him now, in the glow of the pub, watching him wave a half-empty pint around as he went on one of his long-winded rants, you weren’t thinking about much else beyond how fucking knackered you were.

Liam narrowed his eyes at you, mid-sentence. “Y’not even listenin’, are ya?”

You blinked, dragging yourself back into the present. “What?”

A scoff. “Knew it.” He leaned in, elbows on the table, all sharp-eyed and smug like he’d just caught you out on some massive crime. “Go on then. What’s goin’ on up there?”

You shrugged, rubbing at your eyes. “Just dead knackered.”

Liam hummed, taking another swig of his drink before nodding. “Aye. Long fuckin’ day.”

It always was. You worked tech for the tour, which meant setting up and tearing down all the gear, making sure the sound was right, handling the kind of shit no one in the crowd even thought about. You didn’t mind it, though. It kept you in the thick of things, gave you front-row seats to all the chaos without actually being the one onstage.

Liam stretched, groaning as he pushed his chair back. “Right. Reckon we should head back before the lot of ‘em piss in the hotel lobby or summat.”

You snorted but nodded, both of you draining the last of your pints before making your way out. The rest of the band had staggered back a while ago, all varying degrees of drunk. You and Liam had stayed behind, taking your time, not quite ready to deal with their drunken shite just yet. But when you finally stepped into the hotel, exhausted and ready to pass out, something immediately felt off.

The receptionist barely looked up before sliding a single key across the desk with a polite but knowing smile. “One room for you both.”

You stopped. Stared at her. Blinked. “What?”

“One room,” she repeated, ever-so-professional, as if she wasn’t in on whatever the fuck this was. “Your bandmates arranged it.”

Liam was already shaking his head, scoffing under his breath. “For fuck’s sake.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. The lads, absolutely steaming and clearly bored out of their skulls, had decided to fuck about with the room assignments for a laugh. You could practically hear the lot of them now, probably all crowded together upstairs, waiting to see if their little stunt had actually worked.

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face.

You considered arguing, really considered it, but at the end of the day, you were too exhausted to fight with the receptionist about a bed arrangement. You weren’t a diva, and you weren’t about to throw a fit over sharing a room with Liam of all people.

Without another word, you snatched up the key, muttering a string of curses under your breath, and walked toward the lifts. Liam fell into step beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets, his smirk widening like this was the funniest shit in the world.

You swallowed hard as Liam pressed the button for your floor, the air suddenly heavier than it had been a moment ago.

When the doors finally slid open, you wasted no time stepping out, Liam following behind with an easy, lazy stride.

You jammed the key into the lock, twisted, and pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit, one soft bedside lamp casting a glow over the space. Looked decent enough—clean, a bit posh, nothing to complain about. But there was one glaring problem, a single bed.

“Ah, for fuck’s sake,” Liam groaned, voice thick with exhaustion.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Of course.”

For a second, you debated going downstairs, demanding another room, maybe even storming into one of their rooms and throwing a little fit. But the weight of the day was pressing heavy on your limbs, and honestly? You couldn’t be arsed. Not tonight.

“Whatever,” you muttered, dropping your bag by the chair. “I’m too fuckin’ tired to deal with this.”

Liam was already toeing off his trainers, clearly in agreement. “Aye, we’ll live.”

The two of you settled in without much fuss, teeth brushed, shoes off, jackets discarded in a lazy pile. When you finally climbed into bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight, you let out a long, relieved breath. The sheets were cool, soft. If you ignored the fact that Liam was lying right there beside you, it was almost peaceful.

Almost.

Because after a moment, you glanced over at him.

The dim glow of the lamp softened his face, made him look almost delicate. Usually, he was all wild energy, a constant storm of motion and attitude. But now, like this, relaxed and quiet, you noticed things you hadn’t properly taken in before. The way his lashes fanned out against his cheek, the sharp cut of his jaw, the shape of his mouth—soft, a little pouty, lips slightly parted as he exhaled.

You weren’t even thinking when you shifted closer, drawn in like a moth to a flame. It was almost instinctual, like you were inspecting him up close, like he was some masterpiece in a gallery and you needed a better look.

Liam cracked an eye open, catching you mid-stare. His mouth twitched, amused.

“Oh, someone wants a snuggle, do they?”

You scoffed, shoving at his shoulder. “Piss off.”

He laughed, but before you could react, he launched himself at you, rolling half on top of you, pinning you beneath his weight.

“Liam—fuckin’ hell—get off!” You squirmed, trying to push him off, but he was stronger, his arms locking around you like a vice.

“Nah, y’looked like you needed a cuddle.” he teased, grinning down at you.

“You’re a menace.” you gritted out, still attempting to wiggle free.

He just chuckled, resting his chin on the top of your head for a moment before, finally, he rolled away, stretching out on his side of the bed again.

You exhaled, willing your heart to slow back to a normal rhythm. But the worst part? You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was right. Because for that brief moment, wrapped up in him, it had felt nice. Warm. Safe. And now that it was gone, there was a gnawing sense of loss creeping in, something you weren’t quite sure what to do with.

You lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore it. But your body had other ideas.

Slowly, you shifted just a little closer. Not enough to be obvious, but just enough that your knee brushed against his under the covers.

Liam didn’t say anything.

So you inched a little more.

Your arm grazed his.

Still nothing.

You swallowed, pulse picking up, and finally let your leg rest against his, just lightly. The warmth of him seeped through the fabric of your clothes, and you swore you could feel his breathing change, just the slightest hitch.

For a moment, neither of you moved, as if acknowledging it would break the fragile tension hanging between you. Your heart was hammering, every second stretching longer than it should.

Then, Liam shifted. Just a little. Just enough that his leg pressed more firmly against yours.

You held your breath.

“You gettin’ comfy there, or what?” His voice was low, thick with amusement, but there was something else underneath it too.

You hesitated, debating playing dumb, but before you could, he turned his head, looking at you properly now.

“Not just after a snuggle, huh?” His lips twitched. “You’re after the full snuggle and snog package, aren’t ya?”

Heat rushed to your face, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking away. “I hate you.”

He grinned. “No you don't, love.”

Before you could come up with some kind of comeback, he shifted again, rolling onto his side to face you fully. His gaze flickered over your face. And then his fingers traced a lazy path up your arm, barely a touch, just enough to send shivers along your skin.

Your breath hitched.

He smirked. “Look at ya. Gaspin’.”

You scowled, smacking his chest. “Fuck off, Liam.”

But he only laughed, and before you could retreat, his hand caught yours, holding it in place against him.

Liam’s thumb brushed over your knuckles.

“Go on then,” he murmured.

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

His smirk deepened, lazy and confident, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. “Kiss me, ya div. Thought that was what you were after.”

Your breath caught, fingers curling slightly where they rested against him. Your mind screamed at you to think, to figure out if this was a mistake, if you should be doing this, but all that noise faded when his thumb traced slow circles against your wrist, grounding, steady.

You didn’t think.

You just moved.

Your hand slid up, fingers curling around the back of his neck as you leaned in. And then, before you could talk yourself out of it you kissed him.

His lips were warm, soft, and for half a second, he didn’t move. Just let you press against him, let you be the one to make the first move. But then his fingers curled into your waist, tugging you closer, and his mouth pressed firmly against yours, deepening the kiss with a slow, unhurried confidence.

You exhaled against him, and he hummed, low and pleased, his other hand sliding up your back.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he muttered between kisses. “Knew you fancied me.”

You pulled back just enough to glare at him, lips still tingling. “You’re unbearable.”

He grinned, eyes dark with amusement, fingers tightening at your waist. “Yeah, but if it makes you feel better I fancied you too.”

_____________________________________

I love this trope it's such a fanfic classic, hope ya liked it xx

[bitterseadrop-a]

alcohol is just one of milou's biggest, if not THE coping mechanism for practically everything. she's well aware that it's not healthy but could give zero shits about it. she doesn't grow violent nor directly impacts other people around her — she really just wants to grow numb and for other people to mind their own business.

it doesn't concern them, so what gives them the right to dictate what she should and shouldn't do? usually, milou really does not care what others think about her, but this is different.

it takes a great amount of trust between her and another person to even hear them out and not grow hostile or outright lash out at them (both verbal and physical) if they try to intervene. weirdly enough though, her stoic demeanour persists if a complete stranger decides to comment on her habits. it's only when there's at least some rapport between her and the person in question that she grows increasingly hostile.

the sheer audacity that you think you're entitled to broach the topic of something that makes her feel so vulnerable — something that she thinks has become such an integral part of her by now.

[pedrospatch]

run

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

*moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only. no mention of reader’s race or skin tone.

summary: When you’re given the chance to run from your captor, you don’t take it.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. MENTIONS PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). reader is described washing her hair (the exact length is not specified) and she wears a dress. she is also shorter than Joel. violence, kidnapping, reader has major stockholm syndrome, Joel is fairly soft for her but HE IS STILL NOT A GOOD MAN, brief mention of Tess and Joel being involved with each other, Tess seems like the villain but she might actually be the only one of these three who is not totally fucked up in the head. SMUT. daddy kink. size difference (no description of reader’s body type, Joel is just a big guy with a big dick, enjoy it). oral sex (female receiving), super risky unprotected p in v sex (mention of reader ovulating, Joel pulls out, don’t be be like these two, practice safe sex), creampie (yeah he doesn’t give a fuck the second time around). many, many pet names (baby, baby girl, honey, angel, sweetheart, little girl). um i think that’s it. oh, and they fuck in the dirt.

PLEASE HEED ALL WARNINGS.

word count: 8.6k

a/n: one thing about me is i WILL soften up EVERY version of Joel Miller to my little heart’s content. HUGE HUGE thank you to @endlessthxxghts and @joelsdagger for lending me their eyes and beta-ing this fic for me last night. <33 i love and appreciate you guys SO MUCH. i loved seeing you both in the doc at the same exact time lmao. this can be read as a standalone, but it is considered part of the captive universe.

Everyone in the group has a job. Except for you.

Or at least, that’s what you hear them say.

That bitch doesn’t do shit.

She never has to lift a fucking finger.

She should work for her meal—just like the rest of us.

Bitterness laces their tones when they talk about you.

Insults grow a little bolder when he’s not around.

Useless.

Freeloader.

Leech.

You might not be out there with a rifle in hand hunting game or invading camps and spilling blood for supplies—but you do in fact have a job, and that job is to make Joel Miller happy. It is your responsibility, your duty, to please him, and to keep him satisfied. Because keeping him satisfied keeps him in a good mood, and one thing you’ve come to learn about your captor is, where there is a good mood, often there is mercy.

Hell, you’re doing them a favor by keeping their violent, fearsome leader in a good mood. Because you’ve seen what he does to them when he’s not. He can be just as brutal towards his own people as he is to strangers.

It doesn’t make a difference, though. They still see you as nothing more than his coddled little whore.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

He groans, his thick, callused fingers digging harshly into the softness of your flesh as he holds you firmly in place underneath him. “Oh fuck, baby girl,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he uses his own weight against you, pressing you down into the old mattress until you feel every uncomfortable lump, each creaking spring.

While he isn’t fucking you as roughly as he has on other occasions, he’s hardly being gentle. It’s hard, fast.

Loud.

Joel couldn’t care less about the rest of the group, the men and women on the other side of the wall, forced to listen to the sounds coming from the single bedroom of the cabin he decided they would hunker down in for the remainder of the summer season. Strings of curses and brutish grunts that came rumbling from deep within his chest, pleading gasps and whimpers that fell from your swollen, bitten lips. If anything, knowing they were listening only spurred him on—it didn’t hurt to remind them, especially the men with wandering eyes, that you were his special girl.

His good girl.

You certainly did your job, and you did it so, so well.

“Christ, sweetheart. M’so fuckin’ close—” Joel picks up speed, his hips snapping even harder, faster, the front of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours. Each thrust causes the bed’s rusted, iron headboard to slam violently against the wood panel wall.

You clutch fistfuls of the single, stale, yellowing sheet beneath you, each stroke he delivers knocking the wind out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe. He is so heavy on top of you, this big, broad, bulk of a man who makes you feel swallowed, smothered, and small. Joel takes up so much room inside of you, and it’s a wonder how you could possibly have any space left to spare.

It’s a fullness you can’t seem to get enough of.

It’s a craving, a need.

Worst of all, it’s slowly becoming a want.

“Daddy,” you choke out, fisting the sheet tighter, your skin stretching taut over your knuckles. Can the others also hear the squelch of your drenched cunt around his cock as it begs him for more?

“Fuck. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby,” Joel croons his praise. His hands abandon your hips and he hunches over you, his thrusts momentarily ceasing. He crushes his chest against your sweaty, quivering back and leans forward even further, bracing his large hands on either side of you. Then, his lips move to the shell of your ear and he speaks, his breath blazing hot on your skin. “Y’take me so well, honey. Y’take Daddy’s cock so fuckin’ well. This pretty little pussy was fuckin’ made for me. She was made jus’ for me—ain’t that right, angel?”

He’s right.

Oh, how you fucking hated that he was right.

It was made for him. Your cunt. Your body. You.

Every part of you was made for him, and only for him.

All you can do is nod dumbly in agreement.

“Say it,” Joel whispers his firm command. “Wanna hear you say it. Be a good girl and use your words. Say it, say this pussy is made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan obediently, prompting him to grin against your ear. “My pussy is made for you, just—just for you. No one—no one else. Only you.” Could this really be the same voice that would break, grow hoarse from screaming for him to stop? The same voice that would beg and plead for him to set you free?

Jutting his hips forward, Joel buries himself to the hilt, eliciting a noise from you, something caught between a pained whimper and a contented sigh. His balls, heavy and full for you, rest on your clit, which is still sensitive to the touch after he’d spent a majority of the morning with his head buried in between your legs. Desiring yet another release, you try wriggling around beneath him in a silent plea for more. More, more, more.

Please, Daddy. More.

Joel’s grin widens. He places one of his hands on your soft lower belly, fingers dragging down the slope of it until he finds the slick swell of your seam between your legs where his girth splits you open. “Ready, baby?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer him, but the sound of your own groan cuts you off when his fingers firmly circle around your throbbing, swollen bud. “Oh,” you breathe, instantly sinking right into his touch. Your eyes screw shut tightly in pleasure, and you throw your head back onto his shoulder. The scruff of his beard is rough on your cheek, and it burns, the same way it had burned the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

His hips find their rhythm as you rub against his hand—you’re almost there. He knows this, you can tell by the chuckle that thunders in his chest and against your back. But you’re too busy chasing your pleasure to be embarrassed.

He’s made you a needy, greedy girl.

“Daddy,” you mewl, trying your hardest to move under him, to work your cunt up and down on his cock. “I’m gonna come—” You gasp, back arching as Joel strokes in and out, his fingers rubbing your clit with urgency.

Joel plants a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek. “Give it to me, baby,” he grunts. “C’mon. Lemme feel her squeeze me.”

Feeling how close he is too, you try to hold on for just a little bit longer, at least long enough to finish with him, but Joel’s relentless, and you’re forced off of the ledge you’re both standing on first.

Crying out, your walls spasm around him, asking to be filled until he’s made a complete mess out of you, until white leaks, and it slowly dribbles down the insides of your trembling thighs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel rasps. He lifts himself off you and he pulls out, taking his throbbing cock in his hand. His chest heaves as he fists himself, the wet sound of your slick in his palm filling the room. “Down,” he grits, and you obey him, lowering down yourself on the mattress until you’re lying almost completely flat before him. He gives himself one final stroke just as you look over your shoulder at him, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes the last push he needs. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” Joel spills his load, shooting thick ropes of warm cum along the soft curve of your spine.

You rest your cheek on your folded arms, biting back a small sigh.

He’s left behind an ache—you feel painfully empty.

But it was Tess, who had been given the task of helping you track your menstrual cycle, that had given him the warning earlier that morning. “She’s ovulating. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Joel. Last thing we need is for her to—”

“Relax,” he’d gruffed in response. “I fuckin’ know.”

Spent, Joel hunches over you once more and he lightly kisses the top of your head before burying his nose into your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs. Affection that once was unwelcome and unwanted, that once made you feel sick to your fucking stomach, now makes you feel something else entirely. You’re not quite sure what it is, only that it’s warm. Comforting. “Y’did so well for me, sweetheart. Always do.”

Your lips curl into a faint, tired smile he doesn’t see.

A while later, you find yourself perched on the bed with the sheet wrapped around you, quietly watching as he gets dressed. “Daddy?” you say tentatively as he drops into a nearby chair to pull on his boots.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Do you—do you think we can go to the creek today?”

Joel finishes lacing his boots and looks up at you.

“I’d really like to wash up,” you admit, softly. That, and you would like to see the light of day. He’d boarded up the windows with slabs of wood—sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get some decent light seeping through the teeny gaps.

“Not today, honey. I’ve got some things to take care of. Supplies are low, we gotta do a run. Don’t have the time to take you.” He stands and picks up his rifle, slinging the strap of it over his shoulder. Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel’s eyes soften. He walks over and gingerly cups the side of your face in his palm. His thumb strokes your cheek. “Promise I’ll take you to the creek tomorrow, sweetheart. First thing. Alright?”

Nodding, your eyes fall to your hands in your lap.

“Okay.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then leaves the room.

He makes sure to lock the door from the outside, and you can’t help but wonder if he knows locking you in is no longer necessary.

“I can take her.”

Joel’s dark eyes remain focused on the state map laid out on the table in front of him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Tess?” He sees her in his periphery, but is too busy figuring out the group’s best route to look her way.

“I heard her asking you to take her to the creek so she can bathe,” she tells him. “I can take her.”

Finally, his head snaps up and he turns to her. “What?”

Tess leans her hip against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and Tommy can take the group, go and take care of what you have to take care of. I’ll stay behind and take her down to the creek,” she suggests casually, as if she’s not asking him to trust her with his most prized possession—the only damn thing on what was left of this fucking earth Joel Miller actually gives a shit about. “Once she’s washed up, I’ll bring her back to the cabin and put her back into the room. Easy.”

Joel stares at her, bewildered. “What makes you think I’d fuckin’ allow somethin’ like that?”

“Oh, come on.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Anytime I bitch about having to do something for that girl, you’re on my fucking case about it, and now that I’m offering to do something for her, you don’t wanna let me?”

He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “You’re talkin’ about takin’ her outside, Tess. Without me.”

“The creek’s just a mile away,” Tess reminds him. “I’m pretty sure I can handle getting her there and back with no trouble, Joel.” When he says nothing, she cocks her head to the side and scoffs. “What? You don’t trust me enough to take her under my wing for a couple hours?”

Joel’s lips pull into a tight line. 

Of course he does. Tess was his right hand woman, his second in command.

He trusted her more than his own fucking brother. She had never given him any reason not to, had never given him a reason to doubt her loyalty to him. No, his lack of trust has nothing to do with Tess—but everything to do with you. He doesn’t trust you. He will never trust you.

“What if she tries to—?” He can’t even say it.

“Tries to what?” She pauses. “Run?”

His throat goes dry and he gives her a subtle nod.

Joel Miller was a bad man who did bad things, but you were his good. You’ve brought back some meaning into this wretched life of his, gave him something that felt a lot like a sense of purpose. You were something for him to take care of, to keep safe and protect.

Tess raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d even give her the chance? Besides, the girl’s not that stupid, Joel. She knows better than to try anything. She knows she wouldn’t get very fucking far.”

“Tess—”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for her. Besides, I think it might do her some good to be in the company of someone else for once—the company of a woman.”

Joel peers at her, taking a minute to think it over in his mind before asking, “You’ll have her back in the room before I get back to the cabin?”

“Long before then,” she swears. “All in one piece.”

He hesitates. He’s still not sure.

It’s then that he remembers that disappointed look on your sweet, pretty little face. “Alright,” he relents with a deep sigh. “I trust you, Tess.”

It always feels a bit strange to be outside.

But being outside without Joel?

It feels even stranger.

When he’d walked back into the room and told you Tess was willing to take you to the creek, the news had taken you by complete surprise. When he said he was willing to let her take you, that you almost couldn’t believe. It hadn’t even sunk in until the three of you stood outside the cabin and he was kissing your forehead sweetly in a temporary goodbye before turning to Tess.

“Never take your eyes off her,” he’d instructed her.

“She’ll behave.” She had smiled at you as she pulled her pistol from the waistband of her jeans, the gleam of the silver barrel catching your eye. “Isn’t that right?”

Swallowing dryly, you had answered with a strained, “Of course.”

She’s the last fucking person you wanted to cross. She was almost as terrifying as Joel, if not more.

“Tess? W-Where are we going?” you ask as you trudge along behind her, hoping you don’t sound as winded as you feel. Although you had no way to keep track of the time, it felt like you’d been trekking for at least an hour. Your feet are starting to hurt in your shoes—old, worn, yellow canvas sneakers that certainly weren’t made for hiking. “I don’t remember the creek being this far from the cabin.”

Tess snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

“It’s just—we’ve been walking for a really long time.”

She glances over her shoulder at you. “Here I thought you would be a little fucking grateful to be out getting some fresh air,” she chuckles, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the path ahead.

“I am,” you squeak, stumbling over a fallen branch.

Silence falls over the both of you.

“We’re not going to the creek,” Tess finally speaks after a minute. “I’m taking you somewhere else. Somewhere even better. Just trust me, kid. Now hurry up.”

It takes another hour before you reach your destination, and you hear it before you can even see it, a humming sound that turns into buzzing the closer you get. Then, you feel it, a vibration in the rocks beneath your feet. “Is that a—?” Stepping around her, your mouth falls open in absolute awe at the sight before you.

The waterfall is nestled right in between the trees and surges over the rocky mountain, throwing up bubbles of spray as it plunges into the lake at the bottom, and from there, it foams into a thick, white lather at the base. On the bank, where you stand, you spot different types of vegetation you couldn’t identify even if you tried—all you know is that it’s green, and it’s beautiful.

“This is incredible,” you gasp.

“Way better than some little creek, huh?” Tess tucks her pistol into the waistband of her jeans and shrugs off her pack. She digs around in the front pocket and pulls out something wrapped in a piece of crumpled brown tissue paper. She hands it to you. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Well, if you’d fucking open it, you would know,” Tess rolls her eyes. “It’s my last piece of soap. It’s all yours.”

Her kind generosity comes as a surprise—usually, Tess wanted nothing to do with you. But you don’t question it, and you certainly don’t turn the rare luxury down.

“Thanks,” you say, shooting her a grateful look.

Tess nods towards the body of water. “Alright, then. Go on and get to it.”

You take the piece of soap out the tissue. The scent of lavender is faint, but still very much there. Joel will like the smell of it on your skin tonight, you think.

As you start to pull the strap of your cotton blue dress down your shoulder, you feel her gaze fixed intently on you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Uh, aren’t you going to turn around?”

“For fuck’s sake,” she scoffs. “I’ve got what you’ve got. Now hurry up, we don’t have all fucking day.”

Nodding, you peel off your dress and underwear, your face on fire as the older woman’s eyes slowly drag over your naked body. Carefully, you step off the bank and wade into the water. It’s so clear that you can count the pebbles underneath your feet.

Leaning against a nearby tree, Tess calls out, “You have ten minutes! And stay out of the waterfall! Last thing I need is for you to fucking drown.”

As she lights a cigarette, you can’t help but stare at her. Her features, though worn down after the hell she had been through trying to survive the post outbreak world, are beautiful. Big, dark green eyes, a perfect nose, and full, pouty lips. There’s never been a doubt in your mind that she and Joel have been involved with one another, and lately, the mere thought of anything between them made you uncomfortable.

It’s an odd sensation deep in your gut—jealousy?

But what were you jealous of? Her having had him first?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Insecurities you have never in your life felt before seep into your bones.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s fucking rude to stare?” Tess quips, raising an eyebrow at you. She shoves her lighter into the back pocket of her jeans.

Nervously, you sink lower into the water, nibbling the inside of your cheek. “Tess? Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly fucking want to ask me?”

You hesitate.

“How—how long have you known each other?”

“Who?” Tess plucks the cigarette from between her lips and flicks the ashes. “Me and Joel?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. Six, seven years?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Long story that’s none of your fucking business.”

You ask your next question before you lose your nerve. “Have you two ever—?” Unsure of how to phrase it, you stop and clamp your mouth shut in instant regret.

“Have we ever what?” Tess studies your face, and she quickly realizes what you’re trying to ask her. “You’re seriously asking me if me and Joel have ever fucked?”

Biting your bottom lip, you glance down into the water at your feet. You honestly don’t expect her to answer, so when she does, you look back up at her in surprise.

“Yeah.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, then adds, “Few times.”

Something unpleasant claws at your insides. “You two were together? Like a couple?”

“Something like that,” Tess mutters, flicking her ashes once more.

“What happened?”

She looks at you, pausing before answering, “You.”

Oh.

Before you can utter another word, Tess snaps, “Quit asking so many goddamn fucking questions and finish up washing. You’ve got eight minutes left.”

Not wanting to push your luck further than you already have, you do as she tells you in complete silence.

You lather up the soap in your hands, washing your hair first, and then your face and body, using your hands to scrub yourself as best as you can. Between the calming scent of the soap, the soothing sound of the waterfall, and the warm afternoon sun, you find yourself relaxing. You try to clear your mind, live in this peaceful moment which you very well may never get again, but your mind begins to wander.

And it wanders straight to Joel.

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but picture him here, standing behind you in the lake. You can almost feel his hands on you, long, thick fingers lathered with lavender soap, sliding down your body. His lips at your neck, he cups your breasts in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples until your head lulls, falling back onto his shoulder. Joel drags his hands further down, over your stomach, going lower and lower towards the place where you need them the most. “Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your neck, dipping one of them between your legs until you are, quite literally, in the palm of his hand. “This where y’need me?”

Breathless, you respond, “It’s where I want you.”

Suddenly, your eyes snap open.

There is a wetness between your thighs, one that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing waist-deep in the middle of a lake. You shake those thoughts away and finish washing yourself.

“Time’s up,” Tess calls. She meets you on the bank with a dry rag. “Here.”

The rag doesn’t exactly cover much surface area, but you dry yourself off as best you can before tugging on your underwear and slipping on your dress. Just as you crouch down to slip your shoes on, she tosses her pack and it lands in front of you with a soft thud.

Confused, you glance up at her.

“There’s about a week’s worth of jerky in there. Longer, if you know how to ration,” Tess explains, calmly. “And a canteen for water. I also packed you a flashlight and a pocket knife. It’s not much, but—”

Frowning, you rise to your feet. “What are you talking about, Tess? What’s going on? Why are you giving me your pack?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance, kid.”

A feeling of dread pools in the pit of your stomach.

“A chance to what?”

“Run.”

Your heart stutters a beat. “Run?”

“He’ll come looking for you. You need to get as far away from here as possible. Run away, as far as you can, and don’t fucking look back.”

All you can do is stare at her in shocked silence.

“I can help you get a head start,” Tess offers, quietly. “I can show you which direction to go in and put you on a path leading to the closest state highway—”

“But what if I don’t want to run?”

Tess places her hands on her hips, and she exhales an incredulous laugh. “Jesus,” she breathes, shaking her head in pity. “He’s really got you fucking brainwashed, doesn’t he?”

You glare at her. “I am not brainwashed, Tess.”

“You’ve gotta be if you’re telling me you wanna go back to him.”

“Tess—”

She cuts you off. “He gave the order to raid your camp and kill your people,” she reminds you. “He fucking slit your father’s throat right in front of you, then took you as his prisoner. He made you his fucking sex slave.”

“He takes care of me! He feeds me, makes sure I have a bed to sleep in no matter where we are. He keeps me safe. He—he cares about me.” You will your voice not to tremble as you stand your ground. “No. I’m not running away, Tess. I want to go back.”

Tess sighs. “You’re really not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Take me back,” you all but demand, your hands curled into the least menacing little fists she had ever seen in her life at your sides. “Take me back to the cabin—take me back to him, Tess. I mean it.”

Amused, she huffs through her nose. “Or else what?”

“You can’t make me run away, Tess.” As you take a step towards her, she reaches behind her and swiftly whips out her pistol from the waistband of her jeans. You halt, freezing in fear when she aims the barrel of the gun at your chest.

“Actually, I can,” she says, her finger hovering over the trigger. “So here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna walk away now. And if you even think about following me, or trying to find your way back to the group, you will die.” She tosses you a tiny, wry smile. “Believe it or not, I’m doing you a real big favor, kid. Problem is, he’s got you so fucked in the head that you can’t see it.”

“Tess, please,” you plead. “Don’t do this to me!”

She begins to back away. “Remember when you’d say that to him? How you’d beg him not to do those things to you every night? Beg him to let you go?”

“Please, just take me back to him!”

You start to follow her.

“You take one more fucking step and I’ll shoot you,” she threatens, her eyes darkening. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tess keeps her pistol pointed at you until she slips into the trees and disappears, abandoning you in the middle of the forest.

He’s furious. Livid.

Joel paces back and forth on the porch.

“Where the fuck are they?”

The old, rotting wood that wraps all the way around the cabin creaks, and certain softer spots bend and buckle, threatening to give way beneath his heavy boots. Joel’s younger brother leans against the railing, which is just as fragile, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Christ, Joel. Can you fuckin’ relax?” Tommy grumbles, fishing around in his back pocket for his lighter. “You’re gonna bring the whole damn cabin down if ya don’t cut that shit out.” He sparks a flame and lights the filtered end of the cigarette. He takes a long drag, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “You’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’, brother.”

“S’almost sundown, and they’re still not fuckin’ back.” Joel shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have let Tess take her. Somethin’ happened, Tommy. I just know it.” He lifts his shirt and reaches for his pistol, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. “M’gonna head to the creek myself to find ‘em. Ain’t gonna sit around on my goddamn hands and wait for it to get fuckin’ dark.”

“She’s with Tess. M’sure the girl’s fine—” Tommy stops, his eyes widening slightly. “Well, hell.”

“What?”

Tommy jerks his chin over Joel’s shoulder before taking another slow, casual drag of his cigarette. He savors the last few seconds of peace before shit inevitably hits the fan and his brother unleashes his wrath on anything, or anyone, in his path.

Joel whips around and his stomach sinks, his blood ice in his veins when he sees Tess approaching the cabin. Alone.

Both his mind and body go numb. It’s a jarring shock to his nervous system, and it takes him a minute or two to fully process the fact that you’re not with her.

“Joel,” Tess says his name carefully as he descends the porch steps and walks towards her. “I need you to take a breath, alright?”

“Where—where is she?” His voice breaks, his weakness momentarily slipping through the cracks.

Not that Tess didn’t already know you were Joel Miller’s weakness, his soft white underbelly, the only vulnerable part of his hardened self that could be penetrated—you would have been his downfall. As much as she’d like to say she did what she did solely for your own good, she also did it for his, and for the sake of the group as a whole.

It needed to be done.

He stands in front of her, a ticking time bomb about to go off.

Prepared to face whatever consequences of the choice she had made, Tess tucks her gun away and sighs. “You need to take a breath—”

Joel snatches her arm, his fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. His emotions hit him all at once.

Fear, worry, anger. It’s the third that takes precedence, and before Tess can utter another word, Joel yanks her forward. She crashes against his chest so hard that it knocks the wind out of her. “Where the fuck is she?” He leans down, his nostrils flaring as he brings their faces the closest they have been in almost a year.

