#and it’s hard to feel like you’ve accomplished something when all you did was not do something. but you did!

[miss-morland]

dennis in dtamhd is so bpd recovery coded i feel so much about it <333333

[kyseya]

Ancient Mummy

Imagine working as an archaeologist for a museum. However things hasn’t been going so well lately and there are hardly any visitors during opening hours. Sadly, you’ll be forced to close multiple exhibitions and if conditions are not met, the entire museum might have to shut down.

But by some miracle, a new tomb has been discovered in Egypt; undisturbed, unexplored and completely untouched by humans for centuries. It’s said to be the grave of an ancient king- a pharaoh- who was betrayed and murdered by his own cousin.

It’s the perfect opportunity! Maybe you’ll find something that can bring back interest and by extension, save the museum.

You go along with a few other colleagues to the site in Egypt. The journey was a bit tough but it was a hindered percent worth it. With avid curiosity you explore alone and with the others, the different things to find inside the tomb; artifacts and additional discoveries. It’s all very interesting. Wanting to save the best for last, you finally get an in-person look at the grave itself- the sarcophagus.

You have already heard the main tale of the pharaoh within, so you are a little surprised that there is more to the story than you previously believed.

Over the entire stone coffin were multiple hieroglyphs, each one helping and becoming a story together. Your collegue read some inscriptions and told you a basic summary of what it’s about.

Centuries ago there was a king. He had a wife whom he adored more than anything. She was provided with riches, glory and honour. There was nothing he wouldn’t accomplish for her. The people saw the care he held for his wife and therefore both respected and feared her as well, since any ounce of rudeness might end up with their heads spiked on a pole. It was a punishment fitting for those who dare disrespect his queen.

Unfortunately tragedy struck- a disease, more specifically. It took the lives of many and left whole villages empty. That hardly mattered to the pharaoh though, all his focus went to his ill wife; she, too, had been snatched by death. Up until the moment of her demise the pharaoh spent all day and all night at her side, attentively worrying about her needs. When she was gone he was ruined. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t even have the energy to clean himself. What was the point? His beloved was gone so there wasn’t really anything left for him.

It was after this that everything took a turn. It appeared that the king had enough with laying around and decided to do something. There were records of him behaving strangely- even by ancient standards- and drabbling in dark magic. He was later overthrown by his brother, who ordered him to be buried alive. It was quite the terrifying penalty go give one’s sibling. The brother didn’t want the darkness to spread out into the world from the old pharaoh, so he locked him inside the sarcophagus and sealed him far away.

What a tragic story, you thought. Well it was back in the old times and a lot of things were practiced then that aren’t okay in modern day. You suppose it wasn’t the most horrible incident that have happened.

It hadn’t been long since your colleague told you the backstory of the tomb and its inhibitor, but now the others wants to get to the good part and open up the stone coffin. You don’t think it’s the best idea in the world- of course something like this needs to be examined closely and so on, but there is something special about the tomb.

Ever since you’ve arrived, you have had a strange feeling following you around. It’s hard to explain. You feel almost drawn to the sarcophagus or perhaps it’s because it feels as if it is looking back at you. You tried ignoring it, however, the feeling came back stronger than ever the moment the others began preparing to open it up.

You should have told them of your concerns. If you did, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

The first few seconds after opening it everything was fine. All was as it should be; people flocking around to see the discovery and fawn over it while being mindful of its fragility. Then it changed. Your colleague who had been the closest had suddenly been strangled by the thin, dirty arm belonging to none other than the ancient corpse that previously had been resting in death. Everyone was silent as her face turned blue from the lack of oxygen. It was only after she fell to the floor dead that people began panicking. It was hard to process what had just happened, after all.

There was chaos.

Folk ran around like chickens fleeing from a fox that’d managed to get inside the coop. In a way, that was exactly what was going on, though. You had watched as the mummified corpse sat right up and climbed its way out of the cold coffin. It stumbled on its bony legs and quickly found a cornered man and approached him. He screamed when the mummy grabbed ahold of his face and brought it before its own. The creature started sucking the life out of the man- literally.

The man who had previously been a healthy and active person was now shrivelled up like a raisin. His face was dry and wrinkled. He died soon afterwards, only a soft wheeze leaving his lips as he passed.

The opposite seemed to happen to the former-corpse, though. It attacked more and more people and for every kill, it appeared to revert to its original state- a man, pharaoh of an ancient kingdom. The flesh grew back and filled up in the right places and he seemed human again.

How can that be? He had been dead for centuries. Although, just about everything was pretty fucked up in this moment, so his make-over is the least important factor.

You backed into a corner. Your eyes followed the mummy’s every move, it was impossible to look away. There was hardly anyone left apart from you. The one person that was still there was getting attacked by the monster and it wasn’t long until they were reduced to nothing.

Now it was just you and the creature, and it appeared it knew that too.

It turned to look at you. The mummy had now completely reverted back into a man and he was nothing short of breathtaking(and very naked, but you tried not to think about it). It pained to to admit it but it was the truth. He was easily the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. His long, dark hair flowed when he stalked towards you. Despite his outer beauty, you couldn’t forget what you’d just witnessed him do.

Trembling, you pressed yourself against the wall. “Stay away.” you weakly mumbled.

‘This is it. My time is over.’

You closed your eyes in fear and braced yourself for the pain that would undoubtedly come; only it didn’t. Instead of death, a hand grazed your cheek. It was a light touch, one reserved for something valuable and fragile.

A raspy voice talked, “…My love..it is you..”

You had no idea what he said, it sounded like an ancient language. You had studied hieroglyphs but did not know anything about what speech might’ve sounded like. You decided to be brave and slightly opened your eyes.

The mummy was staring at you, but there was no malice or hatred in his expression. In fact, the only emotion you could find on his face was amazement, shock and….love? No, that can’t be. This is not some ‘lovers reunited’ situation.

“How can this be? Death took you and left me all alone- not that I hold you accountable, of course. I know you would never seek to hurt me.” the mummy kept muttering to himself. “Perhaps….the magic worked after all?”

His face brightened and he smiled gently at you. Whilst he happily went on about something, you became more confused than earlier. What the hell was going on? He committed multiple murders in one swoop and now, suddenly, he is acting like you’re friends talking about your day. He isn’t even human! Or at least not anymore, not really.

You voiced this opinion weakly, “Ummm, could you let me go?” You tried pulling away from his touch, uncomfortable at his caresses.

His brows furrowed at your reaction. From the look of it, he didn’t understand you any better than you did him. He focused at the subtle way you attempted to peel his hand off your arm. You let out a yelp when his arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you into his embrace.

He leaned down and whispered into your ear, petting your hair at the same time. “Wife, why do you seem unhappy at my presence? I do not understand. Are you not joyous at our reunion? I love you so, I cannot comprehend any reason why you would not wish to see me.”

Even if you didn’t know what he was saying, you could hear the sadness in his voice. The pain and desperation. No! You couldn’t feel sad for him. He had murdured multiple of your colleagues, he’s evil! Although, why hasn’t he killed you yet? It’s very strange indeed.

The mummy continued, “I can sense things are not as they used to be. Things are different now. Although I do not know the extent of it. However I am most certain of one thing; I have miraculously been reunited with my love and I do not plan on letting you fall through my grasp again.”

He held you in an almost suffocating hug.

“I shall make you my queen once more.”