“Joel, take a fucking breath—”

“Where. Is. She.” His grip on her arm tightens with each word he bites out through his teeth. He’s vaguely aware the others have piled out of the cabin, gathering on the porch to watch the altercation.

“She ran,” Tess explains, calmly. She doesn’t falter, not even as his fingers sink deeper into her skin, promising her painful bruises which will take days to fade away. If he decided to let her live. “She ran away, Joel. I turned my back for one fucking second and she was gone. She even took my fucking pack. I tried going after her, but it was no use. She was too fast.”

Behind him, Tommy snorts. “She outran you?”

Her eyes momentarily flicker to him. “Her knees are a lot younger than mine,” she replies, flatly.

“Which direction did she go in?” Joel demands. When Tess doesn’t immediately respond, he shouts, “Which fucking direction!”

Tess manages to snatch her arm out of his grasp. She glowers at him, hissing, “What the hell does it matter which direction she went? You won’t fucking find her.”

His eyes meet hers, and he sees it. Feels it.

She’s lying to him.

“Tess.” Joel’s voice drops dangerously low. He studies her face, his brows creasing with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit, Joel. She fucking ran away.”

Without warning, Joel takes her by her throat. His other hand brings his pistol to her head, shoving the barrel of it against her temple. His nose touches hers. “Now, tell me why I have the feelin’ you’re not tellin’ me the whole truth?”

Tess lifts her chin. She searches his eyes, a sharp ache shooting through her. After everything, all the hell they had been through together—he would end her life, put a bullet in her because of you? Did she mean that little to him?

Or maybe she’d never meant anything to him at all?

She’s not sure which stings more.

“Because you’ve fucking deluded yourself into thinking that she willingly wants anything to do with you,” Tess finally answers. “That’s why.”

He ignores the burn of her scorching words.

“Where the fuck is she, Tess?”

“If she’s smart, she’s far away from here by now,” she hisses. “I did everyone a fucking favor, Joel. That girl is just another fucking mouth to feed. And what if you get her pregnant? That’ll be another one. Not to mention, a crying baby could draw unwanted attention and get us all killed. Ever thought about that? She’s not an asset to the group, she’s a fucking liability. Besides, I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re all fucking tired of hearing you ra—”

Joel digs the barrel harder into her temple, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Listen to me. You’ve got ten seconds to tell me where she is, y’understand me?”

“Or what? You’ll blow my brains out?” Foolishly, Tess chooses to call his bluff despite not knowing for certain whether or not he’ll actually pull the trigger. “Go ahead, then. Kill me, Joel.”

His finger twitches over the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. He can’t fucking pull it. Not on her. Not on Tess.

Still in his hands, she sags slightly in relief.

Swallowing harshly, Joel Miller lowers his gun and does something she’s never seen him do before. He begs.

“Tess, tell me where she is,” he whispers. His pleading is subtle, and only she can hear it. “Please—just fuckin’ tell me where my girl is.”

Tess stands her ground and says nothing.

Releasing her, Joel shoves her aside and with nothing but his gun in his hand, he sets off to find you.

“Ow, fuck!”

You gasp, quickly lifting your bare foot off the ground.

You’d stepped on something sharp—a stick, or maybe a rock?

In a desperate attempt to try and keep up with Tess’ tracks, you had stupidly left behind your shoes back at the waterfall. But the mere seconds you had spared by not stopping to put your shoes on hadn’t given you the advantage you thought it would. She had moved much too fast, and within minutes, you’d become helplessly, hopelessly lost. Every tree and every bush, they all look exactly the same, and for all you know, you’ve probably been going around in fucking circles for the past couple of hours in your search for her footprints in the dirt.

Sagging against the trunk of a nearby tree, you take a minute to try and catch your breath, to give your poor little feet a break from hiking over fallen branches and jagged stones.

Your head falls back, eyes gazing through the canopy of trees. Dusk has settled in, and nightfall is on its heels. It was foolish of you to leave behind your shoes, but even more so to leave behind the pack she had given you—in the pack were all the things meant to help you survive. Knife, flashlight, food.

Sure, you can survive a night out here in the wilderness without any of those things—but then what? Come dawn, what do you do? Where do you go? Do you just stumble around in the woods and hope for the best? Pray you’ll make it onto a highway with signs that will point you to a quarantine zone?

Hell, maybe you’re overestimating yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t survive long enough to worry about your next move. Howls in the distance remind you there’s wildlife out here, dangerous predators that come out after dark in search of their next meal. Or what about infected? It wasn’t unheard of for them to veer off the highway and lose themselves in the trees.

You recall your first few weeks in Joel Miller’s hands.

Escaping them was all you could ever think about, even though the chances of you surviving alone were slim to none, just like they are now. Never having been on your own, death would have been inevitable—but back then, in your darkest moments in captivity, you wished for it. You’d welcomed the idea of starving, freezing, or being torn apart limb from limb by an entire hoard of clickers. At least then, you’d die with your freedom.

Almost a year later, that wish has been granted.

You’re free.

You may very well die, but you would die free.

Closing your eyes, you think about Joel. His arms, that once held you down—held you still—as he did all those things to you without your consent, are arms your heart yearns to have wrapped around you, holding you close.

“Jesus,” you grit, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Maybe Tess had been right. Maybe he really does have you fucked in the head.

Joel was a monster. He had taken everything from you, including your innocence. He’d defiled you in ways you hadn’t known were possible. He was a terrible, terrible man.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you fed.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you warm.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you safe.

Another tear slides down the side of your face. What is fucking wrong with you?

You don’t know. But what you do know is, the thought of never seeing Joel again is somehow more terrifying to you than the thought of dying even the most brutal of deaths.

A loud rustling sound brings your train of thought to an immediate, sudden halt, and your eyes wrench open.

It’s darker now, but you manage to catch a movement in the shrubs, only mere feet in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, it rattles you to your very core, and even though every nerve in your body is urging you to move, you freeze, your back flush against the tree trunk. Your fingernails dig painfully into the bark as you watch the shrubs part down the middle, and a tall, hulking figure emerges with a heavy grunt.

At first, you think it’s just a figment of your imagination showing you what you wanted to see—a hallucination. Blinking furiously, you lightly shake your head, and then take another look at him. Your breath hitches when you realize it’s Joel.

He stares at you in the same manner, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or if his mind is playing a cruel, cruel trick on him. Feet cemented to the forest floor, he watches you take a small, tentative step towards him.

Once adamant that you’d never look him in the eye, you find your gaze locking directly with his as you carefully take another step closer. Then another, and another.

“Joel?” It’s the first time you’ve ever uttered his name.

He seems as taken aback hearing it as you are saying it.

“Joel.” It rolls off your tongue smoother, and with more ease the second time around.

It sparks a flame somewhere deep, deep inside of him, a fire that burns differently than those ignited by carnal desires.

No, this is something else entirely, and you feel it too.

“Baby?” he whispers hoarsely. “S’that really you?”

“Joel!” you cry, hurling yourself into his arms.

Joel’s gun falls from his hand and he curls them around you. Burying his nose into your hair, he inhales deeply. The scent of you, the feel of you—you’re fucking real.

Shuddering with sobs of relief, your arms wrap around his waist, and you cling to him as if you’re clinging onto dear, precious life itself.

“Hush now, s’alright,” Joel soothes, cradling the back of your head in one hand, while the rubs soft, calming circles into your back. “I’ve got you, honey. M’here.”

“I swear I didn’t want to run away,” you explain through your tears. “I begged her to take me back to you, Joel, I really did! But she left me out here—she said she would shoot me if I tried following her back. Please, you have to believe me, you just have to believe me!”

He squeezes you harder against his chest. “I do, baby. I do believe you,” he assures you. Pulling away, he takes a step backward and takes your face between his palms, peering at you in concern. “Y’hurt, sweetheart?”

“No,” you hiccup, curling your hands around his wrists. Your lower lip trembles. “I—I thought I’d never see you again. I was scared I wouldn’t,” you admit, softly.

Joel’s thumb wipes away a fresh tear. “M’here now,” he murmurs. “You’re with me, baby. You’re safe, alright?” As a late evening breeze passes through, he lets you go and shrugs out of his brown jacket. He goes to drape it around your shoulders, but you snatch it right out of his hands, then toss it aside.

Something in you snaps. You take fistfuls of his flannel, pulling him down towards you to do yet something else that takes you both by surprise—you initiate a kiss. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a little swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip as you clutch tighter at his shirt, holding him in place. Groaning, Joel opens his mouth more, his tongue brushing yours.

Liquid heat pools in your belly, and before you realize it, you’ve grown frantic, kissing him with fervor. Releasing his shirt, you slide your hands down his chest, over his stomach, lower and lower until you find his belt buckle. Desperate, you clumsily fumble with it, and that’s when Joel tears away from you, his breath hitching.

You’re begging before he can even say a word. “Please. I need you—I want you. Right now.”

You cup him through his jeans, and he exhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Without giving it a second thought, his hands reach for the straps of your dress, pushing them off of your shoulders. He roughly tugs at the material, letting it slip down your body until it falls around your feet. In a tangle of limbs and tongues, you both sink to the forest floor. Your hands brush his buckle, and he catches your wrists. “Not yet, baby girl. M’still in charge, alright?”

Sheepishly, you nod.

“Say it.” His command is firm, but somehow still gentle.

“You’re—you’re in charge.”

“Good girl.” Joel guides you onto your back. He’s over you in a second, swelling your lips with a hard, hungry kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless. He moves his mouth, teeth scraping over your cheek and jaw, down to your neck where he nips at the tender, delicate flesh over your pulse point. Then, he bites his way over your collarbone and to your shoulder. “Bet she’s already wet for me,” he mumbles into your skin. “Ain’t she, baby?”

Pushing himself back onto his knees, he slides a finger over your clothed cunt, eliciting a small gasp from you. Hooking his fingers under the elastic waistband of your cotton underwear, he yanks the fabric down your legs. It catches on your foot, your wetness smearing against the inside of your ankle.

You’re drenched.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling your hips over his thighs. He leans over you once more, your bare, throbbing cunt rubbing against the crotch of his jeans. He tuts lightly into your neck as you buck against him. “Such a fuckin’ needy little girl.”

Desperate, you try rolling your hips into his. “Joel.”

“Kinda like it when y’say my name.” He starts making his way down the length of your body. “Think I’ll like it even better when you’re screamin’ it. Won’t I, baby?”

Your stomach tightens as he nibbles his way down your neck again, teeth scraping over your clavicle and down your chest to your heaving tits. Taking one in his hand, the other goes into his mouth—his tongue is scorching hot over your nipple. He licks the pebbled flesh, sucks it and bites it while he rolls the other peak in between his thumb and index finger. “Oh fuck,” you gasp.

Releasing your breast with a wet pop, Joel sinks further down your body. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your tummy, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake. He stops over your mound and hovers for a fraction of a second before pressing his nose into the silky soft curls there. Inhaling deeply, Joel picks up the subtle, herbal scent of the lavender soap you had washed yourself with. “Fuck, y’smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes your thighs open, pinning one to the ground with his hand while the other goes over his shoulder. Your foot slides down his back, toes curling despite the fact that he hasn’t even reached the spot where you’re aching to have him most. Heart thundering, your blood rushes, roaring in your ears.

Joel turns his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh in another kiss. “S’this where y’want me, honey?” he asks you. Goosebumps erupt over every inch of your skin as he draws closer, his breath like steam on your core. He glances up at you, his cock twitching against his zipper at the sight of you laying naked before him on the floor of the forest. Willing. Wanting. “Hm? Right here?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

Thankfully, you only have to ask him once, and then his face is buried between your legs, and he is giving you what you want.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Back arching, your head tilts back until the crown of it meets the ground, leaves and twigs finding their way into your clean hair.

Joel’s tongue flattens over your cunt in a broad stroke, then dips between your folds, collecting your slick with a harsh groan, one that sends a bone-rattling vibration throughout your entire body, from head to curled toes. His mouth opens wider—a starving, greedy man trying to eat you whole. Sliding his tongue over your clit, Joel seals his lips around it, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves until it swells in his mouth.

High-pitched little cries and whines spill from your lips. Your hands shoot down, fingers tangling themselves in his dark, graying curls, eliciting a grunt from him when you tug at his roots. “Joel, fuck,” you choke, your nails scraping against his scalp. He slurps and swallows your wetness, the sounds drowning out those of the night—the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the soft hooting of owls are washed away until all you can hear is him devouring your pussy.

Your body starts to tremble, and you know you’re close. Joel does, too. He feels your thighs twitch, threatening to close around his head, but he wrenches them further apart with a muffled but firm, “No.” He drapes his arm over your pelvis, his large hand splayed on your belly.

Relentless, he sucks your clit, gliding his tongue over it, again and again until the muscles in your lower tummy tighten and you burst at the seams, unraveling into his mouth. Warm slick gushes out of you, a sweet mess he licks clean. You choke back sobs of pleasure, your body tensing, vision blurring with every stroke of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth over your clit.

Joel lifts himself onto his knees with a grunt and gazes down at you—his good girl, sweet and pliant and ready to be fucked full of his cock. His hands slide his belt out of its brass buckle, eyes still trained on you as he pops the button of his jeans and yanks down his zipper.

Your mind is fuzzy, still syrupy and dripping—it doesn’t fully register what he’s doing, not until he climbs back over you and you his hard cock brushes your thigh, hot velvet that sears the inside of your leg. Precum smears your flesh.

“Y’feel that? Feel what you fuckin’ do to me?”

“Joel.” Hands shaking, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on yours. You whine when he catches both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Your clothes—”

“Stay on.” Ducking his head, he nips at your pulse point and mumbles, “Tell me what y’want, pretty girl.”

Joel shifts over you, his cock now resting on your lower belly, thick and heavy and leaking.

You squirm under him, hips coming off the ground, that hollow thing inside of you begging to be filled.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what y’want.”

“You, Joel—I want you. Please, please, please—”

He hushes you.

“I’ve you, baby. I’ve got you,” Joel promises. He wraps his other hand around himself, dragging the head of his cock along the seam of your puffy folds, up and down—he elicits a ragged little gasp from you when he grazes your clit and his fingers tighten around your wrists. He coats himself in your slippery slick until he’s glistening with it, and then he gives a slow roll of his hips, working himself into you.

Your mouth falls open. No words come out, no pleas for more—only jerky breaths, pathetic little pants for air as you take it.

Joel’s cock throbs, pulses like a heartbeat as your cunt welcomes him home. He presses his forehead to yours. “She’s always so fuckin’ sweet to me.” His voice is low, rough gravel. His eyes meet yours in the dark blue glow of the forest, and he savors the last moments of seeing your pretty face before the last traces of dusk are gone. Brushing his lips to the corner of your mouth, he feeds you his cock inch by inch, murmuring, “That’s it, honey. Good fuckin’ girl.”

You melt around him at his praise.

Releasing your wrists, he moves his hand, placing it on the crown of your head. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he swears. “Alright? Never gonna be apart from me again, baby girl. Never. Y’understand me?” He curls his other hand firmly around your jaw, his fingers sticky with you and him. “Do you understand me?”

“Never,” you repeat, softly.

Joel kisses you, deep and slow, almost sweet. Tender. He breaks away, his lips hovering right over yours as he pushes his hips forward, bottoming out inside you.

Moaning, your hands grasp at his shoulders. Your legs widen further to accommodate the breadth of his hips.

“There y’go.” Joel presses deep within, until your belly feels hot and full. “That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he coos, drawing his hips back, then rolling them right back into you. He takes one of your ankles and tosses it over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck into you.

A loud cry tears from the back of your throat. “Joel!”

He grins in the darkness. He knew he’d like hearing you scream his name.

Joel’s hand settles on your leg that’s over his shoulder, your thigh already shaking. “Y’gonna be a real good girl n’ give me another one?”

You try to answer him, you really do, but your mind falls further and further away.

His fingertips sink into your thigh. He strokes in and out of you, never retreating more than inches at a time so he keeps you full. Stuffed. “Christ. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well,” he croons, moving your leg off of his shoulder so they are both wrapped around his waist. Hunching over you, he bears down hard, using most of his weight. He almost chuckles at the little oof that puffs out of you.

Rocks and twigs dig painfully into your back, but all you can do is feel him. How close he is.

You’re right there with him.

“Joel—fuck, I’m gonna co—”

You’re cut off by your own sharp gasp.

“That’s it. C’mon, honey.” Joel slips his hand between your thighs, his fingers firmly rubbing your clit. “C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock—”

It rips through you like an electric current, a shockwave that has you clawing at the dirt. You come crying Joel’s name, crumbling into a whimpering, quivering mess.

Within seconds, he’s swept away by the same tide.

“Baby,” he groans, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck. He goes still and lets your tight cunt clench at him, gripping his cock as it throbs, pulses, empties into you. After a minute, he brushes a kiss to your neck before mumbling, “My sweet girl.”

Joel makes no move to pull out of you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your soiled fingers toy with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shattered breaths slowing and piecing back together.

You gaze up through the trees at the night sky, feeling the safest you’ve ever been with the earth at your back and your whole world on top of you, his cock buried in your cunt.

Tess is right. Joel Miller really does have you fucked in the head.

You’re certain of it when you make the realization with a smile.

divider credit to @/saradika 🖤

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

[muwapsturniolo]

Nipple or Tip ( • )( • ) C. Sturniolo

"I also saw one of those weird makeup hacks-"

⟢ funny shit tbh. nipples and tips of dick are mentioned as well as balls. chris being unhinged in ulta, reader done with his bs but also down with his bs.

dividers by the one and only rose toy @bernardsbendystraws

You were a beauty lover, it was well known by everyone in your life. When you were a kid, you were constantly in your moms makeup bag, messing up her high-priced lipsticks and eyeshadows on a daily basis.

As you got older, that love for makeup stayed.

You had a whole beauty room in your two-bedroom apartment. You had the vanity, the box lights as well as ring lights, and drawers on top of drawers filled with makeup you may not even have a chance to touch.

Chris knew of your love for makeup, he has been in you're beauty room one too many times to think otherwise. He never saw it as too much because he knew it was your way of expressing yourself - he was never the one to hate on expression.

So here he was, driving you to the place he should just invest in at this point.

Ulta.

You spent so much time there, that the workers recognize you. You have the credit card, you've racked up points, and you memorized the aisles. This was basically your third home, the first being your own and the second being Chris's.

"Alright, what do you need today?"

You proceed to go through your list as you walk inside the bright store, the sound of Billie's "Birds of a Feather" playing over the speakers. The song distracts him for a moment, but he comes back to reality hearing you say foundation.

"Wait, didn't you just get a new foundation?"

"Well...Yes, but I need another one!" He gives you a look as the two of you walk over to Wyn Beauty. "Technically, you don't need another one. You have about forty of them, but who am I to complain considering you're paying?"

It's comical to him the way you stop in your tracks, your eyes widening in disbelief. "What do you mean I'm paying? It's your turn to pay!"

Chris chuckles to himself, fixing the beanie on his head. "I'm just pulling your clit."

"Chris please stop fuckin' talking to me. That's not even how the damn saying goes!"

He giggles like a schoolboy and kisses your shoulder, motioning to the bright green packaging in front of you. "Go ahead and pick out your millionth foundation."

And so you do, you pick out a new foundation...and concealer, primer, setting spray, bronzer, lip gloss, and lipstick.

"Ok, now a lip liner." Your words spark Chris's interest, his mind going back to a specific video he saw not too long ago. The two of you start walking over to NYX, and he decides to fill you in on the content he consumed.

"So like, I saw this makeup video on tik- Why are you getting makeup videos on TikTok? What girl are you sending them to?"

"I'm getting them because of you, dumbass. You're the only girl that actually puts up with me, why would I talk to another one?" You snicker to yourself knowing he's right.

He's too in love with you to go find someone else.

"Anyway, like I was saying. I saw this video on TikTok where this girl was trying out these makeup hacks or secrets, whatever it's called. So she said the best way to match your lip liner is to match it to your nipples! Crazy shit, but it has me thinking, what if you matched it to the tip of my dick?"

All you could do was stare at him in silence.

"You being deadass?"

He shrugs before answering you, a smirk that shows he's up to no good making its way onto his face. "I mean, I think it would look nice on you. A nice pinky red....It's up your alley anyway considering you have a blush named 'orgasm' and a mascara called 'better than sex' ."

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking to me?" He groans and pulls you closer, his hands settling right on top of your ass. "Come on it would be funny! I will literally give you my card and let you roam in TJ Maxx and I will take you to Chili's!''

"You had me at TJ Maxx."

You whip your phone out, thanking yourself for buying a privacy screen, and begin scrolling through your privet photo albums to find a picture of Chris's dick.

"Wait, you should match one to your nipples too. Then we can compare which one looks better."

He could be so childish at times, but you were the exact same.

The two of you stand in the aisle, holding up different shades of pink and brown to your phone. Eventually, you two settle on "Rose" and "Nutmeg", the two colors being the closest you could get.

Soon the two of you are back in the car and Chris is urging you to try on both lip liners, refusing to drive until he sees them on you. You first try on the brown shade, lining your lips with ease. It was a pretty color, simple and not unusual considering you always wore brown lipliner.

You turn to Chris, asking him what he thinks. "Sexy as usual. You know I like it when you do the brown ones." You smile at his flattering words, giving him a quick peck on the lips before wiping the lip liner off. You unravel the pink liner and swipe it on, rubbing your lips together so it blends out.

"So what do we think? Nipple or tip?"

You see the way his eyes dart across your face, analyzing everything about you.

"Both look good, you know you can make everything look good. It's what I love about you." You find your cheeks getting warm, never getting used to the way he makes you feel so good, even on days when you look like a bum.

"Come on, I promised to let you roam in TJ Maxx." He puts the car in reverse and begins driving towards the retail store. The drive is quiet for the most part, nothing but music and the occasional small talk. As soon as the two of you make it to TJ Maxx, Chris turns to you before getting out of the car.

"You know, I also saw one of those weird makeup hacks where this girl put her foundation on with her boyfriend's balls."

"This the last time imma tell you to shut up talkin' to me!"

[cruel-as-sin]

take the weight off his shoulders | logan howlett

pt. 2

↳ summary: you're a stripper and old man!logan comes into the club where you work- so you decide to show him a good time.

word count: 3k

song: older | isabel larosa

pairings: old man!logan x fem!stripper!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn w/o plot, prostitution/strip clubs, age gap (readers age is unspecified but she is an adult), praise kink, gentle sex, striptease and lapdance hehe, size difference, protected p in v, grinding, handjob, lingerie mentioned, the glasses stay on, practice safe sex everyone (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: ao3 saw this first and it took way too long for me to move it over to tumblr but. here it is lmao. as i said there old man logan does something CRAZY to me so it was only fitting i wrote about him, enjoy! also this is not proofread so apologies for any mistakes :’)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Logan's not sure why he goes into the club across the street.

Maybe he needs to feel young again. Maybe he's bored. Maybe the adamantium poisoning the rest of him has finally managed to get to his brain and turned his thoughts into some sort of horny, befuddled shit show.

Or maybe, just maybe, he really is just that fucking desperate.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It's past midnight when he walks through the door. You've been busy all night, but things are finally starting to wind down, the customers that frequent the small establishment slowly trickling out until only a few remain. None of them are your regulars, and given how empty the doorway has been, you're honestly considering calling it a night and going home early. The past few days have been hellish, full of people who didn't do a damn thing to turn you on, and you'd love nothing more than to sink into a warm, cozy bed and drift off to sleep. Tonight, you've been roaming the floor for the past hour without getting anything- everybody is either interested in another one of the workers or entirely fixated on the dancers.

It's not that you don't like your job- you do. Sure, being a stripper isn't the most flattering form of work, but the bills are paid. That's all that really counts these days. Your pride has long since been discarded in favor of earning hefty tips from the sleazy guys who are dumb enough to believe that you'd actually be into them. You put on a good show, of course, but if it weren't for the money? Not a fucking chance.

You like it that way. Hardly any of your clients go beyond the intimacy of a private dance, mainly because you don't let them, reserving that for your favorites. But you haven't met someone who turns you on in a long while, and without the occasional thrill of a real good time from a customer, you're starting to get bored. The days are blurring together, nothing separating the good days from the bad ones, if there even is such a thing anymore.

You're on your way to ask your boss if you can get off early when you hear the bell ring. You groan internally, realizing that you're the only one on the floor who isn't occupied, meaning if this client is interested, they're yours.

Damn it.

So much for an early night.

You're midway through praying to whatever God is out there that this client tips well when you turn and actually lay eyes on them. The moment you do, your mind goes blank, your prayers long forgotten as your thoughts become consumed by him.

He's older- much older. Pushing sixty, at least. It's not inherently a bad thing, but typically the older they are, the more entitled they become.

You're not usually into older men, finding them self-centered, greedy, unable to keep up with your desires; but you're not even ashamed to admit that this stranger could ask you to do just about anything and you'd probably agree in a heartbeat.

The man is tall, big, his muscular form obvious even underneath the suit and tie he wears. His salt and pepper hair is short, accompanied by a scruffy beard you're certain would feel like heaven against your thighs. His tie is loose, his top button undone, and he's got on a pair of dollar-store glasses that he hasn't even pulled the tag off of. There's a weight to him, an exhaustion that seems to have infiltrated the deepest parts of his soul, as if he's seen things you couldn't even begin to fathom- and yet, he's here, seeking some semblance of relief.

Lucky for him, you know exactly how to give it to him.

He looks around like he's lost, the colorful lights and sultry music overwhelming, the center stage where your coworkers get dollar bills thrown at their feet foreign to him. By the time you've made your way over, your legs moving of their own accord, he's turning to leave. "Hey." You call out, and he stops, turning back around to face you.

He's even bigger up close, and his eyes roam over your form almost shamefully before finally meeting your own. "I was just leaving." His voice is rough, a little scratchy, and while you're sure it's supposed to be intimidating, all it does is further fuel the heat pooling between your legs.

"So soon?" You look up at him with a doe-eyed gaze you're well aware makes men weak in the knees.

"I shouldn't be here." He says, but he doesn't walk away from you.

You move a little closer so your breath is fanning across his neck, your voice dripping with suggestion. "I could show you a good time."

"Listen, sweetheart, I've got-"

Sweetheart.

"Let me take care of you." You lean up to whisper in his ear. Your breath is hot against his skin, your mouth tantalizingly close, and you can feel the way he twitches slightly- an exercise of self-control.

A moment passes, two, and he lets out a long breath. "Fuck, darlin'." He reaches out, hesitant to touch, as if he's not sure how this works, doesn’t want to cross some invisible line he hasn’t learned exists. You take his hand, guiding it to your waist, reaching up to put one hand on the back of his neck. "You sure know how to get a guy wrapped around your finger."

In response, you give a coy smile, taking his tie in one hand and giving it a soft tug. He allows you to guide him, pulling him along by the tie you're sure he has a million ideas of what to do with.

You lead him into a private room, pulling the curtain closed behind you, letting his tie slip out of your grasp. His eyes dart around for a moment, but then you're in front of him again, reaching up and sliding his blazer off of his shoulders. You hang it up on the wall, then return, now slowly guiding him backwards and giving him a gentle shove into the leather chair near the wall. He raises an eyebrow as you circle him, leaning in from behind to whisper in his ear. "Just relax." You murmur, letting your lips graze his neck before pulling away. He leans back, eyes following your every move, a stare that feels like it could set you on fire.

You put on a good show for him- dancing, teasing, tantalizingly close, but never touching. Not yet. You can see the hunger in his gaze, the restraint it takes for him not to pull you down into his lap and keep you there. You give him a strip tease, taking off your bra and letting your breasts go free. His eyes roam over you, a murmured word, "Beautiful," leaving his lips, and that makes your already soaked panties drenched.

Then you give him a lap dance- and unlike most of the men you meet, he doesn't touch, doesn't paw at you. Instead he waits, lets you set the pace, doesn't do anything without your permission. Your hands go to his tie, undoing it at a speed you know is killing him, tossing it aside.

Finally, you rest yourself entirely on his lap, and whisper in his ear. "You can touch now, if you want to."

His hands immediately settle on your hips, like they belong there. You grind down against him, feeling him tense beneath you at the friction against his clothed cock. You repeat the motion, relishing in the groan it elicits from him. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and he begins to guide your motions, pressing you down against his thigh in a way that makes you moan. It's a small, soft sound, but it still makes him smile. “Atta girl, that’s it.” He huffs approvingly. You keep going, feeling yourself almost get lost in the rhythmic movement before you come back to your senses.

Your hands move to the collar of his shirt, slowly beginning to undo the buttons, revealing his toned chest. You only get about halfway down before his hands are gripping your wrists, and your protest dies on your lips when he leans up and kisses you.

He tastes like cigar smoke and whiskey, a blend that should be uncomfortable but is somehow pleasant. His tongue slips into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer. By the time he finally pulls away for air, you're dizzy, flushed.

A kiss- almost as personal as a name.

You've never met a man who could make you feel like this- and certainly not without getting all your clothes off first.

His words snap you out of your breathless haze. "Let me touch you, baby." His voice is both a plea and a demand, and who are you to deny him such a request?

A simple nod is all it takes before his hands are on you, roving over your breasts with an appreciative groan. You can't help the way your hips rock against him, and one of his hands goes down to your ass, encouraging you to grind against him again. His other hand rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, while his mouth leaves sloppy kisses along your neck, down to your breasts.

You bury your face in his neck, breathing him in. His head comes up from your chest to whisper in your ear as he keeps your hips moving back and forth, his other hand alternating between your breasts. His skin muffles your moans, but you know he won't let you hide those pretty sounds from him forever. "You're so perfect." His words don't exactly do you any favors in the 'keeping your composure' department. "Sweet, pretty thing like you..." He nips at your earlobe, making you gasp softly. "You got no idea what you do to me."

Those words snap you back a little, remind you of your promise to take care of him. You raise your head up, leaning back a little to meet his eyes. "Then show me." Your hands reach down towards his belt, and this time, he doesn't stop you. Instead, his gaze roams over you as you unbuckle it, slowly pull it out of the loops of his pants, toss it aside, letting it join the other discarded articles littering the floor. You undo the buttons, then pull his pants down.

Even through his boxers, you can clearly see the outline of his aching hardness. You gently take him in your palm, running your hand along him through the fabric, watching the way his eyes flutter. Then you adjust yourself so you're grinding on him again, thin layers of clothing the only thing separating the two of you.

You go on like that for a little while, keeping track of every little sound he makes, every hitch of his breath and shudder that goes through his body. Then you lean back, pulling his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Immediately, your mouth waters. He's huge, the biggest you've ever seen, and you find yourself wondering if you even can take him.

You push that thought aside for now, swiping your thumb across his tip, smiling to yourself at the groan that leaves him. You repeat the motion, letting precum gather on your fingers as you begin to move your hand up and down, up and down. You start slow, stroking him gently, then gradually increase your pace. Midway through, you grab a condom with your other hand, keeping eye contact as you open the wrapper with your teeth. You roll it onto him in one smooth motion, earning a startled grunt. His head falls back, his breaths coming unevenly, and it takes him a while before he can manage a coherent sentence.

"Fuck, you treat every guy like this?" Even with all the energy he can muster, the words are still a little short.

Your smile widens, and you lean in to press a kiss against the vein of his throat. "Only the good ones."

His mouth opens, as if to argue with the notion that he's anything good, but your ever-faster movements silence any protests that could have come from him.

You can tell he's getting close, and you slow down, letting him breathe a little slower as you whisper a soft question. "Where do you want me? You want my mouth, you want-"

Your words are cut off by his hand cupping your clothed mound, a gasp escaping you. "I want this." His voice is rough, and this time, it's not a plea. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as you unconsciously begin to move against his hand, chasing any friction he can give you. "I think it's a little unfair, seeing how I'm all out in the open and you've still got these," His thumb hooks in the waistband of your panties. "Separating me from you, hmm?

You don't even answer, just raise your hips up slightly so he can tug your lingerie down your legs until it falls and hits the floor. Immediately, his gaze lands on your exposed cunt. "Jesus, you're soaked." He murmurs, running his fingers through your slick. You whine as he brushes against your clit, and he chuckles. "Need me that bad, huh?"

"Need you." You whine. You can tell he wants to take it slow, to tease you, and by god do you want to let him- but you're impatient, your own teasing having riled you up too much to do anything but fuck him. Luckily, he picks up on your silent request, raising your hips to hover above his cock. His gaze searches yours, waiting for permission, and you nod. "Fuck me." You say softly, and it takes everything in him not to come completely fucking undone at that sweet tone of voice.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowers you down onto him. It burns, in a delicious way you've come to love in your years here. Even with the sheer amount of wetness coming from you, it's still a struggle to make him fit- but he does. When you've finally sank all the way down onto his cock, he lets you breathe for a moment. "You can take it, baby." He murmurs reassuringly- a support and a chance for you to back out. You close your eyes, breathing in and out, resting your face in the crook of his neck again.

Then you start to move.

It takes him by surprise, and you like the grunt that comes from him. For someone of his age, you're sure not much can catch him off guard anymore, so that makes it all the better when you lean back to see the look on his face. He catches your small smirk and returns it with one of his own, letting you move yourself up and down, over and over. Your pace slowly increases as the two of you adjust, and the room is soon filled with soft noises and the sound of flesh against flesh.

It's slow, almost sensual, but despite the circumstances that should have you turning this in another direction, you like it. You feel that familiar coil building in your stomach, your soft whimpers turning to moans now.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

All you can do is nod, and he rocks his hips up into yours. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, until you can't think of anything else but him and how fucking good he's making you feel, how badly you need to come undone on his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Your voice takes on a sharp pitch as he thrusts up into you, and your vision goes white for a moment as your orgasm hits you, unending bliss shaking your whole body. He rides out your orgasm for as long as he can, but the tight feeling of your cunt clenching around him soon sends him over the edge too. You can feel him twitching inside you, only prolonging the aftershocks of your own pleasure.

Eventually, you both come down. You're breathing heavily, trying to scramble together any semblance of thought. He stands suddenly, picking you up like you weigh nothing and setting you down on the chair. His cock slips out of you at some point during the process, leaving you feeling empty. You sit there for a moment before opening your eyes, finding him pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. He meets your gaze with a hint of a fond smile, bending over to grab his tie.

You stand up to retrieve your own clothes, pulling them back on while he shoves his arms through the sleeves of his blazer and rifles through his pockets, eventually pulling out his wallet. "Um, how much do I owe you?"

He looks almost embarrassed, and you find it kind of adorable. You flash him a smile, saying words you never thought you'd dare to let pass your lips. "Nothing. It's on me."

Immediately, his eyebrow shoots up. "No, I can't... I can't let you do that, pretty girl."

You shake your head. "I insist. Nobody's ever fucked me like that, and certainly not any of my clients." You see the way your words boost his ego- good. He deserves it. "Besides, if you hadn't showed up, I'd have gone home anyway." You say nonchalantly, taking a few steps over to him. You reach up and put a finger to his lips before he can continue to argue. "It's on the house."

Although he still looks conflicted, he reluctantly nods. "Okay. Next time, then."

Next time.

You feel a thrill run through your body as he brings up the prospect of a next time, and your smile widens. "Next time." You affirm. You step back, letting him be on his way.

He moves towards the curtain, pausing before he goes. "See you around, sweetheart."

And just like that, he's gone.

But you don't miss him- because you know he'll be back.

So when you finally make it home and climb into bed after that warm shower, there's still a fond smile on your face as you drift off to sleep, dreaming of the weary stranger and his wonderful words.

[redwing4life]

Home Cooked Meal

CHAPTER 4 | ASHES TO EMBERS

can be read as a stand alone :)

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbour!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut (finally) - dirty talk, pet names, oral f and m receiving, fingering, tit play, praise kink, hand kink?, ball play, hair pulling, unprotected PinV sex, aftercare, reader and bucky have dinner, swearing, fluff, let me know if i missed anything!

SUMMARY: You surprise Bucky with a home cooked meal after his shift, and it’s the best damn thing he’s had in years. The pasta was pretty good too.

WORD COUNT: 10550 (ngl i rechecked this three times cuz i didn’t think i wrote this much but turns out i did in fact write over 10k words im sorry lmao)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER // NEXT CHAPTER

Call me when you get home x

Your text still sits on Bucky’s lock screen, read but not opened, as he gets changed out of his work clothes.

It’s fair to say that the message intrigued him when he first read it half an hour ago, just before he left the firehouse. His legs sped up your building stairwell faster than normal, desperate to find out why you’re awaiting his call.

Knowing you would have said so if you were in immediate danger, Bucky sifts through the multitude of possibilities that await him on the other side of the ring tone; none of which ease the butterflies in his stomach.

He walks to his kitchen, phone in hand, to get a glass of orange juice. Pulling up your contact page, he presses ‘call’ and grabs the carton of juice from the fridge door.

You answer after just one ring, eager to hear his voice.

“Hey, Barnes!” God, Bucky loves your voice.

“Doll.” His voice is soft, tone rising at the end with curiosity. “You asked me to call, what’s up?”

The firefighter swoons at the adorable giggle you let out, the sound distant from the mic as though you’ve tried to hide it. “I was worried you didn’t see my text.” You admit.

Bucky pictures you biting your lip anxiously, an accurate prediction for your current state.

“What are you doing right now?”

Glancing down at the yet-to-be-filled glass in front of him, Bucky leans a hand against the kitchen island. “Just about to get a drink, what are-“

“Don’t!” You cut in. “Don’t get a drink, I need you to come over.”

“What, now? What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, James. Just come knock, okay? I’ll see you in a minute!”

And with that, the call cuts off with a dull beep; Bucky brings the phone down from his ear and stares at it in confusion. You’re being weird, never having hung up on him like that before.

Alpine meows from above the fridge, drawing her owner’s attention away from the phone, only to tilt her head at him.

Even Alps is confused.

Deciding to just do what you told, Bucky slips his phone into the pocket of his dark jeans, returns the orange juice to the fridge and sets off for the front door. He finds himself checking over his appearance in the entry way mirror, eyes scanning over his outfit before he smooths out his hair.

Although he won’t admit it, Bucky’s spent a lot more time in front of that mirror lately; checking his collar isn’t twisted, his hair isn’t too messy and there’s nothing stuck in his teeth. The need to look good, to look good for you, hasn’t gone unnoticed by his colleagues.

He considers using the spare key you gave him and letting himself into your apartment but shakes the thought away.

She asked you to knock, Bucky. Not break in.

With one final nod in the mirror, Bucky leaves his apartment, stepping into the hallway he’s spent so many mornings and nights in with you.

Old jazz music greets his ears when he approaches your door, the soft melody sneaking through the cracks of the door frame. Bucky smiles to himself at the thought of you dancing in your kitchen, heart warming when he notices your humming.

Knocking thrice, the firefighter steps back and nervously stuffs his hands into his pockets. You always make him nervous, those darn butterflies stirring in his stomach whenever he’s about to see you. And when he does see you. Actually, they’re there even when he imagines seeing you.

He takes a breath when he hears you shuffling up to the door, but nothing could prepare him for the sight when it swings open.

Rusty red fabric flows from your neckline to the middle of your thighs, small flowers dotted over the slightly orange colour. Two thin straps perched on your shoulders leave plenty of skin on show as your usual sun-pendant necklace sits between the v-neck of your dress. Which, by the way, perfectly presents the soft swell of your breasts.

It takes everything Bucky has to not drool at his breathtaking neighbour, but it takes even more to not dive on you and finally taste those pink lips.

Your skin is ablaze beneath his eyes and you revel in his reaction, the exact response you wanted when you pulled on the dress two hours ago.

“We’re matching.” You grin, taking a moment to enjoy Bucky’s red henley.

“It’s almost like we planned it.” A chuckle escapes him, eyes trailing up from your thighs to meet yours.

“Speaking of plans,” You reach out to pull Bucky closer, tugging his forearms until he pulls his hands out of his pockets, “I have a surprise for you.”

Is it letting me look at you in that dress all evening? Your neighbour thinks - hopes - as you lead him into your apartment.

Closing the door behind him, you take his hand in yours once more to guide him to your little kitchen/diner area. If you weren’t looking ahead, you’d see Bucky’s cheeks flushed pink at your touch. Seeing your hand encompassed with his own will never fail to drive him crazy.

When he eventually looks up from your joined hands, he’s stunned to a halt. You turn back to him when you feel him plant his feet and your features twist into a nervous expression.

“I- Doll, what is all this?” The firefighters eyes are wide at your ‘surprise’.

Your small dining table is set up for two; cream place mats lay beneath charcoal gray pasta dishes with wine glasses sitting at their corners. There’s even a little vase with pink and yellow tulips in between the two spaces.

“Well, remember that time when you told me you haven’t had a proper home cooked meal in years?” You watch Bucky closely as you speak, waiting for some sign of approval.

“You mean this morning?” He turns to you in wonder, thinking back to your conversation as he gave you a lift to the cafe. “I don’t know what to say, doll.”

You roll back on your heels, hands scrunching your dress at your sides. “Is it okay? I know it’s a little cheesy and it’s last minute but I thought it would be a nice surprise for you after working all day. I mean, it’s not exactly at your home but it’s pretty cl-“

Bucky takes two long strides towards you and brings his hands to cup your cheeks; your words die on your tongue when he looks down at you with tender eyes.

“It’s perfect, Y/n.” He smiles, stroking his thumb over your cheek bone. “You could feed me Alpine’s food and i’d still bow at your feet, sweets.”

Now you’re the one blushing. You heart skips when Bucky’s eyes drop to your lips with hunger in his gaze.

“Always so good to me, aren’t ya?” His words tempt a whimper from deep within you, a submissive whine held back by the last of your restraint.

“Well-“

The oven beeps, its sharp tone darting between your bodies and making you step back from Bucky’s hold.

“Uhh” Your mind is all over the place as the firefighter watches you with amusement, “I- I should, I mean- the pasta must be-“

“Go, doll.” Bucky shakes his head laughing quietly.

Your dress sways as you spin away to the stove, stirring various pots and tidying up the counters. Your neighbour watches you in awe, unashamedly enjoying the view; you just look so goddamn sexy in that cute little dress while you cook for him. He wishes he could come home to this every night.

“You need a hand with anything, doll?” Bucky’s voice sounds from behind you.

“Actually, yeah!” You glance over your shoulder. “Come here.”

If you keep bossing him about, Bucky’s gonna struggle not to tear that sweet little sundress right off you.

Settling in at your side, Bucky cocks his head. “What d’ya need?”

You scoop some of the creamy tomato sauce onto a spoon and bring it to Bucky’s lips. “Try this for me.”

With bated breath, you watch his full lips wrap around the end of the spoon, his eyes bearing into yours as he drags the sauce into his mouth.

Bucky has no business looking as dirty as he does in this moment; you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows before his tongue juts out to catch a few missed drops. And just when you thought your panties would survive the sight, a moan ripples from his throat and you clench around nothing at the sound.

“Good?” You murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice when you cross your legs.

He notices.

“Delicious,” Bucky takes the spoon from your hand and stretches across you to place it back in the pan, his right hand brushing against the small of your back, “you did great, sweets.”

Fuck. Me.

You regather your composure and ask Bucky to get the wine from the fridge. He pours you both a glass, setting them back on the dining table gently before returning the bottle to its home.

“Hey, could you bring the bowls over, please?” You call over your shoulder.

You plate up the sauce coated pasta while Bucky places the dirty pans in the sink, both working around each other like a fine tuned machine.

Before you can do it yourself, Bucky is picking up the bowls and laying them on the place mats, winking at you as he does so. He pulls your chair out for you, nodding for you to join him.

“For you, Madame.” He jokes, allowing you to sit down while tucking you in.

You watch him round the table and take his own seat. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

Bucky grins at you. The orange glow of sunset shines through your windows, catching your features with grace. Your eyes shine beneath the light and Bucky can’t help but find you angelic.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I don’t know if I said that earlier but, god, you look stunning tonight.”

Dropping your head, you play with the hem of your dress shyly. Your hair falls into your face, forcing you to push it behind your ears, though Bucky wishes he was close enough to do it himself.

With rose tinted cheeks, you look up at Bucky through your lashes. “You say that to all your neighbours, Barnes?” You raise a brow with your teasing voice.

Bucky throws his head back and laughs heartily, a sound you’ve come to adore.

“Only the ones who cook for me.” He winks.

“Doesn’t Ms Scott bring you pies every couple weeks?”

“And I tell her she looks ravishing every time.”

You giggle and tell Bucky to dig in, though you could happily sit and talk all night. While you both stop every now and then for a forkful of food, conversation bounces between you as it always does.

Tonight isn’t much different to a typical evening with the firefighter next door; usually you share some snacks and beers, cozying up on the couch as you watch tv. It’s become ritual for you to send Bucky a video of you playing the piano each evening, his phone playing the video on loop as he sleeps. It’s strange, but the music creeps into his dreams and keeps them peaceful, keeps him away from that burning building.

It’s been a few weeks since the night he was sent home early. Both you and Bucky felt a shift that night; waking up in his arms left you craving more, though you’ve yet to tell him as much. You left him sleeping peacefully that morning when you left for work with only a couple hours of sleep under your belt.

Bucky hated waking up to find the other side of his bed empty, no longer feeling your heat. The note you left him eased the disappointment slightly, your neat handwriting promising to come back in your breaks. Neither of you have addressed how right it felt to sleep beside each other that night, despite spending all of your free time together with unspoken words hanging over you.

Instead, you dance around each other like two ghosts doomed to never touch. The bond between you is stronger than any you’ve ever had, the magnetic lure undeniable for you both.

Your glasses have been emptied and refilled twice now - dinner long since been finished - and you’re starting to feel the buzz; those butterflies in your stomach have turned into a swarm of confidence, your brain taking a backseat from its usual overthinking.

“You expect me to believe that you broke down the door before Sam could? The same guy who beat you at your physical a few weeks back?” You tease the brunette, a challenging brow raised at his rather unimpressed face.

“What are you trying to say there, doll?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches when you tilt your head slightly, eyes shining with amusement beneath the exposed hanging light bulbs.

“Nothing to worry your cute little head about.” You watch Bucky relax into his chair slightly as you reach for your glass with a smirk. “Just that I doubt Sam has any difficulty kicking a door down, not with the way he’s built.”

The scoff to end all scoffs ripples from your neighbours throat; his bright blue orbs glare into you and his features twist into a scowl. Oh if looks could kill…

Bucky’s tone is flat, “Didn’t know you were such an admirer of Wilson’s build, Y/n.”

The lack of a pet name sends your confidence wavering, but not enough to keep you from having a little fun.

“Well, you know,” You bring the glass to your lips, “he’s hardly difficult to miss.”

Watching the deep ruby liquid pass over your lips, Bucky fights to hide the fury that’s flooding his veins, forced to look away from your smug grin.

He knows, he knows, that you’re lying through your teeth, trying to get a rise out of his usually impenetrable facade, and yet he can’t help but feel jealous.

Bucky’s painfully aware that he has no right to feel so possessive, not when he lays no claim to you. But the twist of his stomach is proof that he doesn’t much care.

“Maybe I should just give you his number and you can cook him a meal next time.” Bucky grumbles.

“Oh, that’s alright, I already have his number.”

You’ve never seen Bucky’s head snap up as quickly as it just did, his gaze pinning you to your spot.

“You what?”

Gently, you place your glass back on the table. “Yeah, Steve gave him my number last week so he could get in touch.”

The fire in those blue eyes burns brighter with each word, his body so still that his chest is barely moving when he breathes. In fact, you’re not even sure if he is breathing. Hell, he’s not even sure if he’s breathing.

“Is that right?” Bucky’s gruff voice is laced with possessiveness, the low tone travelling straight to your panties till you swear you feel yourself throb. You wonder briefly if you have a jealousy kink and the sweet arousal dripping from your cunt only confirms your suspicions.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, “In fact, i’m going out for coffee with him next week.”

“Huh.”

Bucky’s chair screeches against the hardwood floor as he pushes himself back. You follow his movements with amused eyes when he stands up and grabs your plates before storming to the kitchen. You twist in your chair, watching him place the dishes in the sink and flick on the tap.

“James, what are you doing?” You ask.

“What does it look like i’m doing?” Oh he’s grumpy, grumpy.

Bucky’s shoulders are tense beneath his tight henley, his sleeves now rolled up as he starts scrubbing at the plates. It’s quiet while he concentrates on his work, only accompanied by the music still flowing from your speaker.

From the corner of his eye, the firefighter sees you rise from your chair, ears honed in on the sound of your feet pattering towards him.

It’s now hard for Bucky to focus on anything but your breath on his neck, goosebumps littered across his skin like a rash. You stand right behind him, tracing your fingers up from the small of his back; Bucky’s muscles tense momentarily before melting at your touch, just like always.

“Ask me why i’m seeing Sam next week.” You order, hands still roaming the taut fabric on Bucky’s back. The command makes him pause and clench his eyes shut. Why are you making him talk about this when it’s tearing him apart?

The brunette turns in your hold but you don’t release him, instead settling your hands on his waist.

“Why are you seeing him, doll?” Bucky sounds despondent, brows furrowed in confusion as he looks down at you.

“He asked me to teach his nephews to play the piano, Buck. I’m meeting him and the boys on Wednesday, Sarah too.”

A shocked ‘What’ tumbles from his lips as the information sinks in, his frown slowly falling away as he processes your words.

“Yeah…” You grin, though it’s more like a smirk, content with yourself proving he was jealous.

In a desperate attempt to save his ego, Bucky rolls his eyes playfully. “I knew you weren’t really attracted to that dumbass.”

You scoff and pat his chest lightly. “Sure you did, Barnes. Now scoot, you wash ‘em, i’ll dry ‘em.”

With his hands on his hips, he stays still as you nudge your way to his side, stretching to the window sill where your dish towels lay. Bucky’s never been in this position before, it’s always him who’s teasing you; this is new territory for him and it irks him that you riled him up so easily.

Once he shakes his head clear, the firefighter returns to face the sink and starts washing the dishes again. You wait patiently while he works, humming along to whichever song is playing.

“You like the old stuff, huh doll?” Bucky grins warmly at the slight sway of your hips, your radiance beaming like a lantern.

You giggle sheepishly and bite your lip, unknowingly sending Bucky spiralling. “I thought it was fitting for tonight, really leaning into the whole ‘housewife’ role.”

He raises a brow, “Does that make me your doting husband then, sweets?”

Realising what you said, your cheeks heat up instantly and your eyes widen. You attempt to backtrack but your words stumble over one another as though you’re a little school girl.

Bucky, however, is basking in the familiarity of control; your rosy cheeks never fail to bring a smile to his face, and boy is he beaming right now.

“I meant- It’s- You know what I meant, James.” You shoot daggers at him, though the idea of being married to your neighbour sends your heart into overdrive.

That swoon-worthy laugh greets your ears with haste, Bucky’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his chest reverberates with its force. It’s impossible to bite back the grin that’s fighting its way onto your lips.

Small tendrils of chestnut hair tumble from behind his ears, begging to be pushed back, but the buzz from the wine has dulled and you can’t find the confidence to do it, no matter how much Bucky’s eyes are pleading you to.

“You know, it’s sweet of you to teach the boys how to play.” He looks at you in adoration, the image of you spending time with Sam’s nephews triggering a warmth to spread in his chest.

A breathy laugh escapes you as your gaze falls to the kitchen counter. You blush at the compliment and slowly start drying the dishes again.

“Do you spend much time with them?” You ask with a brief glance his way.

Bucky shrugs, “Yeah, Sarah is always throwing barbecues for the squad. They’re good kids, and I bet they’ll love you!”

“Oh God, I hope so. I’ve never taught before and i’m scared they’ll hate me and i’ll destroy their dreams and-” You ramble away without noticing the frown tugging at your neighbours brows.

“Teach me.”

Huh?

“What?” You freeze.

“You said you’ve never taught before,” Bucky steps closer to you, his cologne swarming around you like a warm hug, “so practise on me. Teach me something.”

You almost laugh at his words, mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that he’s joking. But Bucky doesn’t move, his blue eyes study your own, body so still that you fail to conjure a laugh. He’s not joking.

Hesitation is written across your features, drawing a single shake of Bucky’s head. “Come on, sweets. Please? For me?” He pleads.

“Okay.”

It’s scary how quickly you succumb to Bucky’s wishes; you fear you’d do awful things if only he asked and you’d even do it with a smile. You’re so doomed.

With a triumphant grin, Bucky plucks the dish cloth and plate from your grasp and carefully places them on the sink’s edge, before taking your hand in his and guiding you to your piano.

Nerves prickling beneath your skin, you trail behind him and silently revel in his touch. It’s hard to not stare at his perfect body as you stumble around furniture, the sharp muscles of his shoulders rippling as he tugs you with him. Flicking off the speaker on the way, you fall onto the small piano stool beside Bucky, and with such little room, your left thigh is pressed up against his. The solid curve of his muscles prod into your flesh and yet despite the fluttering it causes in your stomach, you’re far more focused on his hands.

From the bulge of his toned biceps to the trail of prominent veins in his forearms, your eyes drag down Bucky’s arms till you pause at the sight of his large hands. They lay spread across the span of his thighs, his right pinky finger mere atoms away from your exposed skin where your dress has ridden up. You find yourself craving the sparks that alight with his touch, so you adjust your position to make sure your leg brushes against his hand.

It certainly hasn’t gone amiss to the firefighter that you’ve taken a liking to his hands. Sure, he’s caught you staring at them before, but the hunger in your gaze right now is greater than ever.

The corner of Bucky’s lip turns up into a smirk as he reaches for your hands once more, lifting them to rest on the ivory keys of your piano.

“Wanna hear you play me something before you give me a lesson.” He admits, his words more of a demand than a question.

When you fail to respond, still caught up in scanning the crevices of his calloused hands, Bucky nudges your shoulder.

You shake your head with a dazed frown, “Huh?”

A playful chuckle falls from his pink lips, “I said play me something, sweets, before you start teachin’ me.”

You giggle sheepishly, sighing an ‘Oh’ before you gather your thoughts. Bucky returns his hands to his lap - a movement you struggle to ignore - giving you free rein of the instrument.

Running through some songs you could teach him, you settle for one of your favourites, or more accurately, one of Bucky’s favourites. The cool surface of the keys is harsh beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the Bucky-induced-heat flushing through your veins, hands stretching into place as you prepare the opening chords.

Rhythmic tones swarm around the two of you as you begin playing, masterfully dancing across the keys like it’s a second language. Your graceful motions always bring Bucky to a halt as you entrap him in your art.

He recognises the song straight away, lips turning up at the sweet melody. You didn’t even have to ask to know what he wanted to hear, you just knew. Bucky’s head feels light at the sight before him. A knowing grin has settled on your soft lips, your body ever so lightly swaying to the music, clearly getting lost the sounds.

It’s impossible not to feel the adoring stare of your neighbour, no matter how hard you try to ignore it. Warmth is pooling in the depths of your heart where it feels like you’re bleeding out, your love for Bucky forcing out the blood till the only thing circulating through your veins is him. No longer able to cope with the feelings swarming within you, your fingers abruptly stop mid song before you turn to look up at the firefighter.

“Okay, your go.” You state, but when Bucky raises a bemused brow your way, you continue to instruct him. “Come on. You’re gonna do the left hand, I’ll do the right.”

“Yes Ma’am!” Bucky chimes with a mock salute, earning him a glare.

It takes a few tries to move his fingers into the correct positions, both because he’s apparently wholeheartedly incapable of doing what you say but also because you may or may not zone out every time the veins of his hands stick out as he moves. But it’s still entirely his fault though. Entirely. ‘Maybe like 98% his fault. That’s seems fair.’ You think.

“There you go!” You cheer when the firefighter successfully plays the right notes in tandem.

“Would you look at that, not so useless after all.” Bucky winks at you and you blush lightly.

Glancing at him hopefully, you ask him to play the first chord you taught him.

“Oh, umm-“ He stutters, fingers flailing about and pressing random keys in search of the right pattern.

“Here, let me…” You chuckle sweetly at how utterly lost he looks and move to help him.

Leaning forward, you drag Bucky’s fingers over the ridges of ivorite, slowly placing them on the correct keys. You feel his lust-filled eyes trained on your face while you work, though it’s getting harder and harder to focus under his stare.

A frown tugs at your brows when your mind goes blank as to where Bucky needs to put his left hand, his still-wandering gaze burning into you and spreading to your cunt faster than you care to admit.

Of course, Bucky notices your breath quickening, chest stumbling up and down with shaky pants. His proximity is intoxicating and the will to fight it is slowly slipping past you, fingers itching to trace up Bucky’s thick arms to his neck so you can finally pull his lips to yours.

Bucky reads every inch of your skin like he’s studying for an exam. From the clench of your jaw to your eyes fluttering shut, he knows that he’s winning this tussle for control.

“Bucky…” You breathe, the wavering sigh rolling from your tongue like a stray secret.

“Yes, doll?” Bucky smirks with glinting eyes and you bite back a whimper.

Opening your eyes, you keep them trained on where yours rest on his. “I can’t focus with you looking at me like that.”

Bucky knows exactly what you mean but he can’t help but toy with you. “Like what?” He cocks his head with faux innocence that fools no one.

You turn to look up at the firefighter, eyes meeting his half lidded ones, the blue of his eyes barely visible behind his lust-blown pupils but the blue you can see is so impossible dark that you wonder if they were ever light in the first place.

Taking a breath, you wet your lips so briefly that Bucky nearly misses it. Nearly. “Like you want to kiss me.” You say, barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” Bucky sighs, leaning in closer, “I want to do much more than that.”

Your body is alight with need. Craving his touch, a breach of the barrier between you, you practically whine your reply. “Then why are you just staring?”

“Well, I wanna remember you like this; sweet, angelic, so perfect in your little sundress.“

With the back of his hand, Bucky nudges the hem of your dress higher till his whole hand is spread against your thigh. You quash the aching desire to glance at where your bodies meet and lock your eyes on Bucky’s, whose lips are turned into a knowing smirk.

“Gotta savour it while I can.” He says as he pushes his palm further to your inner thigh, his pinky finger mere inches from your heat.

“Why?” You ask, heart racing.

It dawns on you that you may actually pass out when the firefighter leans in close to you, nose pushing your hair aside to expose the soft skin of your neck which now sits defenceless to his advances. The heat of his breath is electrifying, lips nearing your pulse point eagerly.

Bucky’s lips ghost over your skin as he explains, “Cause once I’ve had my way with you, you’re gonna be a hot fucking mess, sweets.”

A breathy moan tumbles from the depths of you chest at the crude insinuations of his words; your eyes flutter shut, an unintentional reaction that you’re grateful for as it hides the way your pupils roll to the back of your head.

Through the dark span of your eyelids, you picture exactly how Bucky will make you a hot fucking mess. Spread legs with his tongue delving through your folds, back arched as he pounds into your pussy with vigour, his hands guiding your hips back to meet his as he fucks you from behind. The images bear too much for you yet you can’t stop picturing the salacious scenes, not when your neighbour is pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

“James…” You sigh, voice carrying the weight of a thousand pleas.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

Nodding your head desperately, you whine, unable to form any words beneath his sinful tongue.

“Words, doll.” Bucky says, lips hovering over your ear. He’s struggling to hold back but can’t let himself touch you the way he wants to until he hears you spell it out for him.

Turning your head slowly, you peer at Bucky with half-lidded eyes and a slack-jaw. “I want you, James. Please.”

That’s all it takes to disintegrate the final remnants of the firefighter’s self-control before his full lips meet your own with a hunger that’s been brewing for months.

Bucky’s lips glide across yours, slotting between your own so easily it’s got you believing this is not your first kiss. It’s soft and sweet but so goddamn sensual that you can’t help but moan into his mouth, the now open gap giving him the perfect chance to slide his tongue inside.

You bring your hands up Bucky’s body and rest them on his neck, fingers tentatively feeding through the hair at the nape of his neck while you jostle for control of the kiss.

Forced to pull back for breath, you take a peek only to find those strikingly blue eyes already on yours.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky whispers, “you don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“Probably not as long as I have.” You scoff.

“Then let me make up for lost time.”

“Wait, what do y-“

Within moments, Bucky is lifting your legs over the bench and is knelt between them, his large hands teasing the hem of your dress as he keeps your thighs spread apart.

Your mouth is agape with surprise while you grab onto the piano behind you for stability, a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins. And as if he can read your anxious thoughts, Bucky looks up at you with the most sincere expression across his soft features.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, despite the deep desire shining in his eyes. He wants you more than anything, but he needs to know you want him too.

It’s an easy answer and you’re shaking your head faster than you care to admit, but the memory of Bucky’s prior words flash through your mind and you still just as quick.

“No.”

Watching intently as he runs a hand from your ankle up to your knee, the firefighter rolls his bottom lip between his teeth when your breath hitches.

“Then promise me you’ll tell me if that changes?” Bucky asks.

You reach down and run your fingers through his chestnut locks, tucking the few loose strands behind his ear.

“I promise.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweets.”

A hearty laugh reverberates through you, but you’re quickly silenced by Bucky’s lips on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He kisses his way up to your heat, slowly pushing your dress higher and higher till the only thing between you and his mouth is the crimson lace panties covering your mound.

A sound you can only describe as a growl ripples through the room and you glance down at your neighbour to find him practically drooling at the sight of you. But then his eyes are on yours, his hungry, half-lidded eyes, and he’s tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Your breathing becomes laboured at his touch, your body, your mind, all of you at his mercy.

“Bucky, please…”

“Ah ah ah-“ The firefighter tuts, “-since when do you call me Bucky?”

You frown, back arching slightly in search of some friction on your core, too aroused to process his words properly.

“Look at me, Y/n.”

The stern nature of his tone lures your eyes to his once more. “What?” You ask, confused.

“I haven’t spent months goin’ crazy listening to you use my name only to have you call me Bucky when I’m finally between your legs.”

The throb of your pussy spurs you on and you tilt your head teasingly. “Touch me, James.” You say, and he obeys.

Bucky glides his hands up to your hips and drags your panties lower and lower, his lips chasing the lace till there’s no where left to kiss but your slick folds.

He hovers over your heat with bated breath before forcing himself to close his eyes and ask if you’re still okay with this.

“More than okay, James.” You answer truthfully.

“Good, cause I’m fucking starvin’.”

You feel his mouth on your pussy before you’ve even processed his words, tongue delving between your folds like he really is starving and you didn’t just feed him the best dinner he’s had in years. Though something tells him that title is about to be beaten the second you cum all over his face.