[p0orbaby]

We No Speak Italiano

summary: you’ll never miss a day of Duolingo again

warnings: are language barriers and miscommunication warnings?

a/n: based on this request ! also thank you to @onsomenewsht for inflating my ego and helping navigate italian !

word count: 2.1k

-

Alexia looks at you like you’ve just dropped the biggest bombshell in the history of bombshells. Her eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape, and she’s got that look, like she’s trying to figure out how to assemble a piece of IKEA furniture with no instructions and half the screws missing.

“Estoy embarazada,” you say again, because you’re pretty sure that’s the right way to tell her you’re mortified after spilling your entire glass of wine on her brand-new sofa.

Your high school Spanish teacher would be so proud.

But instead of the expected response, maybe a nervous laugh or string of expletives, Alexia gasps, and her hands fly to her mouth like she’s just heard the Virgin Mary is back for round two. Her eyes flick down to your stomach and back up to your face. The calculation going on behind her eyes is something like 2 + 2 = 5, but you have no idea why.

“I… Oh my God,” she says, her voice all wobbly, like she’s about to cry. “I didn’t… I mean, this is… Are you okay?” She’s speaking in slow, deliberate Spanish now, like you’re suddenly a toddler and not a grown-ass woman who just spilled wine.

You blink at her. “Sí?”

“Madre mía”

-

It starts with a breakfast that makes no sense.

You wake up to the smell of something cooking in the kitchen, which is odd because Alexia barely knows how to operate a toaster without supervision. You stumble out of bed, groggy, and follow the scent of food.

What you find in the kitchen is nothing short of alarming: Alexia, apron-clad and concentrating so hard that she’s actually sticking her tongue out a little, is stirring something in a pot while a blender whirs ominously next to her.

“Buenos días,” she sings out when she notices you standing in the doorway. She’s all smiles, too bright for this early in the morning, and you immediately get suspicious.

“What’s going on?” you ask, eyes narrowing as you take in the sight of an overfull fruit bowl, a plate stacked with multigrain toast, and what appears to be an entire carton of eggs scrambled and ready to be eaten.

“Sit, sit,” she insists, pulling out a chair for you like you’ve suddenly developed a bad back and need assistance. “I made breakfast”

“You… made breakfast,” you repeat, eyeing the smoothie she pours into a glass and slides over to you. It’s an unsettling green color, like pond scum, and you’re not sure it’s fit for human consumption.

“Sí. You need to start your day with lots of nutrients.” She’s practically bouncing on her toes, like a Labrador eager to please.

You blink at the smoothie, then back at her. “Since when did you learn how to use the Nutribullet?”

She doesn’t answer directly, just gives you an encouraging smile that feels a little too close to a grimace. “Drink up. It’s good for you”

You take a tentative sip, and it’s like drinking liquid grass mixed with what you can only hope is kale. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“No!” She’s almost offended, but there’s a hint of nervousness in her voice that you can’t quite place. “It’s full of vitamins. Good for… energy”

You stare at her, but she just stares back, eyes wide and almost… expectant.

“Okay,” you say slowly, deciding to let this weirdness slide, for now. Maybe she’s on a trendy new health kick. Or maybe it’s an early birthday surprise gone wrong. Either way, you down the smoothie in a few brave gulps, trying not to think about the fact that it tastes like lawn clippings.

Alexia beams at you when you finish, like you’ve just accomplished something monumental. “Bien, bien. Now, sit tight. I’ll get the rest”

She practically skips back to the stove, where she starts piling eggs and toast onto a plate. You don’t even bother asking why she’s suddenly turned into Martha Stewart; you’re too busy wondering if you’ve somehow walked into a parallel universe.

It’s only later, after you’ve forced down an absurd amount of scrambled eggs, that she starts talking about how “important it is to stay healthy” and how she’s “going to take care of everything from now on,” which sounds sweet but also vaguely threatening.

You brush it off, chalking it up to some kind of weird phase. After all, everyone gets weird sometimes, right?

-

By day two, you’re starting to suspect that something is seriously wrong.

It begins with a confrontation over laundry, specifically, the fact that you’re not allowed to do any. At all.

“I’ve got it,” Alexia says, practically wrestling the basket out of your hands when you attempt to head for the washing machine.

You try to grab it back, but she holds it over her head like some ridiculous game of keep-away. “What is with you?”

“You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things,” she says, so earnestly it makes your brain short-circuit for a second.

“It’s a basket of clothes,” you argue, “not a sack of bricks. And I lift heavier things at the gym every day”

She shakes her head, not budging. “No. Let me do it. Just relax”

You gape at her, watching as she carries the laundry to the washing machine like it’s a ticking time bomb. She’s being weirdly gentle, placing the clothes in like they might shatter if she drops them too hard.

Then there’s the vitamin situation. You’re sitting on the freshly cleaned sofa, flipping through channels, when Alexia plops down beside you with a clatter of bottles and packages.

“Take these,” she says, handing you an array of supplements that looks like it belongs on the shelf of a pharmacy. There are multivitamins, folic acid, omega-3s, and some other pill you can’t even pronounce.

“What is this?” You hold up the folic acid like it’s a foreign object. “I’m not trying to hatch an egg here”

“Just take them,” she insists, pushing the bottles toward you. “They’re good for you”

“I’m pretty sure the only thing these are good for is draining my will to live,” you mutter, but she gives you that look, the one that’s all big hazel eyes and soft smiles, and you end up taking them just to get her to stop hovering.

When you try to go for a run that afternoon, she practically tackles you at the door.

“Maybe you should rest,” she suggests, like she’s trying to steer a toddler away from a busy street. “You know, take it easy for a bit”

“Take it easy?” You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not 80. And since when do you care about rest days? You’re usually the one dragging me to the gym at 6 AM”

She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again like a fish gasping for air. “It’s important to be careful”

“Careful of what, exactly?”

She hesitates, and you catch a flicker of something in her expression, nervousness, maybe? Fear? Whatever it is, it’s weirding you out. “Just… you know, careful”

You’re about to argue, but she gives you a kiss on the forehead, all soft and sweet, and you end up staying in just to avoid making things even more bizarre.

-

By day three, you’re done. Absolutely, 100% done.

It starts with the breakfast smoothies, again. This time, it’s a vibrant pink concoction that tastes like liquid chalk mixed with berries, and you’re pretty sure it’s the same smoothie you saw in a TV ad for pregnancy supplements once.

When Alexia starts lecturing you on the importance of hydration, while handing you a liter of water with electrolytes, you decide it’s time to get to the bottom of this.

“Alexia,” you say, setting the water down with a definitive thud, “we need to talk”

She glances at you, clearly nervous, and you know you’ve hit the jackpot. “About what?”

“About why you’re acting like I’m a fragile little baby bird that needs to be protected from all the big, scary things in life,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Her face flushes, and she avoids your gaze, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I just-, I want to take care of you”

“I appreciate that,” you say, softening just a little, “but you’ve gone full-on helicopter mode. And it’s freaking me out”

She looks at you for a long moment, then sighs like she’s been carrying the weight of the world.

“You didn’t tell me,” she says, voice soft like she’s whispering state secrets. “How long? I mean… when did you find out?”

You stare at her, a mental Rolodex flipping through every interaction you’ve had over the last few days, searching for the moment when you apparently lost your mind. “Find out what?”

“That you’re…” She trails off, wide-eyed, and then whispers, like she’s on a soap opera, “Pregnant”

There’s a beat of silence. And then another one. You feel like someone just turned off the power in your brain. You’re pregnant? No, no, no. Last you checked, you were just really bad at pouring wine.

“Wait,” you finally say, holding up a hand to stop her from offering you yet another pillow or maybe a foot rub. “Pregnant?”

Alexia’s eyebrows are practically in her hairline. “You said you’re embarazada”

Oh. Oh. Oh no.

“Alexia,” you say slowly, enunciating like you’re the one explaining the IKEA instructions now. “I said I’m embarrassed. Not pregnant. Embarrassed. Mortified. Humiliated because I thought I ruined your sofa with a ten-euro bottle of red”

She looks like she’s buffering, trying to load what you just said. “Embarazada… means pregnant, in Spanish”

Ah, the joys of faux amis, false friends, words that sound like they should mean the same thing but are actually waiting to sabotage you like linguistic landmines. Your high school Spanish teacher can take a hike.

You wipe away a tear, trying to catch your breath. “Alexia… I told you I was embarrassed. Imbarazzato doesn’t mean pregnant in Italian, it means mortified. Humiliated. Just how I felt when I spilled that wine and thought I ruined your furniture”

“Wait,” Alexia says, her brow furrowing in that cute, confused way you’d normally find adorable if she weren’t in the middle of thinking you’re harbouring a tiny human in your uterus. “So you’re not…?”

“No!” You laugh, a little hysterically because, seriously, how did you get here? “I’m not pregnant. We’re both women. How would that even work? I mean, unless there’s something about human biology I missed in school, I’m pretty sure that’s not in the cards for us”

Her eyes widen as the realisation hits, and then she groans, burying her face in her hands. “Dios mío, I’m such an idiot”

You’re still laughing, but you manage to pat her knee reassuringly. “An adorable idiot, but yeah, kind of”

“Well, you did say ‘embarazada,’” she points out. “How was I supposed to know you just meant you were embarrassed?”

You shrug. “Maybe when I didn’t start eating pickles and ice cream? Or asking for your jersey for when the baby arrives?”

“Touché.” She’s still grinning, that big, beautiful smile that makes you forgive her for thinking you were about to drop a baby bomb on her. “So, you’re just embarrassed”

“Yes. Very. And I’m also very much not pregnant. I’m sorry for confusing you”

She sighs, exaggerated like she’s relieved, and you both start laughing again, the awkward tension from the past few days melting away. But there’s still a mischievous glint in her eye, one that makes you a little wary.

“What?” you ask, knowing full well you’re about to regret it.

“Well, since you’re not pregnant,” she says slowly, leaning closer with that flirty smirk you love and hate in equal measure, “how about we do something about that embarrassment?”

She wiggles her eyebrows, and you roll your eyes. “Oh, so now that I’m not a fragile incubator, you’re all over me?”

“Exactamente,” she says, pulling you into her lap with surprising ease, even for someone who regularly benches more than your body weight. “Besides, I have to make sure you’re really not pregnant”

“Alexia,” you say, trying to sound stern but failing miserably when she starts nuzzling your neck, “that’s not how this works, remember?”

She grins against your skin, pressing a teasing kiss to your collarbone. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You push her back just enough to meet her eyes, raising an eyebrow. “But if you want to keep treating me like a queen, I’m not going to complain”

“Deal,” she says, her voice softening, her hand resting on your cheek. “But next time you’re embarrassed, can you please just say it in Italian, or English?”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Sure, but only if you promise not to freak out the next time I spill something”

“No promises,” she murmurs, pulling you closer, “but I’ll try”

[strawchocoberry]

DANGEROUS MIRAGES

So, 9:30? I’ll see you there

kinktober 2024 — day six

౨ৎ˚⋆˖ featuring. itoshi sae x fem reader

౨ৎ˚⋆˖ content warnings. smut, mirror sex, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, spanking, dacryphilia, dirty talk, denied orgasms, breeding kink

౨ৎ˚⋆˖ synopsis. confession from the house of mirrors — word count. 1.7k

Wandering through the house of mirrors, there’s an uneasy feeling creeping up your spine. The way out seems endless, not to mention non-existent. Everywhere you look, you can only see yourself reflected in the mirrors surrounding you. Your heart is thumping with anxiety, the eerie silence unnerving.

There are three outcomes once entering the house of mirrors. One, you get lost in the reflections and are unable to get out, embarrassingly having to wait for someone to help you out. Two, after wandering for a while, you’re greeted by the cool breeze blowing outside and a sense of dissatisfaction for which you can do nothing to erase. And three, find the secret room where he is and observes everyone entering the house of mirrors. While the most exciting outcome, it’s the hardest one to accomplish. And you only get one chance; if you get out of the house before finding his secret room, you can never enter again.

Clenching your phone in your hand, you can feel his cursed text biting you through the screen; Come find me in my secret room. Who does he think he is? Itoshi fucking Sae. Does he really expect you to go there just because he called you? Of course he did, given how you’re carefully treading through this maze of mirrors, scrutinising the entire place with your gaze to find a hint that will lead you to him.

Your irritation is written all over your face and he can’t help but laugh, watching you so desperately trying to find him. He’s lost count of how many others have tried to find him. He couldn’t care less though, seeing how none of them even got close to finding him. But you’ll find him. He knows you can. That’s why he called you. His eyes narrow on the screen, his lips curling up in a smirk as he watches you approaching, completely unaware of how close to him you are.

Wandering around while looking at your surroundings, you don’t see the mirror in front of you, until you bump into it. You rub your reddened nose, grumbling about this ridiculous bastard that “made” you come here and play his games for his own entertainment — as if you didn’t practically run here on your own volition as soon as tonight’s events started.

The mirror you just bumped into catches your attention. There’s something different about this particular mirror. And taking a closer look around, this area is slightly brighter than the rest. Placing your finger on the mirror, you notice the gap between your fingertip and its reflection and you know. You’ve found it. You’ve found him. You inspect the mirror, trying to find something, a way to get on the other side. And when you get too impatient, you take a quick glance around and ready your fist to smash it.

Yet before you even get the chance to break it, the mirror-door opens and you’re pulled inside, crashing on his hard chest. “I knew you’d find me, but I didn’t expect you to try and break the mirror.”

“So? Where’s my reward?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Reward?” Sae raises an eyebrow.

“I found you! Nobody has ever found you!” You fold your arms to your chest. “I believe I deserve a reward for my accomplishment!”

“Is that so?”

You glare at him for a moment, before he catches you off guard when he kneels before you. He kisses your bare thighs, his hands sliding underneath your skirt to cup your arse.

“Hmm? No underwear? My my, someone was really eager to see me,” he teases.

Sae spreads your legs and buries his face between your thighs, his head getting lost underneath your skirt. For a moment, you just watch the scene unfold like a fool. A low moan escapes your lips as you feel his tongue sliding up your folds, finding your clit and toying with it.

“W-What are you doing?” you ask, covering your mouth with the back of your hand to muffle your moans.

Sae emerges from underneath your skirt, a devious smirk curling up his lips. “You asked for a reward, so I’m giving it to you. Unless… you changed your mind.”

You want to curse at him, but you’re afraid he might not give you your reward if you do, so instead you keep your pretty little mouth shut. Smirking, Sae returns to his work. His hands massage your arse, slapping it every once in a while, as he’s making out with your cunt that gets wetter the more attention he gives it. However, when you’re about to cross the edge of ecstasy, he leaves you hanging by a thread for dear life, coming out from underneath your skirt and standing up, laughing cruelly at your frustrated reaction.

Embarrassed, you turn around to leave, but Sae doesn’t let you, catching both your arms and holding them behind your back with one hand. You squirm and try to break free, but it’s pointless. And then you hear it, the sound of the slap he just landed on your arse. First you hear it and then you feel it burning your skin.