Your mouth curves into an ‘o’, the most pornographic of moans escaping you at the sinful sounds of Bucky’s mouth on your cunt. Drowning in increasingly intense waves of pleasure, your senses are dialled up to the max; with every flick of his tongue and suck on your clit, you find yourself falling deeper in your arousal. It becomes impossible to listen to anything Bucky’s telling you.

“Y’taste so sweet, doll.”

“Doing so good for me, aren’t ya? My good girl.”

“Let me hear you, doll, need to hear how good you feel.”

Whether it’s praises or orders, there’s no chance in hell of you understanding a word that falls from his lips, though Bucky doesn’t mind. The clench of your soft thighs around his head tells him all he needs to know - that even if your heads not fulling comprehending him, your body is. And the sheer amount of slick glistening across your cunt is enough for him to know that you’re ready for more.

The sensation of Bucky’s finger tracing along your pussy lips sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your hips lifting off the stool.

“James- oh fuck-“

Words die on your tongue when Bucky eases a finger inside you. White hot pleasure builds at your core, burning the last remnants of your self control, its embers coaxing a near-scream out of you.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweets. That’s- shit you’re so tight, pussy’s squeezing me and it’s just one finger.”

You mewl and squirm beneath him.

“How you gonna handle two of ‘em, doll?”

Bucky’s mesmerised at the sight of his finger gliding in and out of you, drenched in your sweet juices, too beautiful of a sight for him to give up by eating you out. But when you groan at the suggestion of two fingers, he drags his gaze upwards and is greeted with a view that’s evening better.

You, draped against the piano, head tilted back and brows drawn together while uneven sighs tumble from your swollen lips. God, you look heavenly, Bucky thinks. He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud, but it makes little difference seeing as you’re rather preoccupied with the thought of Bucky fucking another finger inside you.

“James?” You call, reaching down to cover your left hand around the one at your sex, the other tugging on his hair.

“Yeah? Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?” He panics, thinking you’ve grabbed his hand to stop him.

Instead, you look him in the eye and say “Are you gunna fuck another finger inside of me or what?”

An awe-inspired grin spreads across Bucky’s face at your question. He keeps his blue orbs on yours while he presses a kiss to your clit and pushes himself higher till he’s inches from your face.

He rests a hand against the piano, caging you in and says, “Anything for my girl.” before a second digit joins his first.

The stretch knocks the wind out of your chest but Bucky hardly gives you any time to adjust, his fingers pumping in and out of you even faster than before. His palm slaps against your bundle of nerves with every thrust, the force riding to your chest where your tits bounce in rhythm.

“So damn beautiful…” The firefighter says.

You look up at him through your lashes and pull his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. With clashing teeth, the wet slapping sounds only feeds into the moment and Bucky’s suddenly very aware of the tightness in his jeans.

With each passing second, the cord in your stomach is getting so close to snapping that your mouth isn’t even moving against Bucky’s anymore.

“Fuck, James, I’m- I-“

“Shh, I know.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You gonna cum all over my fingers, doll? Gonna let me see you fall apart?”

You nod feverishly.

“Good girl, now let go for me.”

That’s all it takes for the damn to break loose and the fiercest orgasm of your life to rack through your body. It reaches every part of you, all the cracks and crevices you never thought could be touched, yet here you are, feeling every inch of yourself set on fire.

“That’s it, doll, that’s it.” Bucky comforts you while you lay victim to the aftershocks of his work, slowing the thrust of his fingers till your breathing evens and he moves to gently circling your sensitive clit.

“Holy shit…” You sigh, a satisfied and totally fucked-out grin playing across your lips.

Noticing how your hazy your eyes still are, Bucky smiles to himself while pressing loving kisses on your forehead.

“You did real good for me, sweetheart.” He listens to you hum beneath him as he moves to kiss your temple. “Y’look so pretty when you cum, you know that? Even prettier than I imagined.”

You twist in your seat to face your neighbour. “You’ve imagined this too?”

“Every night, doll.”

“Huh…”

Though Bucky’s eyes remain fixed on yours, it’s obvious that his mind has slipped away; he’s now clouded by memories of his x-rated dreams, ones that have ended with him pumping his embarrassingly hard length into his fist one too many times, and his cock twitches in his ever-tightening pants. You notice the movement at his crotch and, emboldened by his confession and the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you decide to take back some control.

“What have you pictured doing to me, James?” Your tone is so sweet, so innocent, that it takes a moment for your words to register in his brain. But when it does, boy, does a fresh wave of blood rush to his cock.

“You sure you wanna know? Cuz it ain’t all sweet and innocent.” He warns.

You say nothing and let your actions do all the talking; you slide a hand down to meet his left, the one still nestled between your sticky thighs, and tug it away from your cunt. With your eyes locked on his, you raise Bucky’s cum coated fingers to your mouth, slowly wrapping your lips around them and sucking your sweetness away. Making sure to give the firefighter a show, you swirl your tongue around his fingers before taking them as deep as you can, a knowing look in your eyes when you notice Bucky clenching his jaw.

After releasing his fingers from your swollen red lips, you press a kiss to the palm of his hand. “Tell me.”

What you can only describe as a growl rises from the back of Bucky’s throat and before you know it, you’re being carried to your bedroom, legs bound tightly around his waist while your arms wrap loosely around his neck.

He sits down on the edge of the bed; hands resting on your hips and edging lower to your ass, his fingers grip the supple flesh to keep you in place.

His force on your hips is pushing you down on his ample bulge, sparking a flash of pleasure straight up your spine that escapes you with a moan. Bucky chuckles softly with a sinful grin as you tilt your head back at the feeling.

“You wanna know what I’ve imagined us doing, doll?” The firefighter grabs your chin to bring your attention back to him. He runs the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, tugging on it and letting it bounce back into place.

“I’ve pictured us just like this.” He drops his hand to your neck, tracing the curve of your collar bone till it meets the strap of your sundress. “You, naked and beautiful as ever, riding my cock like I know you can.”

You gasp lightly when he tugs your strap till it’s tumbling off your shoulder.

“And you’re telling me just how full you are, how stretched your little pussy is around me, choking my cock like a damn vice.”

Bucky’s filthy words send your hips into motion without warning; you grind your bare cunt over his crotch, the tent in his pants settling between your slick folds till his shaft is enveloped with your warmth.

“Does that sound good, doll? To have my cock buried inside you when you bounce on it? Fuck, I bet your cunt is dripping for me again,”

“It never stopped, James.” You whimper, your sensitive clit sending jolts up your frame as Bucky guides your hips over his.

“That’s right, you’re never gonna use anything else to cum ever again. You got me now, doll. I’m all you need. Me, my cock, I’m gonna ruin everyone else for you.”

You don’t even notice that Bucky’s hands are on the zip at your back, slowly pulling it down till the fabric are your chest goes slack, and with the straps already draped over your shoulders, the flowing material cascades around you, tumbling to your hips and leaving you defenseless to Bucky’s insatiable blue eyes.

“Fuck me, sweets, you’re- god- you’re perfect.” He leans in and kisses your collarbone. “So,” kiss, “So,” kiss, “perfect.”

Your eyes flutter shut, lost in the feeling of his touch, and Bucky smirks when he sees you. He teases a hand up your soft skin till it sits just beneath your tit, daring to reach up and play with you in the ways he’s always dreamt of.

“Is this okay?” He asks, earning an even more passionate grind of your hips as you push your chest closer to his open mouth.

He chuckles, “Needy, aren’t ya, sweets?”

You whine.

“Hmm, lucky for you, this is exactly what I imagined doing to you, what I’ve dreamt of for months…”

His lips wrap around your hardened nipple with haste, the warmth of his mouth a welcome sensation. He sucks at the sensitive nub, this tongue reaching out to soothe you afterwards. You throw your head back and moan loudly.

The sound of bucky loudly licking and sucking on your tits is driving you crazy, to the point where your hips are stuttering over his, practically drowning in the feeling till you have no control over your movements.

“God, I love your tits. Wanna act out every dream I’ve ever had of you. Fucking your tits, your throat, your cunt, anywhere you’ll let me, doll, please. I’ve needed you for so long.”

You blush at the word love, surpressing the hope that is stirring at the possibility that your tits aren’t the only thing he loves. Has he really wanted this as long as me? You wonder, picturing everything he just revealed he’s been wanting.

“M’So fuckin’ hard for you sweetheart, I know you can feel me. Dick’s throbbing, doll, it’s s’hard it hurts.”

You pull at his hair so he’s looking up at you again and capture his lips in yours.

“I wanna see you, Bucky…”

He groans and reaches for the hem of his shirt which he waists no time in tearing off. Your chest rises and falls heavier than before, eyes raking his physique just like you had that night he was leaving the shower at his place.

You trail a finger down his abs till it brushes the button of his jeans teasingly.

“All of you, James.” You look pointedly at his crotch. “May I?” You ask and when he nods, you climb off his lap and sink between his legs on the floor, you dress tumbling to the ground immediately.

Bucky’s abs tense as you work to undo the button, your hands tiny in comparison to his body. Next, you work the zipper up and over the bulge of his cock, the teeth desperate to come apart after being so constricted for so long. The two sides of denim snap away from the tent of his boxers, perfectly presenting where the firefighter so badly needs your touch.

He helps you kick off his jeans till the only thing between you is his boxers. You trace a finger up and down his shaft through the cotton, enjoying the sticky patch of pre cum leaking through the top.

“Have you ever imagined me sucking your cock, James?” You ask with half lidded eyes before kissing his covered shaft. “Cause I have.”

Bucky whimpers - whimpers - at your words, his hips snapping up to your face uncontrollably.

You begin to drag down his boxers, trailing kisses down down down, your lips greeting his tip when his cock flicks up against them before your eyes even get chance to glance at him.

Your eyes flutter shut at the salty taste on your lips, revelling in the breathy moans from your neighbour.

“Fuck- pl-please honey, I need your- argh- mouth around me!”

You make eye contact with him from your place on the floor and ask if he’s sure.

“More than anything.”

And with that, you take his thick length into your mouth, lips sealing around his angry pink cock head briefly when your trace your tongue over his slit, before gliding lower down his cock.

You take as much of him as you can, but you need time to warm up having never taken a cock as large as his before.

“You’re so big, baby.” You say as you pull off his shaft with a pop, “Biggest I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

A frustrated groan arises from the firefighter and you feel his hand on the back of your head, gently pushing you to his dick once more.

“Suck my cock, doll, just like we’ve both imagined, nice and deep, please.”

You take the base of his cock in your hands and guide his tip back to your lips.

“Atta girl,” Bucky encourages as you take him deeper and deeper.

He feels you relaxing your throat to take more of him and his balls clench at the feeling.

“Argh fuck, fuck, fuck. Good girl, oh my god, yes!”

His praises and curses cheer you on and you manage as much of him as you can, only an inch or so remaining that’s simply too thick to fit in your mouth. Lord knows how he’ll fit in your pussy, but you’re sure he’ll figure it out.

You bob your head on his length over and over till you’re in desperate need of air. You let your hands work your spit and his precum up and down his hard cock while you catch your breath and watch his beautiful face contort into one of extreme pleasure.

Your chest fills with pride at Bucky’s facial expressions; making him feel good is somehow more rewarding than anything you’ve done in your life and you find yourself content at the thought of spending the rest of your days pleasing him.

Bucky is oblivious to the gratified smile toying your lips and wholly unprepared for your next movement.

“Oh god- oh fuck, doll-” He groans, his breathing staggered and eyes clenched shut when you take his balls in your mouth, the skin sloppily wet from your work on his cock, and now enjoying the warmth of your mouth.

“Oh honey, do that again, felt so go- argh!” He’s interrupted by you tending to his sack once more, your tongue swirling around them and lightly sucking.

You moan around his pretty, swollen balls, the vibrations drawing a sigh of pleasure from your neighbour. The trimmed hair at the base of Bucky’s member is tickling your nose while you fight to taste every part of him.

With a final sharp suck, you release his balls with a small plop, plant a wet kiss on each and flatten you tongue to lick a bold stripe up his length. The tip of your muscle presses into the vein on the underside of his dick and Bucky thrusts upward, his hips bucking as he desperately searches for more.

As you ready yourself to glide his cock down your throat once more, you feel Bucky’s hand on your cheek, pulling you off him.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” You ask with a concerned frown, nervous that you’ve done something wrong to have Bucky stopping you. You wrap your hand around his forearm, the one outstretched to hold your hair, while the other remains enclosed around his cock.

“Nothin’ bad, sweets, it’s just that- fuck-“

You absentmindedly stroke your thumb over his girth, a motion you intend to be comforting but in reality, it just makes him throb even harder in your hands.

“-I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep using your pretty mouth like that.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

He laughs lightly and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Cause as hot as you’d look swallowing my load, I’d much rather cum inside that sweet pussy for our first time.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth before pecking a doting kiss to his forearm and letting Bucky pull you to your feet. His eyes follow yours till he’s looking up at you from his seated position, his hands falling to your hips with an awestruck face.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” His voice is barely above a whisper. You blush crimson.

“Get on the bed, doll.” He orders. “Lay on your back.”

You do as he says and once you’ve settled, he crawls on top of you. It’s quiet for a moment as Bucky stares lovingly down at you, burning the image into his memory to remind him he has everything he needs.

“I should have found the guts to do this months ago…” You murmur, pushing the fallen tendrils of chestnut hair behind his ear. He looks so goddamn perfect; the golden glow filtering through your window catching every feature you’ve spent so long dreaming about, and now he’s here, really here, and you can’t help but stroke his cheek with revere.

“We have now, doll. That’s enough for me.” Bucky whispers. “Are you comfortable?”

You nod, truthfully, both in terms of your position but also for what’s coming. But then his elbows bend out and he’s lowering himself onto you.

“How about now?”

There’s a gleam in his eye and a playful smirk on his lips as he watches your chest heave, your body taking more of his weight now.

“No!” You giggle.

“No? Is this better?” Bucky teases, briefly laying his whole weight over you until you paw at his shoulders to push him off.

“James! You’re squishing me!”

The melody of your carefree laughter has Bucky melting and he pushes himself up onto his hands once more. His lip is tucked between his teeth, enjoying the view as he becomes increasingly aware of his cock now just one slip away from your pussy lips.

Quickly coming to your own awareness of Bucky’s rock hard length pressing into you, you sober up.

“Darling?” You tug on his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb.

Bucky’s brows pinch closer slightly.

“I need you inside me.”

His soft lips are crashing against yours within moments, his hand fighting between the nonexistent space between your bare bodies to grasp his cock and guide his tip to your bundle of nerves.

The sudden taste of how good Bucky can make you feel forces a sharp breath from you. It’s so much yet not enough, all at the same time.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, okay? Let me take care of you how you deserve.”

After a meek nod with your hands finding refuge in Bucky’s soft locks, he trails his cock head down your pink folds till it catches on the dip of your entrance.

Bucky tempts a whimper from you as he slides inside of you, your walls stretching to accommodate his larger than average member.

“Fuck, doll, you’re so tight for me.” The firefighter moans, resisting the urge to snap his hips and bottom out completely.

You’ve yet to make a sound, the sting in your pussy not yet dissipating, and when you glance down at where your bodies meet, you realise you’re barely taking half of him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky’s reassuring voice is ghosting over your ear, “you’re taking me so well, sweets. You need me to go slower?”

You clench your eyes shut briefly, “No, keep going, you’re just so…”

“So what?”

Bucky watches a deep red creep up your neck before returning his gaze to your eyes, that now dance across the room avoiding him.

A gentle grasp on your chin draws you to face the breathtaking man above you and you clench around his dick.

“What happened to the little minx who was practically beggin’ me to fuck her, huh? Don’t get all shy on me now, dollface. I’m so what?”

His words have you spilling yours without second thought. “You’re so fucking thick, James, cock’s splittin’ me in half.”

He groans and snaps his hips fully into yours, making you scream out, “Jamie!!!”

His scalp burns when you pull on his hair harder than before, your moans filling the room like a broken record. Bucky should be focused on the furrow of your brow, your laboured breaths, the way your cunt is choking him, anything about how perfect this feels, but all he can focus on is how with one thrust, you called him ‘Jamie’. And you didn’t just say it, you screamed it.

“Shit, honey, say it again.”

“Ja-Jamie…” You whine and feel Bucky draw his hips back before pounding into you once more.

“Again.” Your neighbour growls.

“Oh my god, fuck- I”

“Again.”

It takes everything you have to open your eyes and look at him. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

“That’s my girl.”

Bucky drives his length into you till his tip is hitting your cervix, the pleasure wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air out of you. You fight to breathe as Bucky drills into you, over and over, softly grunting with every thrust.

“Never felt anything as good as your cunt before, doll. Wanna spend the rest of my life buried inside you.”

You pull his lips to yours and, back arching from the mattress, dive your tongue into his mouth with vigour. He lets you explore his mouth while fucking you deep and fast, the headboard of your bed slamming against the wall and probably driving your neighbour crazy. Oh wait, he is your neighbour, and it is driving him crazy, but in the best way imaginable.

“So goddamn tight, sweets, y’pussy was made for me,” He swallows your whimpers happily, “don’t you think? You feel how good i’m filling you up, honey? Sliding in an’ out so easy, you’re so fucking wet for my dick.”

“Harder, Jamie.”

Goddamn.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll do whatever you want.”

You lose yourself in his thrusts; the sting has long turned into the most pleasure you’ve ever felt, and that’s saying something after the orgasm he lulled from you only a few minutes ago.

“Fuckin’ me s-so good, Jamie.”

“Ah- just like that, baby.”

“I’m getting close, James, need you to go faster.”

Your pleas send Bucky’s cock pulsing and he does exactly as you wish. He fucks you faster, fighting off the desperate urge to cum inside your sweet cunt.

“Jamie…” You sigh.

He grins up at you from his place at your tits, his tongue reaching out to tease your nipples. You push his head down till he takes your sensitive bud in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue over it while he gropes its twin.

The tight coil in your stomach is twisting to its limit and you find yourself dangerously close to cumming around Bucky’s hard, thick length.

“I’m so- oh fuck- i’m so close, James.”

He lifts his head and eyes you with lust blown pupils.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll? God, I can feel you clenching around me, you wanna cream all over my cock? Huh?” He smirks at your pornographic moans. “Bet I’ll look so good covered in your cum, sweets, maybe I’ll let you clean me up, put that mouth to good use.”

“I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum,” You chant several times breathlessly.

“Let go for me, sweet girl, make a mess o’my cock. Cum, doll.”

Your body shudders as your hips grind up into Bucky’s, your walls tightening before he feels you gush around him. Practically screaming in pleasure, you bite down on Bucky’s shoulder to quiet yourself, though the pain travels straight to his member, still fucking into you with force.

“Fuck, James, you’re so perfect, never came so hard in my life- shit-“

He’s groaning into your ear, his balls slamming against you and filling the room with salacious wet slaps.

“You’re so wet and- fuck- I can’t- I can’t hold back much longer.”

You tug on the hair at the nape of his neck and lick up the side of his throat, tongue catching the salty beads of sweat in its path. Reaching his earlobe, you suck on it lightly and whisper into his ear.

“Want you to cum inside me, Jamie. Fill me up, please, I need your cum.”

“Argh, fuck!!” Your words send Bucky over the edge and his hips stutter while he finally lets go.

“Oh god, yes!” Bucky grunts. “Take my cum, doll, fuckin’ take it.”

Your tongue seeks his neck once more, pressing open mouthed kisses as his cock shoots streams of white seed into you, the spurts seemingly never ending.

“Fillin’ my cunt so much, Jamie- fuck- you feel so good!”

As his cock softens, his thrusts slow to a more bearable pace, both of you so sensitive from your orgasms. Catching your breath takes a minute or two, but in the meantime, you coax satisfied sighs from your firefighter by running your hands up and down his back; the light sheen of sweat greets your fingertips as you touch him tenderly.

With no words being shared, you focus solely on Bucky’s breathing, the rise and fall of his back beneath your hands and the weight of his body on yours. It should be uncomfortable, but you’ve never felt so at home in a place, let alone with a person, in your life.

“That was…” Bucky murmurs into your neck.

You finish his sentence, “Pretty damn good.” Laughter ripples through the muscles of his back.

“Yeah,” He agrees and pulls back slightly to look at you, “you feeling okay?”

“If by okay you mean ‘completely and utterly fucked out’ then yeah, I’m great.”

You grin cheekily before pushing his hair behind his ear yet again, an act you find yourself praying that you’ll get to do for the rest of your life.

“How are you feeling?” You ask sincerely.

Those blue orbs flick between your own, laced with an emotion you hope to be love. “Like I want to be with you like this forever.” Bucky admits. “That and completely and utterly fucked out.”

You laugh heartily, bringing a beaming smile to Bucky’s swollen red lips.

“Let me clean you up, doll.” He offers before pushing himself off you, much to your dismay. He disappears to your bathroom for a minute before returning with a damp cloth in hand.

“Can you spread your legs for me, sweets?”

He bites a chuckle at how quickly you obey him and gets to work, wiping away your shared cum from your pussy and goosebump-ridden thighs. The towel is warm and soft on your skin, lulling you to sleep, though you fight to keep your eyes on your neighbour.

“You’re so beautiful, James.” You say, reaching to place your hand on his that sits beside you hip, where he’s leaning his weight.

He smiles sheepishly and focuses on the job at hand. Once you’re clean, Bucky carries you to the bathroom so you can do your business, waiting patiently outside after putting his boxers back on and grabbing his henley for you to wear.

When you step out of the bathroom, Bucky’s holding his he let out in front of you. “You looked a bit cold so I thought you might want a shirt?”

You smile, “Your shirt?”

“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck, muscles flexing at the movement, “You don’t have to, I just thou-“

He stops talking when you pull the henley from his grasp and tug it over your head. It swallows you whole and the sleeves tumble past your hands, but Bucky thinks it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

Grabbing his hand, you pull him back to your room and back into bed, tugging the sheets over you both where you nestle into his chest.

“You’re staying, right?” You ask with the most puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

“Of course, doll.”

Smiling to yourself, you curl up against the firefighter. “Woulda cooked you a meal months ago if I knew that’s all it took for you to finally fuck me.”

a/n: filth. pure filth. so sorry that it took me a lifetime to post this - life got lifey and it took me ages to get this right. it’s my second time writing any sort of smut so i hope it was good for y’all. thanks for all the support, it means the world to me. love you guys, red ❤️

comment if you’d like to be added to the ashes to embers taglist 🧡

taglist: @armystay89 @rabbitrabbit12321 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @harrystylesandthegoobs @zannemes @noonespecial90 @m3ntally-unstable @blackbirdwitch22 @wintrsoldrluvr @pingpongfingfong @belleofthebooks @larienjenova @chaosbarelycontained @mostlymarvelgirl @trustworthy-jellyfish @ozwriterchick @nervousnerdwitch @suz7days @bethexo07 @ace-27749 @bellabarnes1378 @angelbabyyy99 @selella @itvy5601 @noonespecial90 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @ordelixx @krispybearbouquet @matchat3a @cl7ire @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @julvrs @anghstybean @eah-marvel-trolls @pono-pura-vida @touchstarvedforbuckybarnes

[aceyalonso]

touch me, please - CHARLES LECLERC

pairing : charles leclerc x best friend!reader kinktober day 12 - mutual masturbation

summary : who knew that watching 50 shades of grey with your best friend could end so well?

warnings/notes : swearing, smut, mutual masturbation, talks about sexual fantasies, brief mention of sex toys, edging, dry humping, fingering, handjob, implied oral (I was too lazy to write it)

word count : 4.8k

a/n : this is more on plot than the actual smut | yeah i dont rlly like this one

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist

8:16 PM

Y/n and Charles lounged on the plush couch in Charles' luxurious Monaco apartment, having spent the entire day watching movies. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, they decided to watch one last film before calling it a night.

Charles scrolled through the options on his large flat-screen TV, his finger hovering over the title "50 Shades of Grey." He glanced over at Y/n with a mischievous grin. "What do you say we watch this one? I hear it's quite... stimulating."

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, so you want to corrupt me with some softcore porn, is that it?" Despite her teasing tone, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the prospect.

Charles chuckled, pressing play on the remote. "Come on, it'll be fun. And who knows, maybe we'll learn a thing or two."

As the movie progressed, the scenes grew increasingly intimate and explicit. Y/n found herself transfixed by the erotic displays on screen, her heart racing as Christian Grey dominated Anastasia Steele. When the scene shifted to Christian spanking Ana, Y/n felt a rush of heat between her legs.

Almost unconsciously, her hand drifted beneath the blanket, fingers grazing over the fabric of her pajama shorts. She bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan as she rubbed herself through the thin material. Beside her, Charles remained oblivious, his eyes glued to the television.

Y/n's breath hitched as she realized what she was doing, her hand stilling beneath the blanket. A wave of embarrassment washed over her, and she quickly withdrew her hand, hoping Charles hadn't noticed. She glanced over at him, but he seemed completely engrossed in the movie, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Trying to regain her composure, Y/n shifted slightly on the couch, crossing her legs tightly. She could still feel the heat pulsing between her thighs, a reminder of the desire that had momentarily overtaken her. As the scene on screen grew even more intense, Y/n found it increasingly difficult to ignore the ache building inside her.

She risked another glance at Charles, wondering if he had any idea of the effect the movie was having on her. But he remained focused on the unfolding drama, seemingly unaware of Y/n's inner turmoil.

The movie's erotic scenes continued to unfold, each one more tantalizing than the last. Y/n found herself squirming on the couch, her body reacting to the sensual displays despite her best efforts to remain composed. She could feel the dampness growing between her legs, her arousal becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

Y/n's gaze darted around the room, desperately seeking a distraction from the throbbing need that consumed her. She considered excusing herself early, retreating to the privacy of her bedroom to relieve the tension that coiled within her. But the thought of leaving Charles alone, of admitting the effect the movie was having on her, filled her with a sense of shame.

As another steamy scene played out on screen, Y/n bit her lip hard, trying to stifle the whimper that threatened to escape. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she fought to maintain control. She silently prayed for the movie to end, for the sweet relief of darkness and solitude, where she could finally give in to the desires that raged within her.

As the final credits rolled across the screen, Charles turned to Y/n with a knowing smirk. "You were awfully quiet during that one. Did it not live up to your expectations?"

Y/n swallowed hard, her face flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and lingering arousal. She forced a laugh, trying to play off her unusual silence. "Oh, you know me, just lost in thought. The movie was fine, I guess."

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying her excuse. "Right. Well, I'm going to head to bed. Try not to stay up too late thinking about Christian Grey." With a wink and a chuckle, he stood up from the couch and made his way toward his bedroom, leaving Y/n alone with her racing thoughts and throbbing need.

10:47 PM

Hours passed as Y/n remained locked away in her room, desperate to find release from the overwhelming arousal that consumed her. She had tried everything - her fingers, her vibrator, even her pillow pressed tightly against her aching cunt. But no matter how hard she tried, the elusive orgasm remained just out of reach.

Frustration mounted as Y/n tossed and turned on her bed, her skin slick with sweat and her body trembling with need. She couldn't understand why she couldn't climax, why her body refused to succumb to the pleasure she so desperately craved. It was as if her mind was holding her back, preventing her from fully letting go.

As the night wore on, Y/n's desperation grew, her cries of frustration echoing off the walls of her bedroom. She knew she should give up, that chasing the orgasm would only leave her more frustrated in the end. But the ache between her legs was too intense to ignore, driving her to continue her futile efforts long into the night.

Finally, after countless failed attempts to find release, Y/n decided to give up. She dragged herself out of bed, her body still thrumming with unfulfilled desire, and made her way to the bathroom. Perhaps a cold shower would help clear her mind and ease the ache that pulsed between her legs.

As she stepped under the spray, Y/n let out a shuddering sigh, the cool water cascading over her flushed skin. She leaned against the tiled wall, her head falling back as she closed her eyes. For a moment, she allowed herself to simply exist in the sensation, the water sluicing over her curves and washing away the sweat and frustration of the night.

But even as she tried to relax, Y/n couldn't shake the lingering need that still simmered within her. Her hands roamed over her slick body, tracing the contours of her breasts and the dip of her waist. She knew she shouldn't touch herself again, that it would only lead to more disappointment. But the temptation was too great to resist, and soon her fingers were delving between her legs once more, seeking the release that had eluded her for so long.

While her fingers worked between her legs, her mind began to wander, conjuring up vivid images of the erotic scenes she had witnessed on screen. At first, she imagined herself in Anastasia's place, bent over Christian Grey's lap as he delivered firm, stinging spanks to her bare bottom. The fantasy sent a shiver of excitement down her spine, and she increased the pace of her strokes, chasing the release that had eluded her for so long.

But then, almost without her conscious control, Y/n's thoughts shifted, and it was Charles' face that filled her mind's eye. She pictured herself over his lap, her shorts pulled down as he brought his hand down on her upturned ass. The thought of her best friend spanking her, dominating her in such an intimate way, caused a fresh wave of arousal to crash over her, and she let out a soft moan.

The forbidden thoughts of Charles continued to flood Y/n's mind, and she found herself edging closer and closer to the brink of orgasm. Her fingers moved faster, delving deeper into her slick folds as she imagined the feeling of his strong hands gripping her hips, holding her in place as he punished her for her naughty behavior.

But even as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable intensity, Y/n couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at her conscience. These were her best friend, her confidant, the one person she trusted above all others. How could she harbor such explicit fantasies about him? The shame of her desires warred with the all-consuming need that throbbed between her legs, leaving her teetering on the edge of release.

Just as Y/n teetered on the brink of orgasm, her conscience caught up with her, and the guilt she had been suppressing came crashing down. She snatched her hand away from her aching core, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to compose herself.

"What am I doing?" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and self-loathing. "He's my best friend, and I'm fantasizing about him spanking me like some kind of pervert."

Y/n sank to the floor of the shower, her back pressed against the cool tiles as she tried to calm her racing heart. She knew she needed to get a grip on herself, to push these inappropriate thoughts from her mind, and to focus on the friendship she valued so deeply. But even as she tried to rationalize her feelings, Y/n couldn't deny the lingering ache between her legs.

Y/n quickly finished her shower, lathering up her body with soap and rinsing away the evidence of her shameful desires. She stepped out of the stall, wrapping a fluffy towel around her still-tingling form. With a sigh, she padded over to her dresser and pulled out her usual pajamas - a tank top and a pair of tiny shorts that hugged her curves.

As she slipped into the revealing clothing, Y/n couldn't help but wonder if Charles would approve. Would he find her attractive in these barely-there garments, or would he be disgusted by her blatant display of skin? The thought sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her body, and she had to resist the urge to touch herself once more.

Y/n laid back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling fan as it lazily circled above her. The cool air from the spinning blades caressed her skin, doing little to quell the heat that still simmered beneath her surface. Her mind raced with thoughts of Charles, of the forbidden desires that had consumed her during her failed attempts at self-pleasure.

She knew she should try to sleep, to put an end to this torturous night of frustration and guilt. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face, heard his voice, and felt the ghost of his touch on her skin. Y/n rolled onto her side, hugging her pillow tightly to her chest as she tried to banish the intrusive thoughts. But even as she drifted off into a fitful slumber, her dreams were haunted by visions of her best friend, and the shameful things she longed for him to do to her.

1:29 AM

Around 1:30 AM, Y/n finally gave up on the prospect of sleep. She tossed and turned restlessly, her mind and body still thrumming with the aftershocks of her earlier arousal. With a frustrated groan, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.