“Did you really think I’d let you cum after you’ve been cursing at me for an entire hour?” he darkly whispers in your ear, his free hand already working on undoing his trousers. “Or did you think I wouldn’t know?”

He thrusts inside and for a moment, your mind goes blank, a few tears gathering in your eyes from the sudden intrusion. Sae doesn’t give you time to adjust, instead fucks you roughly from the very start, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. You bite down on your lip to muffle your moans, while mentally cursing at him. But there’s no denying how his dick is making you feel so good right now, stretching you out just right and hitting all the right spots.

Your eyes widen, seeing a few girls approaching from the other side of the two-way mirror. You open your mouth terrified to warn Sae, while he takes his chance to slide two fingers inside.

“Look at them, they’re trying to find me, just like you did. But of course, they won’t find me. They can’t.” He almost sounds pleased. “And well, even if they do, I’ll just show them how much better your pussy is.” You feel him leaning to your ear, his hot breath making it difficult for you to think straight. “Unless you want them to hear how good I’m making you feel right now.”

You immediately shake your head negatively, making him laugh. Because right now you’re not thinking. If you were, you’d know that this room is soundproof, otherwise it wouldn’t be that difficult to find him. But that just works in Sae’s favour. He assaults your sweet spot and slaps your arse, eliciting muffled moans and whimpers and cries from you that linger to his ear. You’re completely at his mercy, unable to move away from him, and can only pray those girls will leave soon enough.

And when they do, a wave of relief washes over you. But it’s not just relief. Without realising it, you’re cumming all over his cock, screaming on his fingers and clenching around him. Sae fucks you through your high, before releasing his hot milky cum inside you. For a moment, you’re just standing there, the only thing that can be heard in the room being your laboured breaths. He pulls out of you and you hold onto the wall for support, feeling your mixed arousals dripping down your thighs. You hear his footsteps getting further away from you, but you’re too busy finding your lost breath to check what he’s up to.

Sae walks to the monitor and watches those girls exiting the house of mirrors. Finally, he thinks, walking back to you. He catches your wrist and drags you with him outside of his secret room and into the main hall of the building. Once more you’re surrounded by your reflections, only this time, Sae’s with you too. You don’t understand why he brought you out. Yet before you can ask him, he pushes you against a mirror, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

“S-Someone might come and see us,” you say.

“Nobody is coming any more, angel,” he reassures you, catching your chin and rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip. “The game was over when you found me, those girls just happened to have entered after you.”

You gulp and your uneasiness makes him chuckle. He leans down and kisses your lips, devouring you, before lifting you in his arms, pressing your back against the mirror. You scream against his lips, as he slides himself inside your cunt once more, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders and hair, pulling it tightly. Sae groans in your lips, the sound making you clamp down on him, before he slams you down on his cock.

“Scream all you want,” he breathes in your neck, sucking on your flesh to leave a hickey. “I want everyone to hear you.”

Even if you wanted to do the opposite, the way he’s pounding your pussy makes it impossible to stay quiet. Wherever you look, you can only see his muscular back, his muscles flexing underneath his shirt with every movement, and your own fucked out expression, lips parted to moan for him. His nails dig into your arse, the pain making you hiss. And just like earlier, before you’re able to cum, he puts you down.

“You fucking prick—”

You don’t have the time to finish your sentence when he turns you around and lifts you up, holding your legs spread as he slides inside you once more. Terrified of falling, your arms reach back and hold onto him, as he starts thrusting. Your cheeks are so red, you don’t dare look in the mirror, but that’s almost impossible, given how you’re surrounded by mirrors.

“If you continue looking elsewhere, I won’t let you cum for the entire night,” Sae threatens.

Unwillingly, you look at your reflections, your cheeks blushing harder than before. And that only makes his smirk grow bigger.

“That’s a good slut, taking my cock so well.”

© strawchocoberry — do not copy, repost, translate or reuse my work

[galactic-magick]

Be Proud: Viktor x Reader

Summary: Viktor's newfound fame as the co-founder of Hextech has taken its toll on your insecurities.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions and allusions to body dysmorphia/eating disorders

Author's Note: I starting writing this to play with the idea of how founding Hextech probably gave Jayce and Viktor celebrity status in a way and how that would affect them and people involved with them. It ended up turning into a vent fic about my body image issues as well, to the point I almost didn’t post because it got so personal. But I figured there’s people out there who relate and might find solace in reading this as I did writing it.

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-

-

You’re so proud of him. Everything he’s accomplished, everyone he’s helped. He’s living his dream, creating the future, and he’s being listened to and valued by topsiders. This is all you’ve ever wanted for him, and you would never think of standing in his way.

Which is precisely why you’ve never told him how insecure it all makes you feel.

Before Viktor got involved with Hextech, life was so much more predictable. You both could live your days together in peace, never being in the spotlight and rarely interacting with the highest of powers in Piltover. Life was hard, sure, but nothing you couldn’t manage without some tasteful spite and stubbornness. Viktor always knew his background would be a stumbling block for him up here, and you really weren’t much farther ahead, being from a title-less family with half your relatives from the Undercity.

But you’re not used to being around such glamour and poise. As Viktor becomes more involved with the Council and the wealthier areas of Piltover, making Hextech gadgets per their requests and being invited to fancy events, you’re left mourning simpler times. You’ll never get used to people coming up to you on the street while you bring your husband some lunch, or people staring at you during conferences when you’re just there to support him. Everyday citizens want to know and analyze everything about you, simply because you’re married to Piltover’s finest scientist.

You don’t like to bother Viktor with how it’s affected you, especially since he’s so good at handling it all. He’s always been so proud of who he is—where he came from—because he’s had to be. He’s not phased by the new fame as the co-founder of Hextech, and he easily shrugs off any comments people make about his past or his looks. To him, celebrity status is just a slight annoyance that occasionally distracts him from doing his work in the labs. But for you, it’s brought back every insecurity you’ve ever had about yourself.

You’ve stopped joining him as much at dinners and banquets because you fear they’ll judge how you look in a dress. You’ve stopped chiming in to interviews so you don’t say something stupid and embarrass him. You’ve stopped visiting him so much while he’s working so people won’t talk to or see you on the street.

You’ve started picking yourself apart in the mirror again, fussing every morning until you might cry. You compare yourself to the beautiful specimens that surround you, perfect in face, body, and manners. You start wondering if people judge how you speak or how much you eat. You wonder if people gossip about your family origins or your marriage. You wonder if you really, really, tried—if you could look like them. If you could be like them.

Viktor has started to stay back from some events with you lately, claiming Jayce is better at being the face of Hextech anyway. But tonight marks the five year anniversary of the company, and Councilor Medarda insisted there be a grand celebration.

The feast and dance will be held in her personal mansion, with the rest of the council and all the investors invited, as well as several reporters and journalists. Jayce will give an update address on what they’ve been working on, and what they hope to achieve by the bicentennial Progress Day.

This is something you can’t get out of and you know it. You drive yourself crazy trying on every dress in your closet, hoping to find something suitable for the affair. Half of them don’t even fit, which sends you into a further spiral, and the ones that do still don’t look good enough in your reflection.

Now the floor is covered in failed attempts at getting dressed, negative thoughts taking over your mind. Thoughts you know aren’t true, but you can’t stop thinking them.

He’ll be embarrassed to be seen with me.

I’m not good enough to be here.

I should eat less.

If I tried harder I could look like her.

I should check how much I weigh again. What happened to that damn scale?

They only invited me because they have to.

They probably talk about me—

You’re so deep in your head that you jump when you see Viktor leaning against the door frame, eyes full of love and concern.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You look down at yourself, wearing the last dress you had in your closet. It fits perfectly, but that’s part of the problem.

Viktor moves towards you as tears well in your eyes. He wipes them away with his thumbs, smearing some of the makeup you put on earlier.

“Talk to me,” he says.

“No.” you reply, avoiding his gaze.

“No?” he chuckles. “Why not?”

“It’s so stupid,” you sigh. “I thought I recovered from this. I should be able to handle this.”

“Handle what?”

“All this publicity shit!” you finally look at him. “I hate being watched and talked about and judged for what I say and look like all the time. I hate being asked about personal things and nearly passing out because I’m scared to eat in front of people. I hate all these superficial gatherings that are probably just for show-”

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” he cuts you off, dropping his crutch to the floor and wrapping his arms around you. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been feeling this way? Why didn’t you tell me it was getting bad again?”

You sniffle, “I...I didn’t want to bother you with something that doesn’t seem to bother you. You’re so good at being confident no matter what people say about you.”

“You think it doesn’t bother me?” he questions. “You think it doesn’t hurt me every time I overhear insults about me or my home, let alone when they say it to my face? You think I don’t notice that most of these people wouldn’t blink an eye if I died if it wasn’t for what I can offer them?”

He squeezes you tighter before slightly pulling away to look at your face, “I’m just better at hiding what it does to me, darling. Having a drive to prove myself is not the same as confidence. Now,” he kisses your forehead, “Tell me why you’ve been in here for over an hour and still aren’t ready, hm?”

“Well,” you gesture to the piles on the floor. “Those ones don’t fit. I must’ve gained more weight but I don’t really know for sure because I can’t find the scale. And those ones I just don’t like. And this one does fit, but it’s tight and I’ve never worn something form-fitted to an event before. I don’t want to deal with comments about my stomach sticking out or my arms looking puffy or whether I’m proportioned to their tastes.”

“You truly believe they’ll say those things?”

“I don’t know what they’ll say. That’s what’s so scary.”

The tears return, falling slowly down your cheeks.

“Darling,” Viktor says softly. “No one will ever think or say anything as horrible as what you think and say about yourself. I promise you that.”

You nod, allowing him to soothe you, “I know.”

“I need you to tell me when these thoughts are getting bad. Do you understand? I never want you to go so long feeling this way ever again,” he tilts your chin. “Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, if you really don’t want to go, I’ll make up an excuse to get us out of it. But…” he slides his hands down your curves, “...it would be quite a shame if I didn’t get to see you wearing this all night.”

“You actually think it looks good?”

“Of course,” his eyes travel down your figure. “You always look perfect to me.”

“But-”

“No buts. Listen to me,” he faces you towards the mirror. “This body has gotten you through so much. I want you to be proud. Most of these people have never known a day of true hardship, but not you. You’re strong and you’re soft and you’re beautiful, and you’re the only one I’ll ever desire.”

You smile, knowing he means every word. You try to see what he sees, remembering every time he’s showered you with praise. You know he’s never once agreed with any of the horrible things you think about yourself. You know he loves everything about you, including how your body compliments his smaller, angular one. He’s never made you feel bad about anything, so why is it still so hard to believe him?

“Thank you, Viktor,” you say, turning to kiss his cheek. “I’ll try to be proud.”

“Good,” he nods. “Now, no more worrying about the scale or falling into old habits, alright? I want you to enjoy yourself tonight.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll try,” you laugh a bit. “You know what happened to it, though, don’t you?”

“Of course. I threw it out months ago,” he smirks. “You think I didn’t notice you checking it every single day?”

“You’re too good to me,” you bend down to pick his crutch up off the floor and hand it to him. “Let me just fix my makeup and we can go.”

“No more crying it off, alright?” he chuckles.

-

Jayce and Mel are waiting for you, welcoming you both to the celebrations. You can already feel the eyes and cameras on you, but you hold your head high, squeezing Viktor’s hand extra tight.

It’s been awhile since you’ve attended an event, but they always seem to go the same. Investors and council members come up to chat, mostly directing their questions towards Jayce. Sometimes they act as if Viktor isn’t even there, which boils your blood to the point you’ve said something on multiple occasions. Viktor has told you many times that he doesn’t mind being behind the scenes, and that Jayce is better at talking anyway, but you can never fully let it go. If people are going to gossip about him and your lives but not actually talk to him, you’ll gladly take the liberty of giving people a piece of your mind. You’d rather focus on lifting him up than dwell on your own self-consciousness, anyway.

One thing is different this time though—being that Viktor is a lot more handsy tonight than usual. He’s not normally one for public displays of affection, sticking to hand-holding and a few reassuring touches here and there. But tonight he can’t keep his hands off you.

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, whether it be listening to the conversations, answering questions, or participating in the feast and drinks. He always has a hand on your waist or your thigh, gliding to your hips and stomach every so often. It seems mindless, as if he does this every time you’re out together, but you know he’s putting in a special effort to make you feel good.

And damn is it working.

You feel more at peace than you ever have since entering the public eye, proud of who you are and who you’re with. Who cares if people are whispering about their opinions on the Zaunite inventor? Who cares if there’s pictures of you in tomorrow’s tabloids with unflattering angles? Maybe all that matters is you’re having fun with your husband, and he’s making you feel oh so beautiful.

The night goes on for hours, attendees fizzling out until there’s only a handful left. You convince Viktor to dance with you before you leave, leaning against you and swaying simply. You wrap your arms around his neck, wiggling your fingers into his hair. He looks at you with such admiration, such devotion.

How could you ever doubt yourself under the gaze of those eyes?

“You lovebugs ready to head out?” Jayce approaches you both. “Viktor and I have a meeting with Heimerdinger in the morning.”

“Ah, yes, we do,” he briefly looks away from you. “But...perhaps we could push it until the afternoon?”

Jayce rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you guys are in for a long night. Have fun.”

He waves and walks away, and you burst out laughing.

“Is it really that obvious?” Viktor jokes, returning his full attention to you.

“Viktor, darling, you’ve been all over me since we got here. I’d say the entire city knows how bad you want me tonight.”

“Maybe I want them to know,” he grins, sliding a hand up your dress and squeezing your thigh.

“Viktor!” you gasp, playfully slapping his hand away.

“Alright, I suppose we can go home first,” he pivots around, moving towards the door and extending his arm to you, “Shall we?”

You nod, quickly returning to his side.

Jayce was right, it’s going to be a long, lovely night.

[melancholyhigh]

RECKLESS.

ft. rookie!leon x lieutenant!reader

synopsis. after leon was careless on a mission, you ask him to pay you a visit to your office.

content. 3.0k words. smut. age gap, power imbalance, delulu leon, subby leon, masturbation, praise kink, office sex, handjob, blowjob, edging, dacryphilia.

note. mb guys, i'll post dilf leon a little later. sub leon is my favourite leon.

masterlist. i love feedback! :3

Tough love. That’s what Leon liked to call it when you’re scolding him. He’s got sympathetic looks from his coworkers each time you drag him away to chastise him, but he doesn’t take it to heart — you want the best for him.

They always say how he ‘gets it worse,’ and they don’t understand how he takes it. But it’s different when you reprimand him in comparison to his colleagues. You pull him aside to lecture him, never in the presence of others. It’s so much more intimate. Unlike his fellow officers, where you nearly publicly humiliate them, he gets special treatment.

Leon likes to think he’s your favourite. He knows he’s your favourite.

When he was the newest recruit, he thought nothing of your ways. You probably did it to all the rookies, but after a few weeks in, he realised you only ever did it to him. 