Padding out of her room and down the hallway, Y/n made her way to the kitchen. She filled a glass with cool water from the tap, bringing it to her lips and taking a long, deep drink. The refreshing liquid soothed her parched throat and helped to clear her foggy mind.

As she leaned against the counter, sipping her water, Y/n's thoughts once again drifted to Charles. She couldn't seem to escape the memories of their movie night, of the way her body had reacted to the erotic scenes on screen. The ache between her legs had subsided, but the guilt and confusion still lingered, weighing heavily on her heart.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her hand poised to knock on Charles' bedroom door. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to come to him in the middle of the night, but something deep inside urged her to seek his comfort, his guidance.

After five seconds of silence, Y/n began to turn away, her footsteps soft on the carpet as she started to make her way back to her own room. But just as she was about to round the corner, she heard Charles' voice calling out to her. "Y/n? Is everything okay?"

Y/n froze, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to gather her thoughts. She knew she should just pretend she had made a mistake, that she had been sleepwalking or something. But the words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.

Y/n turned back to face Charles, an awkward expression on her face. "Hey, um... I know this is kind of weird, but is it okay if I stay in your room for a little while? I think there might be a cockroach in mine."

She cringed internally at the lie, knowing full well that Charles had just had the entire apartment deep cleaned earlier in the week. There was no way there could be any bugs lurking in her room. But Y/n couldn't bring herself to admit the real reason for her late-night visit - the confusing mix of desire and guilt that had driven her to seek out her best friend's company.

Charles raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "A cockroach, huh? In the middle of the night?" He leaned against the doorframe, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. "You know, I think I might have seen a few of those little critters scurrying around in your room earlier. Must be a new species - the ones that only come out at 1:30 AM."

Y/n shook her head, a sheepish smile on her face as she realized how ridiculous her excuse sounded. "Never mind, forget I said anything. I'm just being silly." She turned to leave, her emotions still in turmoil from the events of the evening.

Charles felt a pang of guilt as he watched Y/n turn to leave, her shoulders slumped in defeat. He called out to her, his voice softening. "Hey, wait a second. I was just joking around. Of course, you can stay, if you really want to."

She paused, glancing back over her shoulder at Charles. She bit her lip, considering his offer. The thought of being in such close proximity to him, especially after the forbidden fantasies that had consumed her earlier, sent a shiver down her spine. But at the same time, she craved his comfort, his reassurance that everything would be okay.

Y/n walked past Charles and into his room, immediately slumping down onto his bed. She let out a heavy sigh, her body sagging against the mattress as she tried to process the whirlwind of emotions that swirled within her.

Charles followed her into the room, closing the door softly behind him. He could see the tension in Y/n's posture, the way her brow furrowed as she stared blankly ahead. "Wow, okay. Something is really bothering you, isn't it?" he asked gently, moving to sit beside her on the bed.

Y/n nodded, her face buried in the sheets as she tried to hide the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to look at Charles, to see the concern etched on his handsome features. The guilt and shame that had plagued her all night surged to the surface, threatening to overwhelm her.

He placed a comforting hand on Y/n's back, rubbing gentle circles as he waited for her to speak. He knew her well enough to recognize when something was truly troubling her, and he wanted nothing more than to ease her pain. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured softly. "Whatever it is, we can talk about it. I'm here for you, always."

She took a deep, shuddering breath, finally lifting her head to meet Charles' gaze. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears, her lower lip trembling slightly as she spoke. "It's just... it's such a silly reason to be feeling this way," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

He frowned, his brows knitting together in concern as he tried to decipher her words. "Silly? Y/n, there's no such thing as a silly reason for feeling upset. Whatever it is, it's important to you, and that means it's important to me too." He reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Y/n stayed quiet for a long moment, her gaze dropping to her lap as she fidgeted with the hem of her tank top. Finally, she looked up at Charles, her eyes wide and pleading. "Promise you won't laugh, okay? This is... this is really embarrassing for me to admit."

Charles' expression softened, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I would never laugh at you, Y/n. You know that, right? Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here to listen, not to judge." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin.

Y/n took a deep breath, steeling herself for the confession that burned in her throat. "I... I was so quiet during the movie because I felt... I felt so horny," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't stop thinking about the things they were doing, about how much I wanted to do those things too."

Y/n's cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she continued, her voice trembling with a mixture of embarrassment and desperation. "After the movie, I went to my room and tried so hard to... to cum. I used my vibrator and everything, but nothing seemed to work. It was like my body just wouldn't cooperate, no matter how badly I wanted it."

As Y/n's confession spilled from her lips, Charles listened intently, his eyes widening slightly as he processed her words. He could hear the desperation in her voice, the needy, whiny tone that sent a shiver of arousal down his spine. Despite his best efforts to remain objective, he couldn't help but feel a stirring of desire at the thought of his best friend in such a state of wanton need.

"I... I thought of you," Y/n admitted shyly, her gaze dropping to the floor as she fidgeted with the hem of her tank top. "And it almost made me cum, but then I felt so guilty because we're just friends, and I shouldn't be thinking about you like that."

Charles swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to process the weight of Y/n's confession. He knew he should be shocked, maybe even disgusted by the thought of his best friend harboring such forbidden desires. But instead, he felt a surge of heat pooling in his lower belly, a primal hunger that threatened to consume him whole.

"Y/n..." he breathed, his voice low and husky as he reached out to cup her cheek with his hand. "Listen to me. There's nothing wrong with feeling the way you do. Desire is a natural thing, and it's okay to want someone you care about." His thumb brushed lightly over her bottom lip, his eyes darkening with a mixture of tenderness and lust.

She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes as she pulled away from Charles' touch. "No, it just feels wrong. We grew up together, we're best friends. I shouldn't be thinking about you like this, shouldn't be wanting you the way I do." Her voice cracked, the weight of her guilt and confusion evident in every word.

Charles took a deep breath, his eyes locking with Y/n's as he spoke. "Listen to me, Y/n. I... I've thought about you before. I've touched myself thinking about you, imagining how good you would feel around me, how pretty you would sound moaning my name." The words hung heavy in the air between them, the silence stretching out for a long moment.

Y/n's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she processed Charles' confession. She had never dared to dream that he might feel the same way, that he might have harbored these forbidden desires just as she had. Slowly, hesitantly, she leaned in closer, her gaze never leaving his.

Their lips met in a kiss, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through Y/n's body. She melted into Charles' embrace, her hands coming up to rest on his chest as she deepened the kiss. All the guilt, the shame, the confusion that had plagued her for so long seemed to fade away, replaced by a burning need that consumed her very being.

As the kiss deepened, Y/n felt a surge of desire coursing through her veins. She pressed herself closer to Charles, her body molding to his as they explored each other's mouths with increasing fervor. The thin fabric of her shorts did little to conceal the heat that radiated from her core, and she could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against her through his pajama pants.

Lost in the haze of passion, Y/n began to grind her hips against Charles', the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her body. She moaned softly into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair as she lost herself in the sensation of their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

Charles broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he gazed down at Y/n with hooded eyes. In one swift motion, he flipped their positions, pinning her beneath him on the bed. His hands roamed over her body, slipping beneath the hem of her tank top to caress the smooth skin beneath.

With deft fingers, he tugged at the waistband of her shorts, sliding them down her legs along with her cotton panties that suited her perfectly. Y/n lifted her hips to assist him, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of desire and anticipation. As Charles tossed the garments aside, he took a moment to admire the sight of her naked form spread out before him, her skin glowing in the soft light of the room.

Charles hurriedly stripped off his own pajamas, revealing his toned, muscular body. He settled himself between Y/n's thighs, his hardness pressing against her slick folds. "Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice low and husky with desire. "I want to watch you pleasure yourself, Y/n."

Y/n's hands trembled slightly as she reached down, her fingers grazing over her sensitive clit. She let out a soft moan, her hips bucking involuntarily at the contact. Slowly, she began to circle her clit with her fingertip, her other hand reaching up to tweak and pinch at her hardened nipples.

Charles' words sent a shiver down Y/n's spine, his commanding tone igniting a fire within her that burned hotter than ever before. "Show me how you like it," he growled, his eyes dark with lust as he watched her every move. "I want to see you squirm."

Emboldened by his encouragement, Y/n increased the pace of her ministrations, her fingers moving in a frenzied dance over her most sensitive spots. She arched her back, pushing her breasts up towards the ceiling as she pinched and tugged at her nipples, the pleasure mingling with a delicious hint of pain.

Her hips rocked against her hand, seeking more friction, more pressure. She could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs, her arousal growing with each passing second. Y/n's moans grew louder, more desperate, as she chased the release that had eluded her for so long.

Charles watched with rapt attention as Y/n brought herself closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. His own hand moved slowly over his throbbing erection, his eyes never leaving her face as he drank in every gasp and moan that fell from her lips.

Just as Y/n teetered on the brink of orgasm, Charles spoke up, his voice low and authoritative. "Sorry baby, I'm the only one that's allowed to make you cum tonight, okay?" His words sent a jolt of excitement through Y/n's body, her movements faltering as she processed his command.

Y/n whimpered, her hips stilling as she looked up at Charles with pleading eyes. "Please," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need to cum so badly. Let me finish, I'm so close."

He gently took Y/n's hand away from her dripping pussy, replacing it with his own. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as she arched her back, desperate for more friction. His left hand reached between her thighs, his fingers gliding easily through her slick folds.

Her own hand found its way to Charles' throbbing erection, her fingers wrapping around his shaft as she began to stroke him in time with the movements of his hand against her core. Their bodies moved together, their moans mingling in the heated air of the room.

As their foreheads pressed together, Y/n's moans grew louder, her body trembling with the intensity of her pleasure. Charles groaned, his own arousal reaching a fever pitch as he felt her tighten around his fingers. He could sense that she was close, her hips bucking wildly against his hand as she chased her release.

"That's it, baby," Charles encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Let go, cum for me. I want to feel you come undone." His words seemed to push Y/n over the edge, her body convulsing as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. She cried out, her inner walls clenching around Charles' fingers as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her.

As Y/n's orgasm crashed over her, her hand faltered around Charles' cock, her grip loosening as she rode out the intense waves of pleasure. But despite her momentary lapse in attention, Charles found himself teetering on the brink of his own release.

With a guttural groan, he thrust into her hand one final time, his hot seed spilling over her fingers as he came hard. Y/n watched in awe as his body shuddered, his hips jerking with each pulse of his climax. She squeezed him gently, coaxing out every last drop of his essence as they both came down from their high.

Even as the aftershocks of her own orgasm continued to ripple through her body, Y/n kept stroking Charles' cock, her hand moving in a steady rhythm as she coaxed him through the final throes of his release. She marveled at the way his flesh twitched and pulsed beneath her fingers, the heat of his spend mingling with her own slick arousal.

As Charles' breathing gradually slowed, Y/n released his softening member, bringing her hand up to her lips. She licked a stray drop of his cum from her fingers, savoring the taste of their mingled essences. A satisfied smile played at the corners of her mouth as she gazed up at Charles, her eyes shining with a mixture of adoration and contentment.

She let out a soft, breathless laugh as she gazed up at Charles, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of mischief and satisfaction. "Fuck, I should've just told you about how I was feeling while we were watching the movie," she mused, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "Maybe you could've just helped me out right there, saved me from all that frustration."

Charles chuckled, his arms tightening around Y/n's waist as he pulled her closer. "Mmm, I like the way you think," he murmured, nuzzling his nose against her neck. "Next time, just say the word, and I'll be more than happy to lend a hand... or a tongue."

He shifted his position, moving to straddle Y/n's hips as he settled his body between her thighs. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close in a tight embrace as he nuzzled his face against her neck. Y/n sighed contentedly, relishing the feeling of his warm skin against hers, the steady beat of his heart echoing in her ears.

As they lay there, basking in the afterglow of their passionate encounter, Charles nuzzled his face against Y/n's neck, his breath hot against her skin. "So…" he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "Are you up for another round?"

Y/n's eyes widened, a fresh wave of desire coursing through her veins at the thought of experiencing the same mind-blowing pleasure once more. She gazed up at Charles, a coy smile playing at the corners of her lips as she reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair. "Mmm, I think I could be persuaded," she purred, arching her back to press her body flush against his. "But only if you promise to make it even better than the first time."

Charles' eyes locked with Y/n's, a smoldering intensity burning in their depths. "Of course, baby," he murmured, his voice low and husky with promise. "I'll make sure it's even better than the first time."

With agonizing slowness, Charles began to lower himself, his lips trailing a path of fire down Y/n's body. He paused at her breasts, lavishing attention on her sensitive nipples before continuing his descent. Y/n's breath hitched as she felt his hot breath ghosting over her slick folds, her hips lifting instinctively in search of his touch.

Just as Charles' tongue made contact with Y/n's aching core, he whispered those three little words that she had been longing to hear. "I love you," he breathed, his voice muffled against her flesh.

taglist

for all posts; @nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore @nitiii

kinktober masterlist; @cloud-55 @emryb @sie17136 @jaimeleannavanlloman @wosof1 @wholetmewritethat @glitterbitch1 @under-seasoned-pasta @sinners-98-world @lewishamiltonismybf

[pepshee]

Jealousy, or Jealous Hee

⋆˙ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Pairing - ex!heeseung x fem!reader

Genre - college!au, smut, angst, exes to ??

Word Count - 3.2k

Synopsis - Heeseung was the perfect boyfriend and your first for everything romantic. When he broke up with you out of the blue and changed his entire personality you didn't know what to do. Until you saw him at a house party that is.

Warnings - cursing, drinking, angst, suggestive, mentions of jake + other idols, arguing, heeseung is a playboy, house party, creampie, oral (f rec.), p in v, mentions of smoking, lmk if i missed anything ! 18+ MDNI!

A/N - this is only my second fic ever and i didnt expect ppl to actually like the last one.. i'm adding smut this time cause i feel it's fitting. please give feedback!! this also might be a multi part fic if ppl want it... this is my first time writing smut too i hope it's good for yall😞 ive read a ton of smut fics so im using those as my references 🙏

PART TWO

Your relationship with Heeseung was going super well. Everyone said you two were soulmates, and were made for each other. You were practically glued at the hip, and did everything together including applying to the same college. You guys celebrated so much when you were both accepted. You knew you wouldn't be in the same dorm per the university guidelines, you both were still so happy.

It was everything you could ever ask for. The summer before college you two went on a long beach trip by yourselves even though neither of your parents approve, but who cares? You're adults now anyways.

The beach trip went super well and you two had lots of fun together, and lots of sex..

He helped you move into your dorm as back to school season is starting and everyone knows it's better to move into your dorm prior to starting school. You also helped him move into his dorm as well.

That was two and a half years ago though.. He broke up with you two days before the first day without an explanation..

────୨ৎ────

It's been two and a half years since the breakup and you still never got an actual reason. All you know is two days before both of your first days of your freshman year in college he texted you saying, "I wanna break up, I'm sorry, I'll miss you," that's it.

After the breakup he changed completely. He became a playboy. He started smoking, drinking alcohol, going to house parties, hooking up, and he'd skip classes sometimes. You never could've imagined he'd do this. To you he was a perfect angel, but it's like a switch flipped on him.

You're both now in your junior year of college. You both went your respective ways but you're not over it, and you don't think you ever will be. When he broke up with you, you cried all night and all day, never leaving the bed nor the dorm. Your roommate, Giselle, only having known you for a week had taken care of you and comforted you. She's now your best friend and she still hears you cry sometimes but pretends not to hear it knowing you were trying to hide it.

Heeseung broke your heart and you don't think you could ever recover even nearly three years later. What's even worse is that he became popular. You heard about his every move pretty much considering everyone was pretty much obsessed with him. It was always 'heeseung this' or 'heeseung that,' you were sick of it. Not because you hated him, hell, how could you hate someone you dated since your freshman year of high school?

You had always heard about his new girlfriends cause it was always the next big news on campus, which you never understood considering they'd only last a maximum a week. This new version of him was unlikable, at least to you, others didn't seem to care that he kept playing these girls. They somehow keep throwing themselves at him claiming they're different. They always expect to be the one to 'fix him' or the one he decides to keep but it never ends up working for them.

The more you heard about him the more it seemed like he was trying to stray far from the lover boy personality he had years ago. The truth is that you still love and miss him, you know it's far gone by now but how could you forget dating someone for five years just for him to break up with you without an explanation?

You couldn't bring yourself to confront him, text him, nor talk to him. It was like that part of your life was imaginary. You hated it, you hated that it happened like this, and most of all, you hated that you didn't know why.

────୨ৎ────

Today you and your friends had planned to go to your friend's house party. Years ago you wouldn't have imagined going to a college party, but that's because you and Heeseung were together and you would've rather hung out with him. Now that you're broken up, you figured at least the free alcohol could help. You've gone to a few parties now, but only the ones that are on weekends.

It was Friday and you only had two classes today. One that was two hours long, and one that was about an hour and a half. You get up and get dressed, wearing just a casual T-Shirt with some shorts as it was pretty warm outside. You finish getting ready, and do your makeup, curl your hair, and grab your stuff before leaving your dorm room.

Your first class was pretty boring as always. it was a literature class which honestly didn't even go with your major but you still had to take it for some reason.

Your second class was also boring, but thankfully it was shorter, even if only by 30 minutes.

Finally, you were done with classes for the day and you and your friends decided to meet up at a nearby restaurant to eat before the party because you're all likely gonna drink alcohol.

After arriving at the restaurant you wait out front for your friends to arrive. It only takes them a short while. All of you walk in to get seated and order your food and drinks.

"So did any of you see Heeseungs new girl?" Your friend Moka had asked. Your friends knew about your history with Heeseung, but they still insisted on gossiping about him for some reason. "No, who is it now?" Giselle was curious, as always, she loved to gossip.

"It's Nayeon, she's so pretty. Do you guys think he will ever settle down with someone?" Yujin responded, you stayed silent throughout the exchange which was a normal occurrence whenever Heeseung was brought up.

Finally the waiter brings all of your orders. You all start to eat and enjoy the food you had ordered. You thought they would drop the topic of Heeseung but they didn't. "Hey look at Heeseung's story!" Karina turned her phone to the rest of you. On the screen you see a photo of Heeseung, with Nayeon, but it's in the cafe you two used to go to all the time when you were together. The text on the photo reads "same place, different person," it was like he was taunting you, like he knew you would see it, like he knew you'd be affected. You tried not to let it show but he was right, it did affect you.

All the memories started flowing back of all the times you two went there, you went so much to the point the employees already knew what you both would order without having to ask. It was your favorite place to go when you had downtime, and when you could leave school in the middle of the day when you were seniors in high school. You had never imagined a life without Heeseung but now you do and it's hard.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by Giselle speaking to you. "Y/N, are you okay? You seemed out of it, and you haven't touched your food much," you nodded letting her know you're okay. "Yeah, I'm fine, sorry," you reassured everyone and went back to eating.

────୨ৎ────

The time of the party was now approaching. You all decided to facetime while getting ready. You decided to get a little scandalous with your outfit which you usually never did. You put on a black lace cropped tank top, with a denim mini skirt which was just a bit too small for you, but that's the point. You put on a pair of thigh highs, heels, do your makeup, curl your hair, and finally add some finishing touches of jewelry.

You and Giselle leave your dorm and head to the campus courtyard to meet up with the other two girls. "Oh my god, Y/N, you look so hot, you have to dress like this more often," you giggle at Karina's compliments. The four of you meet your friend Minnie who is the designated driver. She doesn't like to drink alcohol, but she still wanted to go to the party so she agreed to be the DD.

It only took about 20 minutes to get to the party, you don't know whose house it was but it was pretty large. You all enter the party, and decide to split up. You head to the kitchen immediately wanting to drink some alcohol. You see multiple empty, full, and half-full bottles of various alcohols. You don't even pay attention to whichever one you grab, you just pour it into a cup. The alcohol leaves a small burning sensation in the back of your throat. You walk towards the living room where the majority of people are, but you spot someone you weren't ready to come face to face with yet as the wound is still wide open... Heeseung..

He was with his douchey friends that he had made after he did a complete 180 with his personality. The seven boys were always causing a stir, but they were so hot you had to admit...

You hadn't realized you were staring at him, but he had.

Heeseung was talking with his friends until he had a feeling someone was staring at him. He thought it was just another girl that wanted to suck him off or something. He turned his head to find you staring his way. He didn't really know how to react really, it's been a while since he'd since you despite you two being on the same college campus. He'd only seen you from a distance really.

The truth is he did miss you, and he would purposefully post his new girls just cause he knew you would see and would get jealous. He knew it was toxic and wrong but he didn't really care. At first he had no interest in posting the girls he was with because it would only be for a short while. That was until he started to miss you, miss everything you did together, miss your lips, your smile, your laugh, everything about you. That's when he started to try and make you jealous, and as far as he can tell it's working.

As he looks back at you his lips curve into a smirk before he excuses himself from his friends, "yo, guys, I'll be right back alright?" he announced. His friends give him small smirks knowing that usually when he excuses himself at a party it's for a girl.

You only realize he was staring back at you when he starts to approach you. You internally start freaking out not knowing what to do. Before you can come up with something he's already in front of you.

"Y/N. You're dressed... quite.. sexy.." His smirk gets even larger as those words come out his mouth. "You're also quite flushed, you're already drunk aren't you?" Shit, you hadn't even realized the alcohol had kicked in.

"What do you want Heeseung," you tried to sound mad and upset but it turned out more slurred than you wanted due to the alcohol in your system.

"To talk to my sexy ex-girlfriend, is there an issue?" You hated the cockiness in his voice. You hated how he was acting like nothing happened, like it was all okay, like you didn't cry, and throw up multiple days straight.

"Don't act like nothing happened. You broke up with me out of the blue.. You fucking hurt me." Your words now finally pack the punch you wanted the whole time.

"Come on don't act like that, seriously, just talk to me and be civil Y/N," a fake pout formed on his face as if trying to earn sympathy points from you.

"Can you take shit seriously for once? Ever since we broke up you changed and I fucking hate it! You would've never acted like this two and a half years ago!" You raised your voice at him, it's not loud enough for everyone to hear but some people nearby steal glances at the two of you. "Come on you don't mean that baby," He was starting to irritate you. Does he seriously have no shame? How did he end up like this?

"God you're so irritating you know that?! You're acting like you didn't break my heart, like you didn't leave me high and dry, without a rhyme or reason," now yelling at him because his act was getting to you, how could he be so nonchalant about this?

"Calm down okay? Let's talk about this when you're not drunk, don't cause a scene, you're gonna regret it later baby," his words weren't working on you, but then you then you thought about it. Maybe he was right, you should calm down, you hated creating scenes.

"Why're you calling me baby Heeseung?" Your voice is now softer, no longer yelling at him.

"You used to be my baby," you really didn't know how to react to his words, after all it's his fault you're broken up.

Your thoughts are immediately interrupted by his lips on yours. A feeling you haven't felt in so long. The kiss begins to become more like making out, his tongue dancing with yours and his hands on your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

He breaks the kiss to catch his breath and to say, "you're so lucky my buddy Jake owns this house. Follow me to the bedroom baby," the alcohol, and desire completely throw all of your common sense and critical thinking out the window. He takes your hand and leads you upstairs to an empty bedroom.

Once in the bedroom he immediately closes and locks the door before pinning you against it. Before you can process anything his lips are once again on yours moving hungrily.

He breaks away to remove your top, which coincidentally you weren't wearing a bra under. He lets out a small gasp but then a smirk curves onto his lips. His hands grab onto your breasts kneading them before taking one into his mouth.

You moan at the sensation and move one of your hands to his hair gripping it lightly. "Hee–" your breathless words made him want you even more.

He releases your breasts and removes his own shirt, unbuttoning it quickly.

Seeing his bare torso after so long could've made you cum on the spot, you loved his abs so much, you'd caress them randomly even if you were just cuddling and watching tv. "You're drooling Y/N," he chuckles. "No I'm not!" trying to wipe the saliva that had escaped the corners of your mouth.

He takes your hand and drags you over to the bed pushing you down onto it gently. He climbs on top of you, now hovering above you. He kisses you again while his hands move to the waistband of your short skirt. He breaks the kiss for a moment, "can I?" he asks, waiting for you to grant him permission to remove it.

You nod unable to form words momentarily. He wastes no time unbuttoning the denim skirt and unzipping it. He pulls it down leaving you in just your baby pink lacy underwear.

"These are so cute baby, I love this new pair," Heeseung had seen pretty much every pair of your underwear while you were together. You two were quite the hormonal teenagers in high school.

He then removes his pants, now leaving the two of you in just your underwear.

He reaches to remove your underwear sliding it down your legs before tossing it somewhere in the room. He slowly spreads your legs giving himself a view of your bare pussy. "Just how I remember it... So wet and pretty for me. He'd always do this whenever you two had sex. He'd spend so much time complimenting your pussy as if it could hear him. You always had to beg and plead for him to do something to you. "I'm gonna eat her okay?" he looks up at you waiting for approval whilst positioning his head between your legs.

"Please..." he doesn't hesitate after hearing your breathless plea to start licking your folds. The sensation is one you haven't felt in a while making it feel foreign to you once again. "Hee—" you moan. Your fingers bury themselves into his soft locks.

He continues to lick and occasionally sucks on your clit. He then inserts two fingers and starts moving them in and out of you. The double stimulation from his tongue and fingers making you see colors, the grip on Heeseung's and hair and your grip on the sheets making your knuckles turn white slightly. It's surprising how you're not ripping out his hair at this point. "Shit- Heeseung.. I'm gonna c-cum!" You can feel him smirking against your cunt as your loud moaning signifies your approaching orgasm.

Before you can let it go he pulls away making you whimper at the loss of stimulation, and the emptiness without his fingers. You're about to complain but he opens his mouth before you, "I want you to cum on my dick, not my tongue baby."

He then pulls down his boxers revealing his hard length, the one you haven't seen in nearly three years. You still loved it though, it was so big, thick and veiny... It was one of your favorite things about him, how blessed he was to be so big.

He pumps himself a few times before positioning himself between your legs. "You ready for me?" you couldn't tell if he was talking to you, or your pussy but you responded anyway "yes... please..."

He slowly inserts himself into your entrance going slowly so you can adjust to his size. You moan at the feeling of him stretching you. He bottoms out, pausing for a moment to let you adjust. "Please— can you move," you whine. He chuckles at your words before he starts moving his thrusts starting out slow before he starts speeding it up, the sounds of skin slapping together fills the room as he splits your hole open. You can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix.

"You feel so good baby, just how I remember. So tight for me baby," he groans as he feels you clench around him at his words. "Seungie-" your fingers gripping the sheets tighter.

"I know baby, I know," he knew exactly what was happening. He loved the sound of you calling him his old nickname. "Let go for me baby, we'll cum at the same time."

All it takes is a few more thrusts for you both to let go, the knot that was forming in your stomach finally snapping. You felt his warm release coating your walls, and you felt your release mixing with his. He pulled out of you gently, careful as to not hurt you. You could feel the liquids spilling out and sliding down your ass.

Heeseung lays next to you looking into your eyes, "goodnight Y/N," he says softly. You give him a gentle smile before closing your eyes and going to sleep.

What happens now?

What happens between you two?

Do you get back together?

PART TWO HERE

[wwooyology]

Rough Me Up | P.JS

「pairing」 : bf!jay x fem!reader 「word count」 : 4.2k

「synopsis」 : you and jay have been together for a few years and you couldn't be happier, but there's was something about your sex life that was just too plain. too vanilla. you wanted something more, but you were scared to ask so you rant to your best friend, only this is..... jay heard everything and he plans on giving you everything you want and more.

「genre」 : smut, tinge of fluff

「warnings」 : MINORS NOT INTERACT!!, cussing, mentions of porn, making out, degration, praising, petnames (princess, baby, love, slut, good girl...), choking, breath play, begging, oral (f. receiving), biting/marking, fingering, manhandling, dom!jay x sub!reader, slight teasing, cum eating, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cream pie, hair pulling, spitting, bulge kink, breeding kink, lmk if I missed anything!

「notes」 : I would like to wish a very beautiful girl a very happy birthday! happy birthday nessa (aka @heeslomll) I hope you've had an amazing day and that you enjoy this fic I pulled together as a present! I love you sm and can't wait to hear what you think 🤭

“You don’t get it Nia,” You pinched the bridge of your nose, eyes closed as you paced the ground by the end of you and Jay’s shared bed, “you and Jungwon actually have an interesting sex life.” you could recall the times that she had called gushing about all of the new things that they would try, whether you really wanted to know or not.

“Then talk to him girl, it wouldn’t hurt and hey maybe he’s just been scared you wouldn’t be into it.” Nia shrugged from the other side of the phone, she had heard this conversation from you countless times. Even more here as of late because you had just got off your period and were going insane because of ovulation.

You groaned once more, “what am I supposed to tell him? ‘Hey Jay I’m tired of the boring shit you should tie me up and fuck me till I pass out’ or maybe ‘I want you to pull my hair and spit in my mouth’.” 

Nia burst out laughing on the other side of the phone causing you to roll your eyes as you walked over to the window. The thoughts of Jay doing all of those things to you were making you all hot and bothered, your thighs subconsciously rubbing together to try and relieve some of the pressure.

“Girl, how much porn have you been watching?” She asked between laughter, “just ask him if he would consider it, you know how much he cares about you y/n.” 

You sigh, shaking your head. You knew she was right, that all you had to do was talk to Jay about it, but you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by it. What if he thought that you didn’t enjoy the sex that you did have? Or what if he thought you were weird for being into the more kinkier side of things?

Clearing your throat you just decided that you would just keep your mouth shut, too embarrassed. Biting at your bottom lip you just told Nia that you would call her later and she sighed before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Your whole body felt warm, needing to fill your veins, but Jay was downstairs cooking dinner so you weren’t going to bother him. Trying to shake the feeling off a bit so you could take a shower to maybe cool off, you turned only for your breath to hitch in your throat.

Jay stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. Your heart started to race, heat creeping up your neck, praying that he had just gotten there and didn’t hear a word of your conversation. Your tongue jutted out to wet your lips as you tried your best to keep his intense eye contact.

“H-Hey baby,” You cured yourself for stuttering, instantly giving yourself away. “Is dinner done?” You tried to keep your voice steady as you watched him push off of the door frame, walking towards you.

All of the hairs on your body stood up as Jay made his way closer, his eyes bore into you like a wolf stalking a rabbit. Swallowing thickly you started to back away with every step that he made towards you.

Your heart was beating loud enough that you were sure that he could hear it and your face felt so warm that you started to wonder how you hadn’t passed out yet.

“Jay?” You called out his name as your back came into contact with the wall, stopping your movements. “What are you-”

“You know…” He cut your words short as he closed the space between you, hand pressed against the wall next to your head taking in the panic in your eyes. Your heart nearly stopped when he leaned down until his lips were right next to your ear, “I never thought my sweet little princess was such a nasty slut.”

Your eyes went wide as he backed away to meet your eyes once more, he had heard the conversation. So many things started to spiral in your head, did he really think that? Had you grossed him out? 

All of those thoughts came to a screeching halt when he grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up until his lips were merely inches away from yours. Your eyes flutter closed waiting for him to close the space between you. However, he doesn't instead he rubs your bottom lip with his thumb, prompting you to open your eyes.