At first, you thought Leon was just like the others. He was inexperienced and expected much more than this field could accomplish. 

You were strict, that was much. The older officers knew of your demeanour when they had first been there. You weren’t cruel to rookies. They’re new officers. It’s their first time at the department, and you’ve been here longer than you’d like to admit. You couldn’t be too harsh on them, but you weren’t the gentle parenting kind either.

Something about Leon ticked you off, though. You didn’t know what exactly did. When he messed up, you had to tell him off, and, at first, it was worse than what you’d usually say to the other recruits. You felt that he should’ve known better. You weren’t ever this particular with rookies, and you’re shocked that Leon hasn’t even transferred yet. You felt guilty to the point you apologised to him.

So when you pull him aside from the others, they expect you to be worse than you usually are, sparing Leon from the embarrassment, and to an extent, you are. In reality, you’re softer to him. Even if it’s not noticeable — you can tell. You do it so your reputation stays intact. You’re mortified by how gentle you are to him, contradicting your usual attitude towards the other older officers. It’s obvious enough that Chris notices. 

Even though you are rough to Leon, sometimes you’re not as intimidating. Other times when he’s been playing the ass, you’re worse than usual.

When he forgets his papers, you’re easy on him. He’s hard-working, people forget. A slap on the wrist. If anyone else forgets them? You’re on their ass immediately. It’s part of the job. How can one be so forgetful?

You try to reason with yourself that Leon’s more responsible than the others. And you’re not wrong. But you feel uneasy knowing there is an underlying reason why you treat him differently.

He acts thoughtless during patrols? You’re oddly silent, more silent than usual, and it scares the entire department. They usually chalk it up to a patrol gone seriously awry, and it’s not entirely wrong to assume that. But you’re less of a threat when shit blows up in your face to uncontrollable forces rather than when things do not go as smoothly because of an avoidable mishap.

You’re residing in your office right now. If you were to face Kennedy right now, you’d do something you’d regret. He almost botched the arrest. You and a few officers patrolled an area known for its high crime rate where a recent robbery occurred at a nearby convenience store, and you and your team were investigating the area. 

During a conversation with the store’s owners, your squad found the suspect armed with a handgun. As you’re about to take action, just your luck, when Leon S. Kennedy handled the situation. He disobeyed your orders, whether verbally or not, when he dealt with the thief. You were appalled because he knew better than that. Maybe it was adrenaline or stupidity, but the situation could’ve gone south.

Back at the department, you ventured to your office, ignoring Kennedy in the guise of paperwork. You tried to do paperwork, but the image of Leon with a bullet wound, unable to be the officer he used to be or even dead, continues to flash in your mind. 

Was it normal to have such a sense of despair at the thought of losing a coworker? Not to this extent. For Christ's sake, he had a bulletproof vest on. Why were you even thinking about that? You never thought about your other colleagues in such a manner. 

Did you find him attractive? Of course, you had eyes — he was as cute as a button. Not that you’d admit that. Did you like Kennedy more than you lead on? Well, shit. You’re starting to overthink everything. You knew how fond he was of you, like a puppy, following you and obeying your every command. You probably liked that too much.

Sighing, you lean back on the soft cushioning of your office chair, the leather squeaking under your weight. You had to do something about this revelation, don’t you?

–-

Leon has been anticipating visiting your office once again. He’s disappointed with the silent treatment he’s been receiving from you lately. You had brushed him off initially, giving him a stern, “Don’t pull that shit again, Kennedy,” before dismissing him entirely. 

He wasn’t reckless on purpose to hear you reprimanding him. Not that he likes it or anything, but he prefers you being angry to blatantly disregarding him. He wished you’d do something. Punish him for all he cares.

Leon furiously clicks his pen, unable to focus on his papers. He wishes you’d pay attention to him. He reminisces on the time you shared at the bar. It seems to be on his mind more often lately. 

After a tough case, some officers decided to head to a bar and invited him to tag along. He was relatively new, so he took the opportunity while he could. The others relentlessly begged for you to join them — to loosen up. You weren’t keen on the idea at first but you eventually gave in. You clearly adored your squad, and it wasn’t as subtle as you thought.

Leon tried not to get too drunk. He did not want to embarrass himself in front of others, limiting his alcohol intake. You seem not too fond of getting drunk, bourbon in your hand, watered down by the ice. 

You were sat next to him, making quips and chuckling at inside jokes that the older cops say. He felt excluded, quietly sipping on his drink as he listened quietly. After another round, they started to filter out, leaving essentially you and him alone. There were others, but they were too intoxicated, waiting for their spouse to pick them up.

The buzz picks up its pace the longer he’s in the bar. He’s minding his business, and you’re with him. He takes a peek at you. You’re sat there with a look of contemplation. After a few moments, your voice slices through the noise that fills the packed room.

“Hey, Leon,” you said, turning to him and resting a hand on his shoulder. It was the only time he heard you call him by his first name, granted he only saw you at the department. He had looked at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry for being too hard on you. I know it’s probably a lot, but I do it ‘cause I care, ya know? I’ll ease up on ya.”

His cold lieutenant, who he hadn’t heard speak an entire sentence since you joined them for drinks, was talking to him, not just that, apologising to him. Your palm on his shoulder feels warm, giving him a reassuring squeeze before you drop your hand.

“It’s fine. You’re just doin’ your job, Lt.” His face gets redder at the prospect of you caring about him. God, you were so close, a rare smile blooming on your pretty lips. He’s quivering like a leaf and hopes you think it’s the alcohol. 

“I’m gonna head home. Need a drive?” You had finished your drink, standing up and putting on your jacket.

He shook his head, “No, I’ll be okay.”

He regrets not accepting the offer. He ended up taking a cab home, wondering how it’d play out if he had agreed to let you carry him home instead.

The same night, at home, he remembers your hand on his shoulder and the words you had said to him. He felt fuzzy, and he was sure he was mostly sober. He needed a cold shower, leading him to think not-so-professional thoughts about you, arousal blocking his senses.

Up against the cool bathroom wall, he tugs on his aching dick, wishing it was your hand instead, teasing him. He thought about what you’d do to him, making him cry as you whispered how much of a good boy he was, just like you’d tell him he did a good job after a tough assignment.

He came, his fingers coated in his sticky seeds, grimacing at the sight. He had taken an extra cold shower, pondering if he regretted climaxing to the thought of his boss.

He didn’t.

–-

Leon groans in annoyance, scratching off another word he spelt wrong. He wonders if you still remember the night at the bar. It wasn’t anything remarkable, but it solidified the burning fact that you actively care for him.

Leaning back on his chair, he decides to take a quick break. However, it was cut short as you entered the room. Your eyes are on him, and he immediately begins to work on his papers. He didn’t need another reason for you to disregard him.

“Kennedy, meet me in my office. Now,” you say. Your voice is cold, and you’re glaring at him. The officers in the room are giving him a look filled with pity. He doesn’t care, preferring your attention over their sympathy. It’s the longest sentence you’ve said to him since you reached the department.

As you walk to your office, Leon follows like an obedient puppy. He hears the gossip of his coworkers behind him once they think he’s out of shot. He ignores their words and trails behind you, anticipation filling his system as well as another emotion that only you can make him feel.

Once in your office, Leon closes the door behind him with shaky hands. He’s trying his best not to smile, biting his lip. You didn’t forget about him.

“Lock the door,” you sighed. Your command confuses Leon, but he obliges, twisting the lock on the door. You’re leaning up against your wooden desk, arms crossed. You refused to look at him, but your acknowledgement of him was enough. He’ll take what he can get.