“Is that something you really want, princess?” He asked, eyes searching yours as you looked up at him. Not having the courage to speak the words you went with nodding your head softly, but Jay just shook his, “I’mma need to hear you say it love.” His voice dropped an octave making your knees weak.

Swallowing thickly, “yes, I want this Jay. Please.” your voice was merely a whisper, but the male had heard it nonetheless. 

“Good girl.” Jay’s voice was like honey, coxing you into a trance. Your eyes fluttered closed once more as he closed the gap between the both of you, stealing the air from your lungs. His lips were soft against yours, moving slowly as his hand moved from your chin to encase your throat causing a small squeak to leave you lips, but it was quickly swallowed by his lips.

“Jay.” You whined as he pulled his lips away from yours trailing down your jaw, nipping at the skin. The hand around your throat moved away allowing him to leave wet, hot kisses along your jugular. 

You could feel your panties growing wetter and wetter by the second as his hands roamed your body, squeezing your hips before trailing down to your thighs.Before you could even process it Jay lifted you off of your feet, hoisting you up his hip. In seconds Jay’s lips were back on yours as he walked towards the bed, laying you down on the soft mattress. Small whines fell from your lips as his hands wandered from your inner thigh to your core, pressing down enough to elicit an actual moan from your lungs.

Jay pulled away from you so he could take in your dazed eyes, your kiss swollen lips and how your chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. He had been holding back for so long, thinking that you wouldn’t like how rough he could be, but seeing how desperately you had wanted it when you were on the phone with your friend. It was driving him crazy thinking about how much he could ruin you.

His eyes followed your hands as you reached for the hem of his shirt, but he was quick to grab your wrists, holding them in place.

“Here’s the deal baby,” He looked down at you with a lust filled gaze causing you to bite your lip, “if you want this, we’re doing things my way, meaning…” Dropping your hands he grabbed your thighs pulling your lower body flush against his and a gasp escaped from your lips as you felt his erection against your clothed core. “You just be a good girl and listen.”

You nodded quickly, the need to have him touch you growing way too strong to care. Jay smirked knowing that you were already losing yourself, making his job a bit easier. Biting his lip he leaned back over you, pressing his bulge against you, watching your eyes roll slightly. 

His hands moved to the hem of your shorts, fingers looping around the band to pull them down. Your whole body was tingling with excitement, you weren’t sure what to expect but you were going to take anything and everything that he has to offer you.

“Jay, please.” You whined, lifting your hips slightly, your body shivering when you felt him against you.

Chuckling, Jay made quick work of your sleep shorts and underwear, leaving your bottom half completely bare. Once the articles of clothing were discarded elsewhere in the room, he moved down until he was face-to-face with your dripping cunt. Your heated gaze followed after him, watching in anticipation.

“Oh you’re dripping baby,” He teased as he spread your folds, taking in the way your hole clenched around nothing. A gasp fell from your lips when buried his face in your cunt, nose bumping your clit as he inhaled your scent. “Fuck princess, you smell so sweet.”

Your thighs already started to tremble when he licked a stripe up your slit before wrapping his lips around your clit. A loud moan ripped through your throat when he started to devour your pussy like it was his last meal.

“Fuck Jay!” You cried out, your hand flying to his head, finger gripping on his hair. You back arched off of the bed, pushing your hips further into his face causing him to groan. Jay was quick to press his hand flat down on your stomach, keeping you in place.

Choked moans fall from your lips as your head falls back, fingers gripping Jay’s hair tightly. The pain only spurred Jay on further.

Sparks flew across your vision as he moved down to your slit, tongue moving along your velvet walls while his nose rubbed your clit in ways that left you seeing stars. Your orgasm was right on the tip of your tongue and your legs shook on either side of his head.

“F-Fuck! Jay!” You cried out as your body started to spasm, toes curling as your orgasm washed over you. Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head as he moves back up to your clit, sucking on it harshly. “Jay, ‘s too much.” Whimpers fall from your lips as he keeps up his pace throwing your body into overstimulation.

“You can take it baby,” He pulled away, allowing your vision to focus for a moment, until his fingers started to trace your entrance. “This is what you wanted after all.” Then he slipped his middle and ring finger inside of your soaping cunt with little to no resistance. Your back started to arch once more, but his hand on your stomach pressed down firmly causing you to whine.

“J-Jay… fuck!” You moaned out as the pace of his fingers picked up, rubbing one picurlier spot which left you lying there breathless. “Jay, shit please.” 

Jay didn’t say a word as he latched his lips back to your clit, completely losing himself in the taste of you.

Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as your mouth gaped open, your head falling back. Stars danced across your vision, your whole body shaking underneath Jay’s hold. The pace of his fingers was relentless as he easily found the spongy spot inside your pussy, making you cry out his name. Your whole body tingled as all of your senses became overwhelmed, thighs trembling, threatening to close. Noticing this, Jay took his hand from your stomach to grip one of your thighs tightly.

You weren’t able to give him a warning as you came around his fingers, as he continued to suck on your clit in time with his fingers. Feeling you squeeze around his fingers as you cried out his name left Jay groaning against you.

“Fuck baby, you came so much.” He cooed at you as his fingers continued to work into your sensitive cunt, prolonging your orgasm until you shook tremendously.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall as he rubs your sweet spot once more. Your hand falls from his hair to grab at his wrist, hoping to pull his hand away from your sensitive pussy.

“Come on, princess, give me one more.” He smirked as he kissed his way up your tummy, moving your shirt out of the way. You whined when his thumb made contact with your clit, your head falling back, allowing Jay to latch his lips to the soft skin of your neck.

“Jay, I can’t, please.” You whimpered as you clenched around his fingers once more, your orgasm right on the horizon, but Jay just sped his fingers up more, causing a choked moan to fall from your lips.

“Take it like a good girl, and stop whining.” He growled against your skin, making your head spin at the tone. Moving away from your neck, he hovered over you, taking in the fucked out expression on your face with a smug smirk. “You are a good girl, right?” He asked, watching in amusement when you shook your head vigorously, biting your bottom lip.

After a few more strokes of his fingers, you came undone around Jay’s fingers for the second time, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as silent screams fall from your lips. Jay’s fingers move along your silky walls, helping you ride out your orgasm.

Your chest heaved as Jay pulled his drenched digits from your core, bringing them up to tap on your bottom lip, looking at you expectantly. You looked at him with dazed, wide eyes.

“Go on, clean my fingers; this is your mess, after all.” He raised an eyebrow, tapping your lips once more, prompting you to open them. He watched with a smirk as you allowed him to stick his soaked fingers into your mouth.

Wrapping your lips around his fingers, tongue dancing around his digits. Your brain nearly short-circuited at the taste of your own release. Jay bit back a groan, his pants becoming uncomfortably tight.

Once he deemed his fingers clean enough, he pulled them from your mouth, watching the string of saliva grow thin until it snapped. You breathed deeply as he moved away from your body, tugging at the strings of his sweatpants.

Your eyes stayed trained on his body as he pulled his shirt over his head, allowing you to ogle at his toned stomach. Feeling your eyes on him, Jay looks over at you, meeting your eyes and sending you a wink. Heat crept up your neck as you kept his eye contact.

After Jay had discarded all of his clothing, letting his hard cock spring free, beads of precum decorating the tip. Your thighs clenched together at the sigh, mouth-watering, wanting nothing more than to crawl to him and let him use your throat until he was content. However, Jay had a different plan, leaving that idea for the next time.

Jay made his way back to the bed, sitting down where his back was pressed against the headboard. You sat up on shaky arms, watching and waiting for his instructions, not wanting to do anything against his command.

“Come here, princess.” He motioned you forward and you did as told, moving towards him on shaky legs.

His hands grab your hips as you straddle his waist, your heart hammering in your chest as the need starts to creep up your spine once more. One of your hands gripped his shoulder while the other went down to his dick, starting to line it up with your entrance. Jay couldn’t help but chuckle at how desperate you were to have him in you.

However, his grip on your hips tightened, keeping you from sinking down onto him fully. A whine tore through your throat as you looked at him with teary eyes. You tried to wiggle your hips as you felt his tip prodding at your entrance, but not quite going in.

“Mmm, what do good girls do?” He asked, leaning forward to press hot kisses along your collarbone. You whined, fingers digging into his forearms as you fought against his grip, just wanting to sink down onto him. Noticing that you weren’t going to do as he said, he pulled away, a hard gaze fixed on his features. “Don’t make me ask again.” Jay’s voice was cold, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

A whine fell from your lips as you met his heated gaze. The tears that pooled at your waterline broke free. Frustration bubbled in your chest, biting on the inside of your cheek. You wanted to talk back and tell him to just let you ride him, but you had a feeling that doing so would just result in the opposite. Then it clicked in your brain: This could be what gets you what you want.

“Just fuck me, Jay.” You sassed with a roll of your eyes and it was then that something switched in Jay’s mind. Something clouds his mind as he flips the two of you around until you are lying on your back, staring at him with wide eyes.

You opened your mouth to say something, but only a small squeak came out as he wrapped his fingers around your neck, squeezing. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, staring up at him, body wiggling underneath him in anticipation.

“What happened to my good girl?” Jay asked the corner of his lip twitching and his eyes growing dark. 

You couldn’t help the smirk that started to spread on your lips. You were not entirely sure what was coming over you, but the insatiable need to act out was stronger than ever. The expression, however, only annoyed Jay further, though your next words finally pushed him over the edge.

“The good girl is gone, Jjong, fuck me like the slut that I am.” Your voice was sweet like honey as you stared up at him with doe eyes.

“So you wanna be treated like a slut?” He chuckled darkly, causing more heat to pool in the pit of your stomach, “then I’ll treat you like a slut.” 

He then slid inside your wet heat in one go, causing your jaw to go slack, eyes rolling back. Broken moans fall through your lips as his pace picks up, not giving you a moment to adjust. His hold on your throat tightens as he fucks into you, dark spots clouding your vision.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl?” Jay chuckled, hips snapping into yours, hitting all of the right spots deep inside of your cunt. 

His hold on your throat tightens until you are left with very little oxygen supply, making your brain go hazy. Jay watched smugly as your mouth opened, gasping as he positioned his cock into your cunt. It wasn’t until your nails were digging into his wrist, gasping for breath and walls clenching around him tightly, that he loosened his grip, allowing you to breathe.

“Fuck baby, you’re squeezing me so tight.” Jay groaned, his other hand squeezing your hip to keep you in place. As you started to squirm, the sensitivity started to get to you. He watched as your mouth dropped open once more, and a thought flooded into his mind.

Leaning down, “Stick your tongue out, princess.” His voice was husky as he bit back a groan from how tight you were squeezing him, a tell-tale sign that you were close. You whined as he brushed over your sweet spot, pulling more tears from your eyes. Moving his hand from your neck, he grabs your cheeks, smooshing them together, making your eyes focus on him. “Stick your tongue out,” Jay repeated himself with a growl and this time you did as told, letting your tongue loll out. 

Jay gathered a ball of saliva in his mouth before spitting into your mouth, watching as it slid down your tongue, which only made him ten times harder. When you closed your mouth to swallow without him telling you to do so, he groaned. 

“Jay!” You screamed his name as he slammed into you roughly, inching you closer to your orgasm, black dots clouding your vision. 

“Are you close already, baby?” He cooed mockingly as he removed his hand from your face to place it back on your throat, squeezing until a choked moan came from your lips. His other hand then moves down to circle your clit, eliciting a breathless cry from your lungs.

With a few more tweaks of his fingers on your little bundle of nerves had you falling over the edge. Your back arched off of the bed, a strangled cry falling from your lips as your walls started to flutter around Jay’s cock. Jay groaned loudly as he continued to pound into you, relishing in the lewd sounds that came from your spasming cunt.

“Fuck princess,” He chuckled but was cut off as you squeezed him rather tightly, nearly knocking him over the edge as well, but he wasn’t quite ready yet. So he slowed his movements until he was completely still, allowing you to breathe for just a moment.

“J-Jay…” You whined when he pulled out of your abused pussy, but you couldn’t help but feel empty and want nothing more than to have him stuff you full once more.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to beg him to fuck you full of his cum, he let go of your throat and flipped your body around until you were lying on your stomach. A gasp fell from your lips when he grabbed your hips to pull you up, laying on your knees and forearms.

“We’re not done yet, still gotta stuff my little slut full of my cum.” He teased your entrance with his tip once more, listening to your whines, “Stuff you so full you’ll be lucky I don’t get you pregnant.”

A choked gasp fell from your lips as he slid into once more, your cum and slick, making it far too easy to do so. Your eyes roll at the feeling of his tip hitting your cervix with each thrust, making your whole body tremble from the oversensitivity.

“You would like that thought, wouldn’t you?” Jay teased, hands gripping your hips tightly as he continued to fuck into you, “You’d look so fucking hot carrying my baby.” He groaned, just thinking about how swollen your belly would get or how big your breasts would grow; the thought nearly made him bust then and there.

“Please,” You cry out, face muffled by the pillows as your tears stained the fabric under you. Your brain turns into mush as he hits your sweet spot repeatedly, making stars dance across your vision.

However, Jay didn’t like how quiet you had gotten, wanting to hear every little sound you made. So he removed one hand from your hip to trail up your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake until he got to your head. He wrapped his hand in your hair before tugging upward, lifting your body and causing a loud whine to slip from your lips.

“J-Jay, ‘s too much. I can’t-'' You cried out, tears spilling from your eyes. Your body felt overwhelmingly warm as another orgasm crept up your spine, tightening the knot in the pit of your stomach.

“You can, baby, I know you can.” Jay’s voice turned soft, making your mind reel as your head fell back onto his shoulder while his hands fell back to your hips. 

Your vision was going hazy as you wrapped your hands around his forearm, trying to ground yourself. However, when Jay pressed down on the bulge in your lower tummy, that little band snapped, and you came all over his cock once more, silent cries falling from your lips as you went lightheaded.

“That’s my good girl; you did so good for me.” Jay cooed against your head, hand moving up to your sternum to hold you close to his body as his own orgasm hit, spilling deep into your womb. His thrust slowed until they came to a full stop inside, plugging his seed in your still tight hole.

Jay pressed soft kisses along your shoulder and neck, waiting until your breathing evened out and you opened your eyes. Once your eyes were open, he pressed a soft kiss against the skin of your cheek.

“Let’s get cleaned up so we can eat dinner.” He whispered softly, trailing kisses along your jaw. You inhaled deeply, trying to focus your vision before nodding, allowing him to take care of you like he normally does.

~

After you both cleaned up and ate dinner, you were sitting on the couch, cuddled up under a blanket, watching whatever movie you had agreed on. You lay against his chest, playing with his fingers that were wrapped around your waist.

“Princess,” His voice jolted you out of your thoughts, and you hummed, looking up at him. “Don’t ever be scared to talk to me about stuff like that, okay?” He told you, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you further into him. “I want to make it enjoyable for both of us.”

You felt your chest tighten at the guilty look on his face. Turning around, you sat on your knees in front of him, cupping his face in your hands.

“I will. I promise, my love, and don’t feel guilty, please.” You pouted slightly before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Jay chuckled against your lips before closing the gap and sealing your lips in a gentle and sweet kiss.

The two of you then parted, and you laid on his chest, relishing in his warmth. Jay wrapped his arms around you before turning his attention back to the TV. Not quite tired yet, but once you fell asleep, he turned everything off and carried you to bed.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[withlovemark]

“how to make a girl cum?”

synopsis -> mark lee. 25 years old. too busy with his career. has only ever touched a girl once in his life and he’s not even sure it counts considering she didn’t cum and he lasted 7 seconds. all he knows is his hand and what he watches from porn. you’re absolutely tired of seeing your loser of a best friend, who’s supposed to be this hot sexy idol, fumble every girl he comes in contact with because of his fear of sexual acts…so you decide to help him out.

warnings: fingering, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), praising kink if you squint

—

“how are things with belle?,” you ask mark! who is seated right next to you on the black couch in the middle of the practice room. the two of you alone in this room full of mirrors.

“oh dude, i ended things with her,” he says nonchalantly.

“what!? why? weren’t you just telling me last week how she was perfect?,”

“exactly! it was getting too serious, she touched my thigh and i was like okay, yeah, we’re done,”

“are you fucking kidding me? this again,” you sigh in disappointment. he practically begged you to introduce her to him and he just pulls away like he always does.

“uhhh yes this again,” he replies blatantly, rolling his eyes, “remember what happened last time with that other girl, she laughed at my face and told me it was disappointing that i didn’t live up to everyone’s expectations yet alone even make her cum,” he cringed at the words, that day vividly replaying in his mind like a reoccurring nightmare.

“it was your first time mark, cut yourself some slack, it happens!,” you reassure him for the millionth time.

“yeah, no, i’d rather die a virgin than go through that embarrassment ever again,” he scoffs and you almost can’t believe what you’re about to say but your best friend needed serious help.

“how about you do some practice?,”

he looks at you like you just said the most ridiculous thing ever, “and who exactly am i gonna practice on?”

“me,”

“what?!”

“me,” you repeat even louder.

“i-what?”

“me! mark,” he freezes on the spot, registering your words and for a second you’re afraid you broke him until he breaks the silence, “no.”

“and why the fuck not? do you think i’m ugly?,”

“what?! no dude, you’re fucking hot,” the comment going straight to your head, giving you a boost of confidence.

“so what’s stopping you?,”

“dude, c'mon, you’re literally my best friend!”

“so?,”

“best friends don’t touch each other,”

“sure but as your best friend i can’t keep seeing you sabotage potential relationships because of something as silly as this!,” you argue while he still looks at you like you were crazy.

“i promise i won't laugh at you and i promise you will at least know how to make a girl cum after this,” you continue, becoming more compelling with every second that passes.

mark sits there in silence, weighing out the pros and cons of this agreement…and well, he couldn’t think of any cons. plus, you’re the only person he trusts enough to do this with.

he sighs deeply, finally making up his mind, “when do we start?”

you smirk at his response, happy to hear him agree, “right now.”

“what!? no!,”

���but you just agreed!,”

“yeah but i gotta do research first,”

“you mean watch more porn??,” you roll your eyes, scoffing, “THIS is your research, it’s not gonna get better than actually experiencing it firsthand,” you make your point and mark can’t argue with that.

he does learn faster when he’s doing it himself.

“okay,” he nods slowly, trying to come to terms that this is happening now.

“okay,” you agreed, slowly inching the space in between you, “we’re in a practice room after all,” you smirk, whispering against his ear, sending goosebumps throughout mark’s body as he waits for you to take the lead, not quite sure if this is real or just a figment of his imagination.

you notice the way he froze, only indication that he was still in the room was the anxious bouncing of his leg, eyes staring straight at the floor, “relax, mark,” you say, placing your hand gently on his thigh. mark gulps, staring at your hand, still refusing to look at you.

“well, this just won't do,” you break the silence, grabbing his hand and pulling him across the room, making him sit on the floor – right in front of the mirror.

“wh-what?,” he sputters, looking up at your figure, still standing in front of him.

“now you have no choice but to look at me,” you tease, slowly removing your pants, leaving you in your panties before quickly taking your seat right in between mark’s legs, back rested against his body, facing the mirror ahead of you. this was as vulnerable for you as it was for him.

mark watches it all unfold in a blink of an eye, seeing you in your pink lacy underwear has got him salivating, the gravity of the situation settling in him…he was about to touch his very hot best friend.

“mark,” you call out to him, snapping him out of his daydream, his eyes following your voice, “yeah?,” he responds quietly, finding it hard to breathe. you give him a gentle smile, “is this okay?,” you ask, making yourself comfortable in the space between him. he responds in slow nods, the warmth from your body making it hard for him to think about anything else but you.

“good,” you part your legs for him, grabbing his hand and placing it on your clothed core, “touch me,” a light shocked expression appeared on his face due to your boldness before he obeyed, lightly rubbing his fingers against your panties.

“more pressure, mark,” he immediately follows your command, adding more pressure to his fingers as he slid them up and down the cotton barrier. you release a sigh of pleasure, feeling your arousal start to build up, watching mark through the mirror as he focuses on his fingers, eyebrow’s furrowing, making sure he’s rubbing you with the just the right amount of pressure.

it’s cute how determined he looks.

“don’t think too hard about it, you’re doing so well, can’t you feel how wet my panties are now?,” his cock twitching at your praise as your stained panties were starting to feel sticky against your cunt.

“take them off,” you demand. mark follows straight away, gently removing your panties off of you, leaving you completely bare, all for him.

“look in the mirror, mark,” you order and for the first time he finally makes eye contact with you through the glass, “look how wet i am for you,” you pout, your juices glistening under the lights.

mark can’t help but stare in awe, “dude, i-i did this?,” he says unsure, cheeks pink.

the nickname makes you frown, “do not call me dude when you’re about to have your fingers inside me,” you reprimand and he lets out a tiny apology before you grab his hand, placing it back on your cunt.

“now, show me what you know,”

marks fingers are back on you, rubbing you the way he did before, his fingers easily sliding up and down your slick folds, the friction making you whine under his touch. he takes that as a sign and without any warning, jams a finger in, immediately thrusting them in and out of you at an already brutal speed, making you hiss in pain.

“stop!,” you say, legs instinctively closing as he quickly pulls his fingers out, eyes wide, afraid.

“that did not feel good,” you give your feedback and he almost crashes out, the reminder of him being bad at this catching up to him, “b-but that's what they do in all the videos!” he sputters out, slightly panicking.

oh, how badly he needed your help.

“just take it slow mark, there’s no rush,” you smile softly, trying to comfort him, “here,” you grab his finger, controlling his speed as he slides down your core again, finger slowly disappearing inside you, following the curve of your pussy.

you let out a shaky breath at the slow intrusion, feeling your walls tighten around his digit. like this, you can feel how much longer his finger is compared to your own, reaching that spot so easily, “now curl it,” you instruct and he curls it perfectly on the first try, eliciting a moan from you, making his cock twitch.

“good boy,” you praise, boosting mark’s confidence as he curls his finger in the same spot again and again. you let go of his hand, letting him take over as he took note of every moan that spilled from your lips.

“i-is this good?,” he asks, adding another finger in and curling it just the way you like it.

“s-so good mark,” you whine under his touch, approving his action, “go faster now,” you say, hips arching up, needing more from him.

mark loves watching the way your body reacts to his hand and almost like his free hand had a mind of it’s own, it finds its way around your sensitive bud, rubbing slow but harsh circles, “ohhh fuuck,” you moan, head falling back to his shoulder as your hand gripped his thigh trying to ground yourself, the tension in your stomach tightening.

“yeah?, you like that baby?,” he whispers against your ear, the nickname sending tingles down your core, pussy clenching tightly around his fingers. mark doesn’t need to hear your answer with the way your body speaks to him, he takes note of all of it.

“s-say that again,” you gasp, fingers continuing to move inside you while the tingle in your stomach keeps growing and growing, mark’s newfound confidence becoming stronger and stronger with every moan you give him.

“gonna make my baby cum,” he grunts in your ear, more determined than ever to get a job done. you watch it all play out on the mirror in front of you — body trapped in his, mark’s fingers curling in and out of you, juices leaking onto his fingers, eyebrows slightly furrowed, light sweat dripping down his forehead, muscles clenching.

he’s so focused on you, and he looks fucking hot doing so.

you can’t help yourself, turning your head towards him and catching his lips in yours. mark halts his movement for a quick second before regaining his composure, kissing you back ferociously, tongue meeting yours, quickly taking the lead. he did not need any tips for this – mark was a good fucking kisser, great even.

his lips moving with yours heightens the rest of your senses, drowning out all the other noises and only focusing on the boy next to you. you feel everything — the circles around your clit, the curls of his finger, his rock hard cock against your back; making you feel lightheaded, heat traveling throughout your body as mark swallowed your moans with his kisses.

you only pull away when your release took over, “—gonna cum,” you barely warn him, head falling back to his shoulder, eyes rolling back, toes curling as you let out a strangled gasp, the mind bending orgasm making your body shake, mark coaxing you through it.

“made my baby cum on the first try,” he softly teases, leaving soft kisses on your temple as he watches you unravel through the mirror. your hips arched up as you leaned on him for support, eyes closed, lips flushed, looking absolutely fucked out and his own body can’t help but react to the scene, staining his sweats.

you try to calm your erratic breathing, eyes fluttering open to the scene of mark licking his fingers clean off your arousal, “how does it taste?,” you tease. his eyes darken at your question, looking right at you through the mirror, “so good baby…you taste so good,” he says before diving his fingers back to your cunt, making you jump, as he collected the remaining juices, bringing it back to his lips, humming in satisfaction, eye contact never breaking – the action turning you on more than ever.

“congrats, you just made a girl cum,” you smirk, turning around on your knees to face him.

he lets out a nervous chuckle, glancing at you with uncertainty. "be honest, how was it, really?" he asks, his voice tinged with anxiety and you can tell the burst of confidence he had earlier was gone.

“honestly,” you start, gaining his full attention, “soo good mark, you learn so quickly…you think you can make me do it again?,” you ask, doe eyes innocently looking up at his brown ones.

he nods furiously at your request, hands immediately going to your hips, getting ready to turn you around and have you back in the same position before you stop him.

“hmm, i was thinking, maybe you can make me cum on your cock?,” you ask and mark chokes on his own breath, glancing around the room, getting shy under your gaze.

“i-uhm, i already came in my pants,” he whispers, afraid to confess it out loud.

“that’s. so. hot.” you comment, hands finding its way to his thighs, as you observe the wet stain on his grey sweats, capturing mark’s attention.

“wait? really?”

“mhm, i think it’s really hot how much effect i have on you, cumming in your pants and i didn’t even have to touch you,” you tease, his pants feeling tighter and tighter, “what do you say, mark?, you want to cum again?,” you whisper, pouting your lips.

“fuck y/n,” he whines breathily, you had him wrapped around your fingers now, how could he ever say no?

he pulled you towards him, taking the lead and smashing his lips against yours, gently sucking, tongues battling for dominance. your hand wraps around his neck, fingers finding its way to his hair, gripping it gently. the action enough to harden his cock.

quickly you pull away, taking off your shirt, pink lacy bra coming into view matching your panties. mark takes a second to admire your body, warm hands squeezing your waist, before following suit, discarding his own clothes to the side, leaving him in his stained boxers, lips back on yours as you continue to explore each other’s mouths.

your hand travelled down his chest to his torso, lower and lower, slipping inside his boxers and wrapping around his cock, earning a moan from him. you take note of how long he is, the anticipation of him inside you making your pussy twitch, insides bubbling once again.

you pump him once, twice…his whines against your lips, making you clench around nothing but air.

“stop it baby, i'm not gonna last if you do that,” he pleads and you want so badly to just have your way with him, pumping him to finish as he withers in his moans but before you could do so, he pushes your hand away, creating space between you.

“stop, please…want to be inside you,” he cries, shutting his eyes, trying to calm himself down as he slows his breathing, holding you an arm length away. he feels like he’s gonna burst any minute now and he really doesn’t want to do that without making you cum a second time.

“okay, mark,” you follow his order, “you’re in charge, baby,” you give up control, waiting for mark to take the lead, as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying his best push away his orgasm. he slowly opens his eyes, all his breathing work practically useless at the sight of you.

“you’re so pretty,” he says before his hands wrapped around your hips, easily picking you up. you let out a quiet yelp at his sudden action. your best friend was a lot stronger than he looks.

he makes his way over to the couch, gently placing you down, body hovering over you as you push his boxers down, pink cock springing up, hitting his belly.

there was absolutely no going back from this.

“mark, do you have a condom?,”

“fuck,” he says looking at you wide eyed, “i-i dont have one,” he stutters, frustrated, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes at the thought of not being able to satisfy you.

“you don’t carry one around?,”

“dude, we’re literally in this situation because i don’t get any action,” he reminds you, earning a laugh from you – you almost forgot…especially with how good his touches felt against your skin.

“you’re laughing, i don’t have a condom and you’re laughing,” he says in disbelief, annoyed at himself, his frustration increasing every second your laugh reaches his ears, “hey, you promised you wouldn’t laugh,” he pouts, gently poking your sides, a small smile displayed on his lips.

“sorry, sorry, i-just, you should’ve seen your face, you look like you’re about to cry,” you point out, calming down, “i’m on the pill mark, its okay,” you soothe him, and mark’s jaw almost drops to the floor.

the last and first time he had “sex” with a girl, he came in the condom as soon as he bottomed in and now he expects himself to last more than 7 seconds with you? raw? he freezes once again and you notice the change in his demeanor.

“don’t be scared mark, we’ll take it at your pace,” you comfort him, turning his head towards you for a soft, gentle kiss – so much different from the rushed kisses you previously shared.

“hey, i'm your best friend, okay, you can trust me,” you remind him, giving him a small smile “it’s okay if you cum faster than me, you’ll know what to do if that happens,” you assure him, completely trusting him with your body and all his worries fade away.

mark finally snaps out of his overthinking mind, taking the lead once again, soft lips on yours as he gently pushes you down, back against the couch, body completely hovering over you.

he swipes his cock against your folds, collecting your juices, making you shiver in anticipation, before lining against your core, slowly pushing the tip in your hole, he breathes in — you feel so fucking warm. you moan at the invasion, walls expanding, adjusting to the size of his cock as he slowly pushed inside. synchronized moans filling up the air as he bottomed in, walls tightly clenching around him, sucking him in deeper and deeper you swear you can feel him in your cervix — feel every vein on his cock twitching.

“fuuck mark, you fit perfectly,” you whine, never have you had anything feel this good inside you and he hasn’t even moved. the comment makes him blush. he was gonna have to bring that up later…right now, he’s committed to redeeming himself and pleasing you.

he starts thrusting slowly, focused on your reaction, “hmmm, feels soo good mark,” you whine. he recalls the curl of his fingers inside you, making sure he angles his cock the same way, hitting you exactly where you need it. he finds it almost instantly, faster than any other guy has ever found it, “oh god, mark-fuck,” you jumble your words, too caught up with how he’s making you feel. the slowness of it all making it more intimate, each thrust properly hitting you deep inside, back arching at the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, deep grunts right by your ear, hips meeting his.

“y-you’re so fucking tight baby mhm, making it so hard f-for me,” he whimpers, quickening his pace, the sound of clapping starting to echo throughout the walls, moans mixing in the air, the growing tension in your belly making you feel hot as you gripped his toned arm muscles.

“f-fuck mark, i-im close,” you gasped. your sensitivity from your previous orgasm quickly catching up to you, as he continued his thrusts, “m-me too baby,” he stutters, cock twitching inside you.

his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing quick circles. “oh fuck! mark, mark, mark-,” you moan over and over again, forgetting every other word but his name.

he feels like he's going to explode. the amount of restraint he was holding on to to make sure you came before him is making him feel lightheaded — desperate.

“c’mon baby, c-come with me please,” he pleadingly whines, thrusts gaining more speed, your juices making it easier for him to slide in and out, toes curling at the sensation as you feel the heat rise, the coil in your stomach making you gasp for air.

you didn't have time to warn him before your walls immediately closed in on his cock, second orgasm completely taking over, body going slack, breathy moans slipping past your lips, eyes shut, the tension in your stomach coming undone.

mark’s movements falter on top of you, your release triggering his as he paint your walls white, “fuuuck baby,” he groans, head burrowed into your neck, breathing heavily, body shaking on top of yours.

mark slowly pulls out, making you hiss at the loss of contact. you watch, in amazement, as your mixed juices spill out of your throbbing cunt, pussy still pulsating.

“how was that?,” he asks earnestly awaiting your response and all you could do is shoot him a smile, “are you sure you’ve never done this before?,” you ask, making him chuckle in satisfaction.

“good?,” he wanted to hear it from you.

“very good, mark,” you nod in approval earning a smile from him as he got up to get his shirt, using the fabric to clean you up.

“you’re a really quick learner,” you praise him.

“or i just have a really good teacher,” he shrugs, refusing to take credit for the mess the two of you made.

“well, i barely had to tell you anything for that one, you really took notes earlier huh?” you point out, as he sat down next to you, “i guess so,” he says, a small smile on display.

“think you got it, now? won’t be sabotaging any potential relationships anymore?,” you tease, disheveling his hair, a playful smile on your lips.

“hmm,” he hums, pondering.

truthfully, he was proud of himself, he really was scared over nothing, or maybe…maybe it was because you were his partner? and that made everything different. he trusts you which made it easier for him to not get caught up in his own fears, the sound of your moans and praises pushing away all his anxieties, leading him to success.

he wants to hear it again.

mark smiles mischievously, bright eyes shining, before turning to you, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, “i don’t know baby, i think i might need more practice,” he says cheekily, lips on yours once again as he unhooks your bra.

—

au: whew! well that’s that >.< genuinely….what do i need to do in life to make sure this happens to me and mark ?????????

[specialgumsock]

//SDV Bachelor's and how they would react to you wanting to be FWB with them// NSFW(kinda…) MDNI !!!

Warnings: Mentions of nsfw, no descriptions. Maybe bad writing, idk I’m tired and I’m sorry if you hate it.

Characters: Alex, Sebastian, Sam, Shane and Harvey. (Sorry elliot lovers! we all know he is too romantic for that, otherwise I would’ve added him.)

Alex would love the idea of friends with benefits, but hate the reality of it. Moreover, the fact that you’re not… Well, his.

Usually, Alex would never even dream about going to the saloon on Fridays, but one day after finding out you would be hanging out with Sebastian and his friends there that night, he his jealously consumed him, therefore causing him to go in. Not trying to make it completely obvious that he was following you-

"Alex! It’s a surprise to see you here, can I get you anything?" Emily seemed surprised to see her sister's longtime best friend, who normally seemed appalled being around a bunch of drunks, enter the establishment. "I- er, no. Just… hanging out." He says hushed, but his focus stays following you. Emily lets out a laugh. "Well, if you do need anything I’ll be over here." She shrugged, and walked back to clean out whatever dishes were left. Alex turns and shifts his whole body towards the back, where you and Sebastian were hanging out. Along with Sam and Abigail, of course. Later in the night, he hangs outside the saloon right by Dusty’s cage, and you catch him on the way out. Ultimately, he tells you the FWB thing isn’t working out and asks you on an actual date.

Sam is not too thrilled to just be friends, but he sees this as one step closer in his plan.

Sam has ADHD, he is an over thinker and an over planner. Ever since he discovered his crush on you, he made out an entire plan to make you his- Which fell apart one night when you unexpectedly, and drunkenly pulled him into a kiss at a concert. Which is fine, he can go with the flow… but your flow apparently means just friends with benefits. It’s a sticky situation, no pun intended, but the blond has found himself in worse. So he’ll probably wait around like a lost dog for you, always wounding up at your doorstep in hopes you would want him for more than sex <\3 

Sebastian is cool with it.

He probably understands where you’re coming from, and doesn’t want to leave roots in the valley since he’s planning to leave one day. Yet, he’s also a horny loner so FWB works great for him. You call? He’s at your door, already unbuckling his pants lmao. But he will probably grow attached anyway, calling just to hear your voice. But if you decide to break things off completely, he won’t fight you. He’ll just deal with the pain of it in silence.

Shane suggested it, let’s be real. LMAO.

You guys were both incredibly drunk at his house and hooked up, the next morning was extremely awkward for you two. "Uh- listen, I wouldn’t be… uh, all that great of a boyfriend, let’s just keep this… friendly?" The words took a minute for you to process, considering your feelings for the middle aged drunk. And also you’re incredibly hungover. "Yeah, of course!" You smile, causing him to let out a sigh of relief.

But, it didn’t end there. You two kept "accidentally" hooking up, and well, eventually you’ve grown tired of it- finding yourself in a similar situation to Marnie. You decide to go out on a date with someone new, a date that Shane would inevitably find out about, and show up to your house that night.

"Oh! Shane…" You opened the door, fully dressed up and headed towards the saloon.

"We need to talk."

You step aside and let him walk in. "Listen, shane-" he interrupted you with a kiss, then slowly pulls away, his hands clinging onto your upper arms.

"I know I can’t be an amazing boyfriend, or even guy… but if you give me a chance, I’m willing to try for you."

All that to say… FWB doesn’t work out with him.

Harvey doesn’t get it.

Regardless on if you explain it to him or not, he’s still asking you on dates.

You two just get done going at it, and he’s buttoning up his shirt- "So, what are you doing later? Let’s have dinner-"

Yeah, at that point you two are just dating, but it’s okay because I love him.

( I wish I could’ve made Sam's longer, he’s my husband<<<3 , also hope that you liked!!)



[atlafan]

candy

summary: harry needs to learn how to use his mouth better, so he goes to see someone who can help him with just that words: 7.9K warnings: sex work, oral (giving and receiving) a/n: not proofread I the song candy by cameo inspired this, def recommend listening because it's so good I if you like what you read here, please consider joining my patreon for access to exclusive fics not posted on tumblr I i haven't posted fic on here in a while. Please, please, please reblog, leave notes in the tags, and/or send me asks!!

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Harry was…embarrassed, to say the least. But he supposes places and services like these exist for a reason, so he shouldn’t be ashamed for going. Plus, if he boiled it down, he’s going for purely academic purposes. He needs help with something, and he’s going straight to the source to become a pro.

Taking a deep breath, Harry opens the door to the lobby of the building and goes straight to the elevator to the eighteenth floor. He takes his phone out to look at the code he was instructed to punch into the keypad on the door, and then he’s buzzed in, able to check in at reception.

“Um, hi.” He says just above a whisper to the woman behind the semi-circle desk.

“Good afternoon, sir.” She smiled warmly. “How may I help you?”

“I have an appointment at 4PM with, uh,” he looks down at his phone, “is her name really Candy?”

“No.” She chuckles. “But all of the girls have stage names, so to speak. It’s for extra security. Please, have a seat, and I’ll let her know you’re here.” She gestures to the waiting area where a few other men are waiting. God, this is mortifying, he thinks.

Harry sits down and keeps his eyes locked on his lap, not wanting to make eye-contact with any of the other guys there.

“Mr. S.?” He hears the woman from behind the desk say. “You can head down to room ten.” She gestures to the hallway and Harry gets up to go, grateful just his initial was used and not his actual name. He needs privacy just the same as these women.

When he finds room ten, he punches in the same code into the keypad and goes inside. The room is dimly lit. It looks like a large bedroom, a master suite. There’s a king-sized bed, but also a loveseat, three-seater couch, and a bureau. He also spies what looks like a bathroom. Wow, nothing’s even happened yet, and Harry’s already realizing that this is going to be worth every penny.

“Hey, baby.” Candy comes out of the bathroom dressed in a black, silk teddy dress and heels. She’s wearing thigh-high stockings as well. “Can I take your jacket for you?” Harry nods at that and unbuttons his suit jacket, shimmying it off and handing it to Candy. She makes a show of walking over to the small closet and hangs it up on a hanger before coming back to him. “This is your first time here, isn’t it.” It’s not a question, but Harry still nods. “You don’t need to be nervous, baby. You booked me for three hours, so we have all the time in the world to get comfortable. Do you want something to drink?” She gestures to the bar cart on the other side of the room.

“No, thank you.”

“Alright.”

“And I don’t want you to have one either.”

“Then I won’t.” She smiles. “Do you want to sit on the bed, the couch…?”

“The couch.” He decides, and they both go sit on it. Candy tucks her feet under her bum and props her head on her fist, resting her elbow on the back of the couch. “You’re very,” his eyes drift down to her cleavage, then back up to her face, “pretty.”

“Well, thank you, baby.” She gives him a beaming smile. “You’re a sight for sore eyes yourself.” She laughs. “I have to do this with a lot of guys I’m not particularly attracted to. I got a little excited when I saw you were assigned to me today.”

“That’s kind of you.” He blushes. “They make you have sex with guys you normally wouldn’t say yes to?”

“I mean, no one makes me do anything. There’s about a dozen different secret buttons around this room for me to press to call for security. No one gives us any trouble here, but you should know, there’s no funny business.”

���I wouldn’t dream of doing anything without your permission.”

“So, why don’t you tell me what you want, baby? How can I make you feel good? I can suck you off, let you bend me over the bed, or-“

“I want to go down on you.” He blurts out, and it takes her off guard.

“Come again?”

“I want to go down on you.” He repeats, a little slower this time. “That’s all.”

“Are you serious?”

“Do guys not normally go down on you?”

“No, some do, but most guys are here to take care of their own needs, mine don’t usually matter. Not that I mind. I have to use so much lube to get even remotely wet for some of these guys. I’m thankful that a lot of them don’t even ask to go down on me.”

“Oh.” He looks away for a moment, then back to her. “So, this is weird…”

“Nah, everyone has their kinks and fetishes. If you like going down on women, then-“

“I need practice at it.” His cheeks heat for the millionth time that day. “I’m not very good at it, not confident, and I can tell when I’m with a woman, or someone with a vagina, that…well, I get the tap a lot.”

“The tap?”

“You know,” he taps the top of one of his shoulders, “when someone gives you the tap to cut it out and get on with it. I’m confident with my cock, lots of orgasms have been had on my cock, but I know that’s not always what a woman wants, and I care so much about getting a woman off, but it’s so awkward to have to keep asking, ‘do you like that’, or, ‘is that good’. So, I just need someone to practice on so I can get better at it, and then feel more confident when I’m having relations with someone.”

“You’re telling me you’ve tried to go down on women, and they haven’t told you how to do it?”

“Some try, and then they just get frustrated, and then I get frustrated. And…I’m not all that confident with my fingers either. Sometimes I can make it happen, and other times I can’t. I feel like making a woman come during foreplay is really important. It helps them relax, gets them more into it, and then I feel better, which means I can perform better.”

“So, you booked me for three hours so I can help you get better at eating someone out, and that’s all you want to do?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I’ll probably come in my pants from doing it. I get off knowing I’m getting someone else off. So, if it’s okay with you, I’ll probably just strip down to my underthings, so I don’t ruin my pants.”

“Baby, I see people naked every day, of course it’s okay with me.”

“Do you call every guy baby?”

“I…what?”

“I don’t want to be called what you call everyone else. It feels impersonal. How am I your baby already? We just met.”

“Well, are you a precious thing.” She smooths his hair back from his forehead. “What would you like to be called? A lot of guys don’t use their real names, same as me.”

“I’d rather be called by my name. Is that okay?”

“Yes, and don’t worry, you have my discretion. We all sign NDA’s when we take on new clients.”

“That’s good to know.” Harry sighs with relief. “My job…I’m one of the faces of my company.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He shrugs.

“Did you ask any of your friends how they approach things? Or, like, have you watched lesbian porn? It’s still exaggerated, but no one knows how to go down on a woman more than another woman, in my opinion.”

“I was too embarrassed to ask my friends. We don’t talk about things like this. They only brag about the good stuff, no one talks about their weaknesses. And I have watched…all kinds of porn, and as helpful as the visuals are, I learn much better by doing.”

“Okay.” Candy stands and claps her hands together. “Let’s get comfortable on the bed. I think we should act out what you usually do when you’re getting ready to sleep with someone. Kiss me, touch me, do whatever you usually do with a woman.”

Harry nods and stands up. “My name’s Harry.”

“Hi, Harry.” She smooths her hands up his chest. “Can I loosen your tie for you?”

“Yes.” He watches her nimble fingers work the knot and slides it off his collar. She takes the material between her thumb and index finger.

“This is quality material.”

“I don’t fuck around with my clothes.” He smirks, letting some personality shine through, and she makes an impressed face. He takes the tie from her and gently places it to hang on the back of the couch. He brings his hand up and tucks some hair behind Candy’s ear, a little unsure of how to start. “So, we can kiss? You want to do this really?”

“Yes, Harry, I do.”

Hearing his name on her lips sends a zip of electricity through his body. He leans in and brushes his Cupid’s bow against hers, then takes her top lip between his own. He gives it a gentle suck, and revels in the way she kisses him back. She keeps it slow, going at his pace. His hands cup her jaw as he licks into her mouth. Candy moans lowly, melting into him.

They stand there like that for a while, just the sounds of their lips smacking, their breaths huffing, and the spit being swapped between them filling the room. Harry presses his pelvis against Candy’s, and she squeaks, immediately putting a hand over his erection to palm it. He snatches her wrist and shakes his head no.

“But, you’re hard.”

“That’s not what I want from you.” He brings her knuckles up to his lips, kissing on them, and then up her arm and to her neck.

“Oh, fuck.” She moans breathlessly, clutching at the hair on the back of his head to keep him where he is. “I love being bitten.”

Harry whimpers into her, nipping at her tender skin a little harder. Her other hand flies to his back, clutching at the material of his dress shirt. Her knees nearly buckle when his teeth nip at her earlobe. He walks her back towards the bed, and they topple on top of it. Harry wedges his thigh between Candy’s and grinds it in hard.

Candy is absolutely perplexed. Surely this Harry guy is joking because from kissing alone, she can’t imagine him not knowing what to do with her other set of lips. He’s insanely good at this part of things.

His teeth drag along her collarbones, and his hand hovers over one of her breasts. “Can I touch you here?” He asks.

“Yes.” She presses her hand over his, squeezing. “Kiss me here too.”

Harry nods and sucks on her nipple through the silk material of her teddy. She lets out a loud moan, and Harry moves to sit up. Unbuckling his belt, he shimmies out of his pants, leaving his boxer-briefs on, and undoes his dress shirt, taking that, along with his white t-shirt, off, then gets his mouth back on Candy’s.

“Jesus, you’re ripped.” She says, smoothing her hands over every hard ridge of his abdomen. “And your tattoos…so sexy.”

“Has everything been okay so far?”

“Better than okay. You’re a really good kisser.”

“I’m gonna work my way down now.” He tells her, kissing down her silk covered body. He pushes the material up to bunch around her hips. “You’re not wearing any underwear.”

“I’m aware.”

“Don’t women like being teased over them?”

“Some do, and some don’t. I personally don’t like it, so I don’t usually wear any panties under my teddies.

“Right, I need to remember not everyone is the same.” He says more to himself. “Okay, walk me through it.”

“Just do what you normally do, and I’ll correct you if need be.”

Harry nods and spreads Candy’s lips apart. She’s glistening, and it goes right to his cock because she literally just told him she needs lube for most of her clients, and she clearly doesn’t need any for him. He leans in and-

“I’m gonna stop you right there. This is where you should be teasing me.” She props herself up on her elbows. “Kiss on my inner thighs, blow cool air over me. I should be quivering and pulsing for you.”

Harry kisses from Candy’s inner left knee, and down, down, down, blows cool air over her sex, and then kisses up her other inner thigh. He sucks bruise after bruise into her, and she puts one of her legs over his shoulder, pulling him in by digging her heel into his back.

“I’m ready now, want it.”

“And should I be quick to give it to you, or should I keep teasing?”

“Keep teasing but give me your fingers first.” He raises a hand to her, and she takes two fingers into her mouth. She takes them down deep until she’s spitting up, soaking them. “Slide them through my folds.”

Harry almost blew his load right then and there. He brings his fingers down and slides them up through Candy’s folds. She spreads her legs wider and uses her own fingers to pull her outer lips up and apart so he can see her clit.

“I know where the clitoris is.” He rolls his eyes.

“Apparently you don’t if you’re getting the tap, as you called it.” She smirks. “Just take a second to look at it. It’s throbbing for you, Harry, all swollen and full of blood. It wants your tongue, your hot mouth, so badly.”

“Fuck.” He leans in and licks over it with the flat of his tongue.

“Good, do that again.” And he does, he gives it long licks over and over again. “Now, spit on it, watch it slide down my slit.” She watches him do it. “Okay, now do what you usually do.”

It felt good, at first. Candy liked the way Harry’s tongue swirled around her clit, but before she could sink into it, he licked into her cunt and curled his tongue, which also felt good, but again, by the time it was really starting to do something for her, he dragged his tongue back up to her clit. Normally, this would be edging, but this isn’t fun edging. She thinks that Harry is unaware of what he’s doing.

“Stop.” She tells him, and he does. “I see the problem.”

“How bad was it?”

“It wasn’t terrible, but you keep changing it up too quickly. It’s not a race.”

“I know that.”

“Then why do you keep moving from my clit to my hole every two seconds? You’re not giving me enough time to enjoy it while it’s happening. You gotta pick one and stick with it. What do you feel more confident with, tonguing my clit or my hole?”

“I…” He sits back and blushes. “I guess this is the part where I’m a little selfish and greedy. I feel more confident working the clit with my mouth, but I really like to taste and suck on the pussy.”

“Harry,” she chuckles, “you’re allowed to be selfish and greedy. All of that is going towards pleasuring your partner. And that doesn’t mean you can’t still do both, you just need to listen to your partner a little. See what they like, get them off, then go be gluttonous and have your feast.”

“Okay.” He nods. “How do you like it, then?”

“Don’t worry about that-“

“Candy, I really want to make you come.”

“Alright.” She nods and lays back. “I need constant stimulation to my clit, and I need fingers inside me. Get me off that way, and then you can suck on my pussy.” Harry smiles softly and dives back in, wrapping his lips around Candy’s clit. “That’s good, while you suck with your mouth, use your tongue to swirl around my clit…oh, fuck, yeah, just like that.” She reaches to brush a few stray curls back off his forehead. “And look up at me, watch me go through the motions.” His eyes flit up to hers, and her hips buck towards his mouth. “Such pretty green eyes, Harry.”

He moans and slides his middle finger inside of her. She’s so wet, and it’s driving him crazy. He ruts into the mattress, so desperate to taste everything she’s giving him. But he wants to do this right, so he focuses on her clit.

“I need two.” Harry slips a second finger inside her. “Good, pump them in and out slowly, let’s build up to things. And it’s also okay to give your mouth a break, it’s all part of the teasing.” He pops off her and watches his fingers go in and out of her tight hole. “Spit on it, keep it messy.” Harry spits onto her clit. “Now suck it back into your mouth and flick that tongue against my clit.”

He’s a good listener, open to constructive feedback, so he does as told. He’s rewarded when he feels Candy tighten around her fingers. Harry thrusts them deep inside, keeping them there as he curls them to pet against that spongey bump. Candy gasps and props herself up on her elbows as she watches Harry. Her mouth falls open and she starts rocking against him, moving her hips along with his fingers. A man hasn’t found her g-spot in ages, if ever.

“Like that, j-just like that, Harry.” She bites into her bottom lip, and he looks up at her as his tongue licks her clit in tight circles. The sound of her wetness is driving Harry crazy, but he pushes his urge to taste her down. This is about Candy right now. “Oh, wow. Wow, wow, wow, wow.” Her head falls back, and her hips raise. Her back arches, and she starts moaning out loudly, uncontrollably. “Don’t stop, Harry. Fuck, please, please, please, please! Ah, ah, ah!”

When Candy comes, she snaps her legs closed around Harry’s wrist, and nearly snaps it from the way she twitches and moves. She grabs the base of his wrist and moves it so he’ll keep fucking his fingers into her through the aftershocks. She moans gutturally one more time before falling limply against the bed.

Harry slowly pulls his fingers out of her and sucks on them. He looks down at Candy’s drenched core and lifts her thighs over his shoulders before licking inside.

“Oh!” She gasps and tugs on his hair, not to get him to stop, though. Harry moans as he drinks her in. “S-spread my cheeks and lick my other hole too.” His eyes light up, like he’s just been given a golden ticket. In a matter of seconds, he’s flipping Candy onto her stomach and pulling her up by her hips so he can spread her ass and lick her puckered hole properly. “Fuck, Harry, that’s so good. You can smack my ass too, if you want.” She jolts forward when his large hand comes down hard on her cheek. “Fuck me with your fingers from behind, really beat them into me.”

This time, Harry fucks her with three fingers, and he does it rapidly as he continues eating her peach.

“Harry, I…I think I’m gonna…” she doesn’t get to finish her sentence. The wave of relief crashes over her and she gushes. Harry’s fingers slide out, and slap against her clit quickly, keeping the mess flowing. “Fucking hell.” Her chest heaves as she moves to lay on her back. Harry lays down next to her.

“So, all of that was good?”

“It was very good.” She pats at his chest. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve come so hard.” She turns her head to look at him. “Did you end up blowing in your underwear?”

“Yeah.” He smiles sheepishly. “It was hard not to.”

“Damn, I would have gladly sucked you off after all that.”

“I’ll get hard again.” He waves her off. “We’re not done yet.”

“Right, you still have me for a couple more hours. Did you want to fuck now?” She turns on her side to face him fully, and he mirrors her, resting his hand on her hip, rubbing her skin affectionately with his thumb.

“No, I want you to sit on my face so I can practice that way. One time with you facing me, and another with you facing away.”

“Okay, just…I need a minute.”

“Sure, take your time.” He smiles softly, keeping his hand on her hip. “You probably hear this all the time, but you have a beautiful body.”

“I do hear that a lot, but it feels more genuine coming from a nice guy like you.” She chews on her bottom lip for a moment. “Whoever you’re practicing all this for is going to be a lucky girl.”

The air in the room feels tense for a beat.

“Okay, we’ll start off with me facing you.” Candy says. “This way is all about the woman. Then, we’ll do it with me facing away from you and I’ll suck you off at the same time. It’s good to practice staying focused on your girl’s pleasure while she’s pleasuring you.”

“That sounds good.” He lays back, a little nervous. “There’re so many different ways to do this. Like, should I just stick my tongue out flat and let you grind against it? Should I just suck on your clit? Should I have you rub against my nose while you ride my tongue?”

“You’re over thinking it, Harry. It’s up to the girl you’re fucking to set how she wants it. Personally, I’d love it if you put your tongue up inside me. I’ll rub my own clit.”

“What should I do with my hands?”

“You can squeeze and smack my ass, rub my rim.”

“Fuck.” He murmurs. “Get on me, now.”

Candy swings her leg over Harry’s face and hovers over him for a moment. She squeaks when he pulls her down. He licks up inside her slowly, letting her adjust to the muscle, then he pulls her down even more until she’s fully seated on top of him. She spits onto her fingers and lazily rubs her clit as she grinds down on his tongue. Harry curls it and flicks it inside her, moaning at the taste. His large hands squeeze her ass, giving her a few swats before spreading her apart and rubbing the pad of his thumb around her rom.

“Ah, fuck.” Her head tips back and free hand buries in his hair. “You can put your thumb in, if you want.” Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He gently works his thumb into her tight hole. “Yeah, just like that.” She moves her hips in slow circles, reveling in the way Harry’s moaning and groaning underneath her. She’s soaked and he’s slurping on her. “I…I think I’m getting close already, wow.” This never happens. It usually takes her a while to start feeling that familiar tingle at the base of her spine, but she’s rubbing her clit faster and moving on Harry’s tongue faster, and then she’s screaming. “Shit, Harry!” She yanks roughly on his hair as she comes, and she comes hard. She goes to move off him, but he keeps her seated, mumbling something against her. “What?” She asks breathlessly.

“M'not done yet.” He says, briefly coming up for air before diving back in. He sucks her clit with one last pop, then pets her ass. “Okay, you can turn around now.”

Candy swivels around and leans forward, pressing her hands into the mattress between Harry’s legs.

“There’s a few ways to do this, but I can’t stress this enough, everyone is different, so I’m going to tell you how I like it.”

“Okay.” He presses a kiss to one of her cheeks, and it makes her face sizzle. Why did he have to be so cute. “Tell me how you like it.”

“Fuck me from behind with your fingers, bury your face in my ass, and use your free hand to rub my clit.” She slips her hand into his briefs to pull his cock out. “How do you like your blow jobs?”

“Sloppy, don’t…don’t be pretty about it.”

Candy responds by spitting on the tip and taking it into her mouth. Harry’s mouth falls open, loving the way her hot mouth feels on him. But he has a mission to accomplish. He’s working on building a tolerance. He runs his fingers between her wet folds before slipping them inside. From there, he does exactly how she told him: his mouth works her ass, his fingers pound into her g-spot, and his free hand rubs her clit.

“Ohhhh, shit, Harry.” She gasps around his cock, choking a little. She pulls all the way off and jerks him.

“Candy.” He moans. “Did I find it, sweetheart?”

“Yes, you did, yes, yes, yes!” She moves back against him to meet his thrusts, then gets her mouth back on him. She takes him down her throat, gagging around him, and using that spit to jerk him a little faster.

Their bodies are so in sync. They’re both wet and drippy for the other, both spurring the other on. The second Harry feels Candy spasming around his fingers, he lets himself come, and Candy swallows all of it, sucking him dry before rolling off onto her back.

“Holy shit.” She breathes.

“Yeah.” He gives her ankle a fond squeeze as his chest heaves. “You’re something else.”

“You’re unreal.”

“You taste really good.”

“So do you.” She turns her head to look at the clock on the wall. “You have me for hour and a half. What do you feel like doing?”

“We just did all of that in thirty minutes?” He sits up. “That was really fast.”

“Yes, it was.” She giggles. “But it was good.”

“Come here, come sit in my lap.” Candy does so, wrapping her legs around his waist. “You’re so beautiful.” He runs his thumb over her bottom lip.

“And you’re sweet.” She hugs him, resting her face in the crook of his neck. “How come you booked me up for the rest of my shift?”

“Because I could.”

“Oooh, well, aren’t you special.” She pulls back and smirks at him. “You know, most of the people that come here are wealthy, so that doesn’t impress me.”

“I wasn’t trying to. You asked me a question, and I gave you an honest answer. I don’t like doing these types of things with people and then leaving immediately after. I needed extra time for this.” He lets himself fall back, keeping her to lay mostly on top of him.

“Oh.” She snuggles into him. “Well, I rarely get to cuddle, so this is fine by me.”

“Do you like this line of work? I’ve always admired sex workers. This isn’t an easy job at all. It takes a lot of courage and bravery.”

“Thank you for saying that. I’m one of the luckier ones. I’m not on drugs, can’t be because they do regular blood tests. I have a salary, a retirement account, and other benefits. It could be a lot worse.”

“Do you also provide escort services?”

“No. Some girls do, but I don’t. I like to keep everything related to this job in this room.”

“Is this all you do for work, or is this a side hustle?”

“Nope, full time, hence being a salaried worker.

“Oh, duh.” He chuckles, then reaches for one of the throw blankets to drape over them. “So, how’d you end up here?”

“Most of us are all a thin line away from being homeless. My job let me go when COVID first happened. You can only stay on unemployment for so long. All these companies say no one wants to work, but no one wants to hire either. And, I’m sorry, but I’m not settling. I should be paid enough that I shouldn’t need a side hustle. One of my friends who ended up having a sugar daddy told me about this place. I started out part-time, just to pay some bills, but they told me some people wanted repeat appointments, then I was getting regulars, then I was getting paid more. It all sort of just fell into place, and I didn’t look back.”

“What were you doing for work beforehand?”

“I was a backend coder for a major financial firm. They got rid of the entire department and contracted out their cyber needs from a company that specialized in that because it made more sense fiscally.” She rolls her eyes. “It was for the best, I hated it.”

“And you love this?”

“Honestly, I like it a lot better than sitting behind three monitors all day, five days a week. I’ve actually gotten in better shape from having sex full time. Do I have to fake it for most guys, yeah, but none of them are mean to me. They just want someone to make them feel special for a little while, and I’ve found that I like having the power and ability to do that.”

“You have more control over your own life.”

“Exactly.” She looks up at him. “What about you? What do you do?”

“I…sort of own an airline company.”

“How do you sort of own an airline?”

“I’m a nepo baby.” He smiles sheepishly. “My father stepped down a few years ago so I could move up while he was still around. I’m lucky and fortunate, so I try not to complain about things too much. So many people have it far worse than I do.”

“Wait a second…Harry S…” She sits up and scrambles away from him. “You’re Harry Styles!”

“Is that a bad thing?” He sits up. “Shit, please don’t tell me you’ve fucked my dad.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. But you have fucked one of my friends. You used to date Jennifer Harris, right?”

“Yeah, years ago.”

“Fuck! And now I have to keep this insane secret from her. She’d be so pissed off, Harry, like, you have no idea.”

“If you’re such good friends with her, then hoe come we’ve never met prior to this?”

“I didn’t become friends with her until after you two parted ways. She told me so much about your relationship. She never mentioned anything about you being bad in bed, though.”

“I never said I was bad in bed either, I just needed some help getting better at one aspect of it.” He gets off the bed and starts pulling his clothes back on. “How, uh, how is she? I know she got married a year or so ago.”

“She’s doing well. Her and her husband are a great couple. They’re trying for a baby.”

“I’m glad she found someone that could give her the attention she deserves. I wasn’t very good at that. I also wasn’t ready to settle down, and she was. How did you two become friends?”

“She owns the lingerie store I buy stuff from.”

“Ohhhh, right.” He nods, zipping his pants and buttoning his shirt. “That makes sense. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You clearly didn’t know it was me. You didn’t look at any pictures from when she and I were together?”

“Your hair was longer! And you weren’t as, I don’t know, beefy.”

“Thank you?” He questions with a smirk. “Is this going to be a problem? Because I’d like to be able to come back and see you again.” He makes his way over to her and tilts her head up by curling his finger under her chin.

“But…why? You did so well today.”

“I wanna see if it’s just as good for a repeat performance. And then I’d need to come back again after that to test out some of the other things I do during sex so I can get an honest review.” He leans down and brings his lips to the shell of her ear, “And I just know you’re dying to know what it’ll feel like to have my cock deep inside you.”

“Jesus Christ.” She clutches at his shoulders. “You’re going to put me in a very difficult situation.”

“You can say no to my appointment requests, but I’d be very disappointed if you did.” He pecks her lips. “I know you want to see me again.” He pecks her lops again, a little longer this time. “Hm? Wanna see me again, Candy?” He takes her bottom lip between his and he cups her jaw, licking into her mouth. She moans against him. Before she has a chance to really kiss him back, he pulls away. “God, I’d love to spit right into this pretty mouth.”

“You can.”

“Next time, I will.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. I’ll come back soon.”

Harry leaves the room, walks down the hall, and out of the suite. The second he’s back down on the street, he sucks in a breath and turns into the alley to try and calm himself down. He’s never that confident and forward with women. But she brought something out of him. When she mentioned Jennifer…it made something snap. He fucking hates Jennifer. So, if he inadvertently makes her suffer by having sex with her good friend, then so be it. Because Candy isn’t someone that Harry is going to be able to stay away from. Not after they shared something so wonderfully intimate.

//

Harry thought he’d be able to book another appointment to see Candy again way sooner, but his jaw hangs open as he looks at her availability on the app. Since he’s come in once, he’s been invited into the company’s app so he can book meetings on his own.

Two weeks. Candy doesn’t have another opening for two entire weeks. He grumbled to himself and books her entire evening on the first day he sees she’s free. And for good measure, he books out a couple other appointments so he’s not left scrambling. And for each one, he maxes out the five hour limit.