“Come closer,” you beckon, your voice low as you look at him. He nervously walks closer to you, almost tripping over his own feet. He prays you didn’t see that. Leon coughs awkwardly, a few inches away from you, leaving enough room for Jesus.

“You know why I brought you in here, officer?” You questioned, voice laced with authority. Leon is stunned at your response. Usually, you get it over within a few minutes, leaving him to finish his papers with a dazed smile, not entertaining pointless questions.

“U– uh, because I disobeyed your orders?” Staring at the floor, he doesn’t want to see your reaction. He really fucked up this time if you’re dragging it out like this.

A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. Humming softly, you reply, “Yes. You’re a smart boy, Leon. Shouldn’t you know better?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry, lieutenant,” he answers quickly, straightening his posture. Fuck, you’re calling him by his first name all of a sudden.

“I should punish you,” You mention, catching him off guard. He stares at you with doe eyes, pink lips parted as if he didn’t hear you correctly. The sentence wasn’t inherently wrong, but the tone you said made his body heat up.

You grab his belt, softly tugging him closer to you. He stumbles, pressing himself against your warm body, lips brushing against yours. He’s stunned, unable to form a coherent thought, watching you grin at the sight of him.

“I think you’d like that too much,” you chuckle, admiring how wrecked Leon was. You didn’t even get to the fun part yet. You bump noses together as you get nearer to his face.

“Is this okay, darlin’?”

“God, yes, please.”

You capture his lips softly with your own, and he whimpers quietly. Your lips move in sync with his. It’s slow and soft, and you’re testing the waters with him. If he knew he’d be making out with you in your office, he’d buy some mints. His hands move to grip your waist, squeezing eagerly to get more of you.

You break away, heavily breathing as you try to catch your breath. Leon’s chest flushed to yours, and his lips slick with your combined spit. He subtly grinds his bulge against your thigh, eyes snapped shut. The kiss was so much better than he imagined. He still can’t fathom that this is real, that you’re real.

“Can I touch you, pretty boy?” you ask, fidgeting with his belt buckle. His head reels. You think he’s pretty? He’s heard others say it but thought nothing of it. It’s different when it comes to you. 

He nods mindlessly, “Yeah, t– touch me.”

Slowly, you unbuckle his pants, watching it fall to the ground. He’s in his boxers, precum darkening the light-coloured fabric. You run your fingers along his prominent erection through the cloth. A soft moan escapes Leon as you tease the tip.

He watches with hooded eyes as you trail your hand from his tummy to the waistline of his boxers, tugging them down. His cock is fully erect, flushed pink to the head and dribbling precum down his shaft. Wrapping your digits around his throbbing dick, you slowly stroke him, kissing his neck and nipping the sensitive flesh.

You use the excess precum dribbling down his cock as a lubricant, picking up your pace. Leon’s desperate moans fill the room, as well as the lewd noise of you jerking his aching cock. Your other hand wraps around his taut waist, bringing him closer to you. You whisper filthy words and praises into his ear, your pace on his member insistent. 

When he’s about to climax, you stop your movement, cruelly laughing as Leon whines at the loss of your touch. He desperately bucks his hips into your enclosed hands, but it’s not enough. He looks at you with glossy eyes and fluttering lashes. 

“This a punishment, darling. You’re not going t’cum that easily,” you tease, slowly stroking his shaft once more, thumbing the sensitive head of his cock. Leon furrows his brows, frustrated. Leon knew he could’ve avoided this if he was good for you, but then again, would have you been giving him a handjob if he wasn’t so bad.

You continue to bring him close to completion, only to take it away at the last second. He doesn’t know how many times you’ve ruined his chances of coming undone, but he knows you’re cruel. Tears streamed down his face, leaving a red, irritated trail behind on his skin.

“Oh, you look so pretty when you cry, darlin’.” you coo, his cock still in your fist as you continue to stroke him after ruining another orgasm. He throws his head back, and you’re nuzzling into the junction of his neck, leaving bite marks on the flushed skin.

“Please, please, let me cum. I– I'll be your good boy,” he hiccups, rutting his hips into your palm. 

“Mhm, okay, baby. I think you deserve it.”

You take your hand off his needy dick and give him a sloppy kiss on his lips. He observes you through watery eyes as you get on your knees in front of him, your hands gripping the back of his thighs. Fuck, he couldn’t believe it. His lieutenant was on their knees for him, about to make him cum with their mouth.

He whimpers when you drag your tongue along the shaft, tracing the veins that lead to the base. You moan softly at the taste, kissing the tip before taking him entirely into your mouth. He couldn't help but buck into your warm mouth. 

He wasn’t going to last long, he was already so sensitive from you jerking him off. His ruined orgasms only add to it. He props himself on your mahogany desk, the wood digging into his back. Eyes rolling to the back of his head when you hallow your cheeks and take more of him down your throat.

“Ugh, Fuck,” he cries when you moan around his dick, his eyes squeeze shut. A wet gag leaves you as the spongy tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and your grip on the back of his thighs tightens, leaving indents in the soft flesh. 

“‘M so close,” he whines, thrusting feverishly into your mouth, the desk shaking with each move. Drool slips past your lips as you stare up at him through your lashes clumped together by tears, silently permitting him to climax, his tummy clenching at the sight. To see you in such a manner, you, who’s always professional, on your knees in front of him, choking on this swollen cock. It’s something that’s only ever occurred in his wildest dreams.

He whimpers loudly, hand clasping over his mouth to hide his embarrassing moans as he finishes down your throat. You pull away from his softening cock, coughing, wiping the spit and cum accumulated on your face. You stand up on wobbly knees, gripping Leon’s bicep to balance yourself.

Once Leon gathers himself, he kisses you, filled with passion, his arms encircling your waist, moaning into your mouth. He’s giddy, peppering kisses all over your cheeks and puffy lips. You really do like him, don’t you? You just gave him the orgasm of his lifetime in your office. It’d only be fair to help you out, too.

“Can I return the favour, Lt.?”

[ken-dom]

Ken’s First Orgasm

Ken x reader

1.1k words

Summary: Since Ken entered the real world, he’s been experiencing some… feelings (AKA a good orgasm might calm him down)

Author’s Notes: It’s smutty, it’s tongue-in-cheek, it’s a little bit silly… just take it for what it is, enjoy the Kenergy and have fun 🩷

This was my first Ken fic, originally posted to my main blog under the title 'Ken's First Time.' Due to a tagging issue on my main, I'm reposting my works here to have everything in one place.

Warnings/content: NSFW, 18+, first kiss, first orgasm, making out, dry humping, hand job, gn!reader, Ken’s self doubt and nerves (and crying)

‘I’ve been getting these… urges, like, there’s something stirring deep inside me that I can’t seem to tame,’ Ken uttered huskily, fingers toying with the hair by your ear. ‘I think it might be because I’m craving… this.’

Biting his lip, he stared deep into your eyes, the heat of his gaze dropping down to your lips before slowly leaning in.

When you followed his lead, breath quickening as you tilted your head, he faltered, pulling back with a quiet growl and balling his fists in frustration.

He had hung on your every word all day, never taking his eyes off you for a single moment. And you’d noticed the way he lit up every time you looked at him… but now, you began to wonder if you’d done something to put him off.

‘Ken?’ you breathed carefully.

‘I- I’ve never…’ he hesitated.

Oh. That’s all it was. You dipped your head to meet his sparkling eyes again.

‘You’ve never kissed anyone?’ you asked gently, lifting your palm to rest softly against his handsome cheek.