One time with this woman and he’s already pussy whipped!

The two weeks are torture. He’s jittery and agitated at work. Running it off in the gym does very little for him.

But finally, the day has come to see her again. Harry goes after work and follows the sale procedures, only this time, he’s not at all embarrassed. When his name is called, he all but sprints to Candy’s door and punches in the code. He doesn’t see her right away, but then, there she is, coming out of the bathroom in a red, silk teddy. She gives him a soft, almost shy, smile.

Harry closes the distance between them, cups her jaw, and kisses her deeply. It takes her by surprise, but it’s a welcomed one.

“Mm.” He pulls away and looks down at her before kissing her again. “Missed these lips.”

“I’m sorry I was so busy.” She circles around him to take his suit jacket off, sauntering to the closet to hang it up. “I have a few snowbirds, and they all decided to basically come see me at once before they all go back to Florida or whatever.”

“You fuck guys that much older than you?”

“Mhmm.” She loosens his tie and gives it a tug to slip it off, placing it on the back of one of the chairs. “It’s no so bad.” Her eyes find his. “Let’s talk about you. How have you been?” She leads him to the couch so they can sit and chat.

“Work’s been stressful, but it sort of always is. I had to hire a couple of corporate level people, that’s never fun.”

“What’d they do to deserve being fired?”

“They were sexually harassing a few interns, thinking they could get away with it.” He scoffs. “They thought wrong, let me tell you. I survey just about all of the security footage daily, and I saw the same two idiots bothering these young women who could be their daughters, and so I had HR get involved, and I fired them both without severance pay. Which means they’ll probably try to sue for wrongful termination, thinking it’s all hearsay, but they don’t know about the footage, so joke’s on them.”

“And the interns, how are they?”

“I think they’ll be alright. I spoke with all of them and apologized profusely. I told them that behavior like that didn’t trickle down from me, and that I take it all very seriously. They’re all continuing with their internships, which is good. I would have felt terrible if they couldn’t get credit for this.”

“Wow, I think you’re the first ethical CEO in corporate history.”

“There’s nothing ethical about capitalism.” He says lowly, shaking his head. Candy’s hand gripped his knee and she moaned.

“Don’t stop, I’m close.” She pops an eye open, and they both burst into a fit of giggles. “Handsome, kind, and self aware? Damn, you’re the whole package.”

“I’ve thought about you a lot over these last two weeks.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and I made sure to book out some other appointments in advance.”

“I saw that.”

“Does it bother you that I book the longest blocks I can?”

“Nah, I get paid the same amount no matter how many appointments I have a week.” She chews on her bottom lip. “Last time, you mentioned that you wanted to show me how you do other things…”

“I want your honest feedback. Can we go lay on the bed for a bit?”

“Of course.” They both climb onto the bed and Harry pulls Candy to rest her head on his chest. “I like your cologne.” She mutters.

“Thank you.” He murmurs, his eyes fluttering closed. “Would it be weird if we took a quick catnap?”

“Not weird at all. I’ll set a timer for thirty minutes. Take your clothes off, we can get under the covers.”

When all is said and done, Harry turns Candy onto her side so he can spoon her. He wedges a leg between hers and sighs contently. A nap after a long day with a beautiful woman in his arms feels almost as good as when he had his tongue inside her pussy. Almost.

//

“Oh, God! You’re so good at this, fuck!” Candy moans out as Harry eats her from behind. She reaches behind herself to grip his hair and keep him close. “I’m almost there, don’t stop!” It’s not often Candy gets to have a genuine orgasm while being with her clients, so she’s taking full advantage. “Fuck!” She collapses to the bed after coming, and Harry trails kisses up her spine and along her shoulders. “You seriously have nothing to worry about. No notes.” She says as she catches her breath once Harry lets her roll onto her back.

“Good.” He smiles. “There’s something else I want to do today.” He tugs the front of her teddy down, exposing her breasts. He licks over one of her nipples, and Candy gasps. “Does this actually feel good?” He gives the sides of her breast to further pucker her nipple for him to flick his tongue over.

“Yes.” She threads her fingers into his hair as he takes more into his mouth, sucking roughly. A long moan escapes her. He travels to the other and does the same thing. “Can I please have your cock inside me?”

“No.” He sits up and pulls the teddy completely off her body, leaving her bare. “I want to eat you again.” He gets on his belly between her legs, wraps his arms around her thighs, and off he goes.

“You’re killing me.” She whines, throwing her forearm over her eyes. Harry slips two of his fingers inside of her, and she sighs with relief.

“Better?”

“Want your cock.” She sits up on her elbows. “Why won’t you give it to me?”

“Because I don’t have to.”

“You’re a sadist, you know that? You come off all timid and shy, but all of that hides a devious side to you.”

“A sadist wouldn’t let you come at all.” He kitten licks her clit before sucking it between his lips. “Is that how you want it to be?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I just need…more.” He slips a third finger inside of her. “More.”

“I don’t think your little pussy could handle it.” He lets her legs go and crawls up her body, slotting his mouth over hers. His fingers are still inside her. He starts pumping them shallowly and lets the heel of palm beat into her clit. “God, listen to you. So fucking wet for me. Do you get this wet for your other clients?”

“No, never!” She whimpers. “I usually need to use lube.”

“Poor thing.” He pouts down at her. “Can feel you squeezing around me, are you getting close?”

“Yes.”

“Are you gonna come? Gonna come for me, sweet girl?”

“Oh, fuck!” Her hips move upward and then she’s coming. She twitches around his wrist a few times before he pulls his fingers out. He sucks them into his mouth and moans.

“Do you call yourself Candy because you know you taste like it?”

“Stop.” She chuckles. “Pussy does not taste sweet.”

“Yours does.” He presses a kiss to her forehead, then looks down at the painful bulge in his briefs. “Would you mind, uh, sucking me off?” A blush creeps over his cheeks.

Candy smiles and grabs a pillow to kneel on before getting off the bed. She spreads Harry’s legs and pulls his briefs down. He leans back on his hands and lets her get to work how she wants. His head rolls back the first time she swallows around him. He’s in absolute heaven, and from the sounds of her moans, it’s safe to say she is too.

//

Every meeting started the same. Candy would take Harry’s suit jacket and loosen his tie. Then, they’d sit on the couch, and slowly move to the bed as they talked. Sometimes Harry wanted a quick nap, and other times he was ready to start right away. He still hadn’t properly fucked her, but he’s fucked her with several dildos and vibrators. He wanted to work on those skills just the same. He even fucked a plug in and out of her ass.

They’d been going at it for at least two months at this point. He still didn’t know her real name, but he knew a ton of other things. He enjoyed talking with her, probably more than he should. Because when Harry goes out on a few different blind dates, he finds himself comparing every woman to Candy. The hollow look in their eyes while they smiled and nodded did nothing for him.

On this particular evening, Harry showed up with a bouquet of flowers for his girl.

“Harry, this was so thoughtful, thank you.”

“Can we talk for a minute?” He takes her hand, and they go to the couch. “I’ve tried going out with other women, and none of them are you. I know I don’t even know your real name, but…”

“Harry, I know where you’re going with this, and the answer is no. I’ve never accepted any sugar baby offers for a reason. At some point, you’ll get bored, kick me out, and then I’ll be shit out of luck. I don’t want a man directly paying my way. It would make me feel powerless and trapped.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask you, like, at all.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I wanted to know if I could take you out on a real date sometime, when you’re not on the clock as Candy.”

“I can’t do that either, Harry.” She puts her hand on his knee, giving it a squeeze. “I keep these worlds separate. Men can’t handle that I fuck other men, they always ask me to quit, and-“

“I would never ask you to do something like that. If you ever end up leaving this place, it should be because you want to.”

“Jennifer is my best friend.”

“She and I broke up ages ago. Pretend like she’s not a factor in this. Would you go out on a date with me?”

“I…” she bites into her bottom lip.

“If no really is your answer, I’ll respect it, and we can keep things as they are, but…I have to be honest with you…every time I’m around you, I get this feeling. And it’s only with you. I wanna know if you feel it too.”

“I feel very strongly for you, more so than I have for any other client.”

“I’m so taken with you, sweetheart.” He cups her cheek and runs the pad of his thumb along her skin. “I think about you all the time, from the second I wake up in the morning. Just the thought of you has me tossing and turning and has my eyes rolling back. You have this affect on me, and you fascinate me, and I want to know everything about you. You’re so sweet, you’ve completely stolen my appetite.”

“Fuck, Harry.” She moves to straddle his lap, and she wraps her arms around him. “I’m so wet right now.” She says lowly into his ear.

“Don’t.” He grips her chin. “Don’t try to distract me.”

“I was just being honest the same way you just were. You…you’d really be okay with me continuing to work here if we started up?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “You don’t get this turned on by any of your other clients, do you?”

“Nope, only by you.”

“Then I think I could learn to compartmentalize things. This is work, not play.”

“Exactly.”

“Would I still be able to come see you here?”

“Yes, but don’t go taking up all my open slots. That kind of possessiveness doesn’t turn me on.”

“Noted.” He smiles softly. “So, I was thinking, for our first date, I could bring you home with me some night, and I could cook for you.”

“You cook?”

“It relaxes me. I can make whatever you like.”

“I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me. That sounds nice.” She bites into her bottom up. “Say things go well, and we start dating regularly…what will you tell me people about me?”

“Whatever you’d want me to tell them. I can be as open or as private as you like. I’ll admit, I was embarrassed the first time I came here, but I’m finding that these types of places are way more common than I thought.”

“You could say we met at work. Not a total lie. When I’ve dated in the past, I usually tell the guy to tell others that I’m a masseuse.”

“Are you comfortable with that?”

“Yeah. It feels like the most accurate thing to say. I provide pleasure and relaxation.”

“You sure do.” He smirks. She rolls her eyes playfully at him. “Are you free tomorrow night for a date?”

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Great.” He trails kisses along her jaw line and nips at her earlobe. “Bring an overnight bag. I’m gonna give my cock tomorrow night, and if I do my job right, you won’t be able to walk afterwards.”

[zoe-oneesama]

I wonder what change would've you make Gabriel if he was an actual effective sympathetic villain the show seem to think instead of the pathetic display of canon. On the other note, what would've you make to actually have Emilie be this saint like character the show keep saying she is

To start, there'd have to be lines that Gabriel just *wouldn't* cross. No akumas that target his son, for starters, no "Chat Blanc" scenario where he finds out Chat's identity and then beats the shit out of him, and no making ridiculous decisions for Adrien like deciding his girlfriend.

Season 5 Gabriel cannot exist, it was actually inSANE of the writer's to put the worst version of him on display...and then play him off as the hero. Like, wut? WHAT?!

I fully admit that in the earlier seasons, I didn't consider Gabriel an abuser. I considered him a dick, but abuser felt too...top shelf of a word to use, though I also contend that his behavior felt like the starting signs. Mostly I just considered him pathetic and like Kids Tv Exaggerated Version of a Strict Parent.

But Season 5??? Uh, yeah, no discussion, this guy is an abusive dickbag and can burn in hell.

Just make it so the reason Hawkmoth fails as often as he does is because sometimes he holds back. Sometimes he gets close to the line and remembers his wife and just can't make himself do something SO heinous that his wife would be disappointed.

As for ACTUALLY selling the Emilie is a Saint Mom, it's super easy. Just have flashbacks. Where she's interacting with her husband and child and sorta not girlfriend? Like, they revealed these video recordings of Emilie in SEASON 5! It took FIVE SEASONS for us to hear Emilie's voice from Emilie herself! (Amelie doesn't count)

And, uh, maybe as a writer think about what you're implying with the things you include in your story. Like, maybe EITHER have Adrien not ever have a birthday party OR have his mom missing for only a year, so it doesn't seem like Emilie *also* didn't care about his birthday. Just, you know. Little things like that that don't accidentally inform us of her character.

[vitentia]

DEAR DIARY, DAY TWO OF HAVING A GIRLFRIEND….MIGHT DIE.

pairings ━━ jackson!ellie williams x reader

warnings ━━ tooth rotting fluff I fear

synopsis ━━ you like Ellie, ellie likes you, she grows enough tit to ask you out and surprise! you said yes! yet somehow you’re more nervous around your girlfriend than when she was your crush…AGH!

authors note ━━ did I go ghost for a year? yes. did I hear someone ask for more fluff/angst amidst freaktober on tumblr? also yes. I have come to provide🫡

IMPORTANT note — if you wanna request an Ellie or Abby fic, just pm me! I think coming up with all the fics on my own is the reason I burnt out but send me any ideas you have that aren’t smut bc I SUCK at writing that. Im also considering writing for arcane?? So yeah!

Cleaning horse shit isn’t the sexiest job in the world, which is why you were eternally grateful your girlfriend had been assigned to go on patrol with Tommy this morning. Even the thought of “your girlfriend” sent shivers down your spine and a red hot blush on your cheeks. You sniffled and wiped your cheek against your shoulder, conveniently the jacket your girlfriend, Ellie, had given you last night.

Again, you fought back a smile as the words “my girlfriend, ellie” popped into your head. Just 48 hours ago you were accepting the fact that you might have to yearn for the brunette from afar for the rest of your lives, and today you were biting your lips trying not to look too happy shoveling actual shit.

“Hey girlie!” Called out the man in charge, his big gut making it’s way into the shed before his head did as he leaned against his favorite horses stead. “You’ve been relieved. Tommy and Ellie are on their way back, just put the girls back where they belong and I’ll feed them, get it?”

“Got it.”

“Good.” He replied quickly before raising the pitch of his voice and cooing down at the large horse between his palms like a baby.

You snickered at his actions but couldn’t resist the speedy pace you walked at as you grabbed your hanging bag and ran towards the shed bathroom. As soon as you locked the door behind you, you immediately shoved off your almost knee length rubber boots and changed into your cutest (aka least creased) boots. Despite not having any perfume like they did back then, you did make sure to grab a special bar of soap before you left your house and scrubbed the lavender scent into your arms like your life depended on it. Looking in the dirty mirror, you tried to vaguely make out whether or not you looked presentable. You tried lowering the v-cut shirt you were wearing but immediately shook your head and decided against it.

Just as you were in between hyping yourself up and finding an escape route, the guards on top shouted out, stating that the doors were opening.

You were a nervous wreck. Constantly pushing your hair in front of your forehead and then behind your ear while simultaneously walking towards the front of Jackson where your girlfriend would be making an entrance.

With the sun beaming behind her head and shining her brown locks into a beautiful golden color, you had to raise your hand above your eyes to protect yourself. Has she always been this beautiful or are the God’s reminding me how perfect my girlfriend is?

“Millers! You’re back early.” A nearby card player called out, kicking his feet back against a wooden barrel with a cigarette hanging half out of his mouth.

“Yeah well, Ellie was killin’ them things left and right. Would’ve thought she had somewhere to be.” Tommy joked, sliding off his horse and giving you the reigns with a smile. For a second, your heart skipped a beat, believing she might’ve told him on their journey.

“Hey, if you’re a lousy shot, just say that.” Ellie teased him back with a shrug, remaining on her horse with no movement towards getting down. You looked up at her in confusion but as soon as your eyes connected, you immediately looked away, feeling your face burn.

“Yeah, next time I go out on patrol I know who to call.” The man chuckled

“Thank you, man.” Tommy beamed

“Not you, dipshit.”

You and Ellie let out a surprised cackle, and while you tried covering yours up with a cough as Tommy glared in your direction, Ellie couldn’t hold back her hearty laugh. She slapped her thigh and wiped an invisible tear from her eye as Tommy rambled on. While her uncle turned his anger to the card player, she caught your eye and motioned her head towards the stables.

“Lead the way.”

You nodded and lowered your gaze again, mentally freaking out as you guided Tommy’s horse back into her stable with Ellie following close behind on her own. Whilst you removed her gear gently, you could hear the clanging of Ellie following suit behind you. And when she finished, she simply watched you.

“You’re so gentle with them.” You jumped at her words, not expecting her to be so close as she leaned against the entrance of the stable. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She chuckled lightly.

“No, you’re good I, uh, I have this…idea that they’re so on edge from being outside that they can’t really tell when it’s time to relax and when it’s time to work. So I just try to make the transition easier, you know? No loud noises, extra treats, stuff like that..” You answered, giving the ol’ girl a nice rub on her sides.

Ellie hummed and leaned her body backwards, looking both ways to see if anyone was around before stepping into the stable you were in. Her steps were slow as she approached you and you resisted the urge to step away, not for any reason besides you literally thought you might combust being this close to her.

She stood in front of you, eyes staring deeply into yours while her hands remained at her sides. “I’ve been thinking about you all morning.” She said in a low voice.

“Really?”

“Of course.” Her head lowered to find your hands, she clasped both of your hands in both of hers as she admired you. “How could I not?”

Your mind was screaming, blaring alarms, and throwing burning papers in the air as the people in your head attempted to regulate…well everything.

You let out an airy chuckle and looked down bashfully. “Well, you’re lucky you didn’t see me an hour before.” She gave you a confused look, so you continued. “I was cleaning up after the horses.”

Ellie looked up at the ceiling and thought about the vagueness of your words before a smile grew on her cheeks. She lifted her hand to cup her cheek to look her in the eye. “I think you would’ve looked beautiful anyway.”

“Shoveling horse shit?” You snorted

She shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t get in your mouth, no harm, no foul, right?”

“Ewww!” You whined as Ellie laughed at your reaction. You shivered at the thought. “Too early.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” She surrendered, admiring your entire face for a minute before looking behind her quickly. “Hey…” she whispered, almost nervous in a way.

“Hey.”

She moved closer to you, reaching up to stroke your cheek and hoping you wouldn’t notice the way her hand shook the entire way up. “Can I get a kiss?”

Your heart leaped. Your vocal chords were nowhere to found, so you attempted a simple nod. But Ellie smiled at you and shook her head.

“Can I hear you say it?”

You gulped. “Please kiss me, Ellie.”

With a wide smile, she leaned in and connected your lips so gently, you felt like you were being kissed by a fairy. She let you both grow comfortable in the kiss before pulling away lightly, giving you the same chance, and leaning in once more when you chased after her lips. The two of you remained in a tight embrace, neither pushing the others boundary too much but putting enough pressure to know she were there. For a minute, you forgot where you were.

“Hey girlie!” A voice boomed

The two of you pulled away in shock, looking between each other before you quickly looked around at your surroundings and hurriedly threw a brown bag in Ellie’s direction. She caught it in both arms before spinning around to face the burly old man who sauntered over.

“Williams. What are you doing in my shed?” He questioned her.

You popped out from the other side of the horse and patted her side. “Sorry, sir. She wanted to give the girls some treats for their hard work out there.”

He looked between you two suspiciously before crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Ellie with a look you couldn’t put your finger on. “So you’re the one who’s been sneaking my girls extra snacks, eh?”

Ellie’s mouth opened and closed for a second before sighing and handing him the bag as if she’d been caught. “Yep, it’s me. Sorry, man.”

He sucked his teeth and snatched the bag out of her hand, reaching inside to grab a red apple and bite into it. “You’re lucky you’ve saved my ass more times than I can count, Williams.” He pointed at her and then to you. “And you, stop bein’ so damn nice. Y’all are gonna fatten my horses up. Now, get.”

You and Ellie swiftly made your way out of the horse shed, walking side by side inconspicuously throughout Jackson. Your hands occasionally bumped each other and you both resisted the urge to grab it. Ellie, because she didn’t want her business out to the whole world, and you, because your hands were probably dripping from how sweaty they felt.

You’d never felt this nervous around anyone. The secrecy of your relationship made it all the more wild. And yeah, it would be nice for everyone to know that Ellie is yours.

It’s also just nice being able to tell yourself that Ellie fucking Williams is your girlfriend.

[eringobragh420]

♣️ Pairing — Damian Priest ♥︎ f!Reader (no use of y/n) ♣️ Summary — Damian’s girlfriend is pissed off. ♣️ Word Count — 2.3k 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. D/s undertones, rough, unprotected p in v, slapping, cum. 18+ ♣️ Notes — Spanish translations are at the end of the story provided by Google Translate. ♣️ Taglist — If you'd like to be added, please click here! ♣️ MASTERLIST, KINK LIST

“Don’t fucking touch me, Priest,” she says, yanking her arm out of his grasp before shoving his stupid, giant body as hard as she can. He stumbles back a couple steps, arms spread, palms to his girlfriend, and the unadulterated befuddlement painted on his face is enough to make her head explode.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Damian chuckles.

“What’s wrong with me?” she screams. Damian’s smirk is gone in an instant and his muscles stiffen, bringing him to his full terrifying height, but she can’t back down now. Not after what she just saw. Fuck him and the click he claims. “The fuck is wrong with you?” she continues yelling. They’re drawing attention—well, she is, anyway—but she couldn’t care less. She wants these people—his friends, coworkers, bosses, fans—to know exactly how much Damian Priest sucks, what kind of man is, what kind of boyfriend he is.

“Come here,” he grumbles, snatching her bicep, squeezing hard enough she knows there will be a bruise left behind, and he lifts, nearly bringing her feet off the ground, making it completely impossible for her to escape this time. She feels like her shoulder is dislocating the closer they get to the locker room, and she’s nearly flung into the door when it opens unexpectedly.

“Everything … okay here?” Seth Rollins asks, chocolate eyes passing back and forth between the couple.

“Everything’s fine,” Damian roars, swinging the tiny woman inside the empty locker room. As she goes by, she lifts her middle finger at Rollins, who instantly backs away, hands up, not wanting any trouble. Damian releases his death grip on her arm before kicking the door closed behind him. “Okay.” He sets his hands on his trim hips, shrugging, big eyes and raised brows. “Seriously. What’s your problem?”

Her lips purse as she massages her arm and considers his question. On one hand, she’s pissed because the asshole should know what he did. On the other hand, she could accuse him only to have him deny it, and then what does she do? On the other, other hand—a much smaller, less significant, barely existing other, other hand—there’s a chance she’s wrong, and while it would be good news, she would be embarrassed, and their relationship would be damaged … if it isn’t already. But then the image from earlier flashes in her brain and, not only does she want to die a little, she believes she knows the truth, so decides to stay the course.

“You’re—” She clears her throat because suddenly it’s scratchy and it hurts much like the pain in her chest. “You’re cheating on me.”

The allegation hangs heavily in the ether. She feels stupid actually saying the words. She never, in a million years, would have believed him to be the type, but she knows what her eyes saw. Rhea Ripley—the incomparable, exquisitely beautiful—Rhea Bloody Ripley in Damian’s strong arms, her muscular legs wrapped around his waist. They weren’t kissing, but they might as well have been, and somehow, in her crumbling mental capacity, that alone served as plenty of evidence for an affair.

“What?” Damian asks, the tone of his voice lowering several levels. “I’m—” He pauses, shaking his head. “You think I’m cheating on you?”

“Yeah, Damian, you’re fucking cheating on me,” she replies with more force than she thought she was capable of.

He nods, plump lips forming a deep frown. “And you thought acting like a psychopath in front of everyone we know was the way to handle it?”

“I don’t hear you denying it,” she seethes, nostrils flaring. Her skin crawls at the thought of the two of them together. She wants to vomit imagining a life without her Papí. She just can’t fucking believe they’ve ended up here.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Damian replies, bending over to her height. “You’re talkin’ nonsense!”

“I saw you, Damian. I fucking saw both of you.”

He shakes his head, shoulders coming up to his ears as he considers her statement. And then it dawns on him—she watches in real time as the lightbulb flashes on above his stupid man bun. “Are you talkin’ about Rhea?”

Her mind is blank, erased like a math problem on a chalkboard, leaving her heart in control of her body—and right now?—that heart is fractured, splintering, promising to disintegrate at any given moment. She feels her feet moving of their own volition, closing the space between them. She stands before him for half a moment at less than half his height before reeling back and slapping him across the face. The palm of her hand erupts with fire, tears she’s been battling since the moment she witnessed the embrace now streaming freely down her contoured cheeks. Damian stands frozen, looking somewhere over her head. The muscles in his jaws flex as he clenches his teeth, inhaling long and hard through his nose. He opens his mouth to spin a web of lies, so she slaps him again before he can get started. She’s crying now because of the pain in her hand and the pain behind her ribcage, so she slaps him once again because it’s his goddamn fault. Damian catches her wrist as she makes another attempt, and this is a brand new pain.

“Mírame!” he bellows, backing her up until she slams into the nearest wall. She loses her breath a bit, but Damian places his free hand behind her head to prevent any impact. His grip on her wrist is unrelenting as he holds it against her chest. She is miniscule in this awkward embrace, her eyes looking everywhere but where he wants her to. But when he bends his knees and dips down to her level, ducking his head until he’s in her line of sight, she’s forced to meet his gaze. “I’m gonna make you pay for those slaps in a minute …” he cautions. His hand starts applying pressure to the back of her head. “But first I have to tell you, because for some reason you need to fucking hear it, I’m not cheating on you.” 

She swallows, having her breath stolen again because she feels the truth of his words vibrating her bone marrow. She also feels the shame and embarrassment of being wrong. With her free hand she struggles to unclamp his vice-like grip from her wrist, and having had enough of her shit, Damian grabs both wrists this time and smashes them into the wall above her.

“Do you hear me?” he carries on, with quite a bit more hostility than she’s used to, shoving his knee into the wall between her legs. His knee pad becomes a cushion for her pussy—he’s still in his gear, still sweaty, because she accosted him right after his match—elevating her to the toes of her sneakers, and she is completely at the mercy of Damian Priest.

“Yes,” she says through clenched teeth.

“Good. Do you believe me? Hmm?” Capturing both wrists in one hand, he cups her chin with the other and touches his cheek to hers. “Do you believe that I’d rather die than hear someone else call me Papí?” It’s actually an incredibly sweet confession, but the venom in his tone scorches the honey in his words.

She believes him. By all that is good and holy in this world, she believes him and she is equal parts mortified, thankful, and contrite. She’d allowed her imagination to run wild because of an act of love between close friends, never once considering having a civil conversation with either of them about how it clearly made her uncomfortable. Did she just cause a rift in their relationship? Contaminate it with her jealousy? How many people is she going to have to apologize to? Seth, for sure, although he usually deserves any middle finger aimed in his direction. Christ, what’s she gonna say to Rhea?

“Damian,” she whispers, doing everything she can to not sound pathetic, and if her own ears are to be trusted, she is failing miserably.

“No,” he interrupts her, “you started this. I’m gonna fucking finish it. Now answer me.”

She grits her teeth, rolling her hips unconsciously because the position he’s put her in isn’t all that comfortable, probably by design, and suddenly she remembers how and why she’s propped on her boyfriend’s thigh. Even the slightest friction renders a groan from her. Damian tilts his head, eyes unforgiving, a sable shade she’s never seen before, and she regrets having made any noise at all, no matter how unintentional. His cheek is transforming into a furious vermillion, and the guilt that washes over her is nearly unbearable. She has no hand left to play, not that she did in the first fucking place, and she resigns herself to the punishment she’s about to receive. Well-deserved punishment, she understands.

“Yes,” she breathes, his eyes boring into her, chipping away any residual resolve she might have left inside.

“¿Si, que?” he booms, as if he expected the incorrect response. His anger hasn’t abated.

She can’t feel her fingers anymore and she’s struggling to maintain balance on Damian’s thigh. The slightest lean this way or that sends jolts of pleasure throughout her body, and it’s a losing battle trying to keep the satisfaction off her face. “Yes, Papí,” she says, “I believe you.”

He eyes her for a long moment, searching her face for any clue she might be lying or still angry. She keeps her own eyes open and on him, seemingly baring her soul before him, feeling more vulnerable now than she has in her entire life. At last he pushes away from her and the wall, releasing her wrists, removing his thigh from between her legs, and maybe she misses that last part a little bit.

“Now take those off—” He points at her denim shorts. “—and bend the fuck over.” And then he moves his arm to the right, pointing at a giant WWE trunk on wheels wedged against the corner of the room. She knows her place, and she has her orders.

She kicks her shorts toward him, standing before him in nothing but a pair of Nike hightops, a white thong, and a t-shirt-turned-tube-top that demands the audience to ALL RISE. He doesn’t even look at her body before nodding toward the trunk, and Jesus Christ, she’s in so much trouble. She passes him while rubbing her wrists and when she’s standing less than a foot from the trunk, she realizes she’s too short for this fucking thing too. She glances at Damian over her shoulder, and he’s stomping toward her, and her heart jumps into her throat. She hops onto the trunk, tips of her shoes barely kissing the floor just like when she was straddling Damian’s thigh.

The smack to her right ass cheek echoes throughout the locker room, same with the slap to her left, and she yelps.  Damian grabs her hair and pulls, arching her back into a spine-busting half-circle. He lets go, but before she can fall forward, one of his huge hands clamps over her mouth and holds her in position. With the other, he wrenches at her thong to pull it aside—she hears the material rip at the same time—then bends her leg at the knee and props it onto the trunk beside her.

“You know, the jealousy is kinda sexy on you,” Damian comments. Now she feels his hand working at his pants as it bumps against her sore ass. Then comes a different kind of smacking as he swats the sensitive skin with the underside of his rigid cock. He traces the head along both cheeks and along the crack, on down until she feels the huge, blunt head at her soaking entrance. “But don’t you ever fucking slap me again.”

Without warning, he is wholly sheathed inside her, his hips slamming into hers. She cries out from behind his hand, clutching his wrist with one hand as the other claws at the trunk in a desperate search for leverage to launch herself away. Damian is not a small man, in any way, shape, or form, so he’s always allowed her a few minutes to get used to his size. Not this time. This is her penance. He squeezes her hip, in full control of her body, and he’s simply using her pussy to get off now, without regard for her pleasure. She feels almost like a fleshlight, but her hormones are confused because she’s wet as fuck and, whether he likes it or not, she’s liable to get off just from him fucking her.

Damian stretches across her backside, her spine still bowed, and his teeth scrape across the shell of her ear as he grunts, “Say you’re fucking sorry.” He removes his hand from her mouth.

She gulps oxygen before panting, “I’m sorry, Papí. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He kisses her sweaty neck and sighs, hanging his head over her shoulder in unison with slowing the pummeling of her pussy. “I’m sorry, too. Lo siento, mi vida.” His rhythm starts speeding up following several moments. “But I am gonna cum in this pussy,” he advises, standing up straight, gripping both hips. “And you are gonna walk outta here with it dripping down your thighs.”

“Yes, Papí.”

“Because I fucking love you.”

She groans, bucking back against him. “I love you, baby.”

One final thrust and he makes good on his promise. He even squeezes the base of his cock to make sure every drop is inside her before pulling out. He’s much more gentle with her now, his enormous hands sliding up her back to her shoulder and arm so he can assist her into a standing position. As soon as she turns to him, she grabs his face and pulls his lips to hers. Their kiss is long, deliberate, and by the time they’re finished, his hands are cupping her face and hers are clutching his neck, and goddamn it, she’s so fucking stupid. But love makes people do crazy things.

“Now what do I do?” she asks, holding up the tattered side of her thong. Damian inspects the damage, then takes the lacey material in both hands and rips it into several pieces, which fall one by one to the floor.

“Problem solved.”

જ⁀➴°⋆ Mírame — Look at me જ⁀➴°⋆ Si, que — Yes, what જ⁀➴°⋆ Papí — Daddy જ⁀➴°⋆ Lo siento — I'm sorry