Ken cleared his throat and forced a smile. ‘I’ve tried. Lots of times.’ He lifted his chin with mock confidence, as though trying to kiss was some sort of proud accomplishment. ‘You know how it can be.’

‘It’s alright,’ you soothed, rubbing your thumb soothingly over his cheekbone. Your mind raced with what else he probably hadn’t done either, the thought causing heat to pool at your core. ‘We’ll take it at your pace.’

The silky tone of your voice and the comfort of your words made him feel… dizzy? He blinked his gaze away, blushing. Feeling it again. That pull of something deep in his gut that made him want to submit himself to… whatever it was his body was craving so much. Damn it, he really needed to just get over it and kiss you.

You smiled warmly, leaning in again with pause enough to allow him time to decide. To your delight, he pressed forward, lips crashing soft and wet against yours, and as you parted your lips to encourage his tongue, he moaned loudly into your mouth while his fingertips drove hard into the flesh at your waist.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, it was suddenly hard to remember to breathe, his needy whines and desperate grabbing clouding your thoughts, causing your legs to tremble, but eventually you pulled away, panting.

‘Wow, Ken… that was-’

‘Terrible! I mean, you… you were great. I had no idea what I was doing. I'm not made for kissing, I’m only good at Beach.’ He shook his head, frustrated. ‘I shouldn’t have- mmh!… mmm…’

You shut him up instantly, diving back for more and inadvertently pushing him to lay back on the bed. You straddled him naturally, conscious thought still lost in the haze of excitement.

‘You- you liked it?’ he breathed huskily as you pulled up to get a look at how pretty he was, breathless with anticipation beneath you.

You nodded, humming in approval. ‘And it feels like you did too,’ you smirked, grinding down against his already aching erection.

The noise he made was unearthly, a growl and a whimper and a groan and a desperate exhale all at once. The pressure he had been feeling there released ever so slightly with a small pearl of precum, affording him a moment of bliss between the aching neediness.

You stilled, worried you’d hurt him somehow, but his eyes widened revealing pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates, and you realised it had been a sound of pleasure, not pain.

‘What… was… THAT?’ he cried out breathlessly. ‘That felt incredible! Sublime! That’s it! That’s what I’ve been craving?! Do it again? Please-’

The last word tapered into a whine as you rolled your hips to grind against him again, and he flopped down onto the pillow, eyes rolling back with overwhelming sensations he couldn’t find the words for.

‘Ken?’ you asked softly, leaning down, ‘you’ve never had an orgasm before have you?’

He shook his head.

‘Do you want to?’

He couldn’t catch his breath and his reply came out as a husky whisper. ‘Will it feel like that again?’

‘Better,’ you grinned wickedly.

‘Oh fuck, yes,’ he mumbled, not even realising he’d sworn. ‘Please.’

You leaned in to kiss him again, igniting the flames inside him that had been roaring since the first time you held his hand. Ken moaned in anticipation, closing his eyes tightly, composing and preparing himself.

You rocked your hips only once more and he exploded, fists bunching the sheets while you continued to writhe against him, his back arching off the bed and tears prickling at his eyes as his orgasm tore through every fibre of his being.

It was like nothing else. How had he never so much as wondered what this would be like until he had entered the real world and discovered human feelings and thoughts… and needs.

His chest heaved as he came down from his high, lazily lifting an arm to rest over his forehead in complete surrender while he tried to claw his way back to the present, with you.

When he opened his eyes, he was met with you smiling down at him, nothing short of smug.

‘Was that- did I-?’ he stuttered.

‘You sure did,’ you panted, heart pounding and heat rushing down to keeping your own arousal simmering. God, he was a picture, mussed hair and pink cheeks and heavy eye lids.

‘Oh… oh, that was, it was-’

You chuckled, climbing off him to settle at his side, where he turned to face you.

‘Should I have… you know? Was there something I didn’t do? You didn’t…’

The concern in his eyes was endearing, but you laughed again and he relaxed. Another tear slid down his cheek as you caressed his arm tenderly.

‘Don’t worry, Ken, we have time for that. I get the feeling you’ll be great at… doing stuff. Besides, that wasn’t quite the whole thing. I’m glad it felt good, but there’s a lot more I can show you. If you want me to…’

Ken snorted a disbelieving laugh. ‘Well, good, because these urges I’ve been getting? I think they might have actually been for-’

‘Orgasms,’ you interrupted with a smirk. ‘Yeah, humans tend to get that a lot.’

‘I’m not surprised! How do you get through the day without doing that at regular intervals?’

You laughed, gently wiping the tears from his cheeks. ‘It will calm down when you’re a little more used to it. In the meantime… let’s make the most of your libido, yes?’

‘Absolutely,’ he agreed eagerly, as though the word libido meant anything at all to him. Nevertheless, he was as eager as anything for another round.

‘I’m going to start undressing you this time… if that’s alright?’ you muttered seductively, kissing at his collar bone while your fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt.

‘Of course. You don’t have a body like mine for nothing. Well, I suppose it’s main purpose is for Beach, but-’

‘Ken?’

‘Yeah?’

You didn’t use any more words, and he suddenly lost all concept of his own thoughts when your hand slid inside his beach shorts.

‘How does this feel?’ you whispered as your fingers wrapped loosely around his thick length and pumped slowly, lightly. You didn’t want to overwhelm him too soon.

‘R-real- f-fucking- oh!- good, hnnng…’

[sunalee]

the hood and the healer

summary: The town's vigilant always visits your tent with a wound to be taken care of.

with: Kim Mingyu

warnings: historical!au, mentions of injuries, a bit of angst and grieving, open wound (nothing graphic), healer!reader, childhood friends to lovers?, unspoken feelings, fluff. word count: 1500+

The evening comes, and it’s the time for you to close the doors of your humble hut to rest. Fortunately, there weren’t too many villagers seeking your care today: two children who got into a fight in the streets, a wounded guard who prevented a robbery, and a lady with a skin disease in her knee, who needed weekly treatments to improve her health.

You can’t exactly call yourself the best healer in the realm, your tools aren’t the most advanced, and neither are your skills, much to the short time you’ve been practicing. But you’re proud to help in any way you can. 

The well-being of your patients it’s what matters most, and you do whatever you can to provide that, paying close attention to every ingredient chosen or bought, cleaning and tending them to later produce ointments and other types of medicines. You learned all the recipes from your late father’s journal, your inspiration of healer, who taught you everything you know today.

His manuscripts are now all you have of him since your childhood home was demolished four years ago, on orders of the current governor, Mozan. That tyrant ravished almost every knowledge source in town, monopolizing to his own hands so that people pay more for services they had in abundance. So many valuables, research, and medicines that could bring so much improvement were lost that day, and with your father’s death, you had to learn from the worst scenario how to get back up and move forward with your life. 

It’s been a tough and long process, but even though you still didn’t accomplish a comfortable situation, you’re grateful for what you’ve done so far.

Organizing the glass balm jars on the shelves, you’re startled by hurried knocks on the door, so suddenly that almost makes you drop the jar you’ve been holding. 

Who could it be at this hour? For precaution, you take a medium branch from the pile you gathered early to the fireplace, hard enough to leave a good concussion. You take a deep breath before unlocking the door and slightly opening it.

A tall, hooded-dressed man is waiting on the other side. The white fabric of his haori almost hides his brown uniform underneath it, but you don’t pay much attention to that, eyes focusing on the way the man is holding his arm close, a clear sign of injury.

You don’t need much more than the warm-brownish eyes gazing at you, and the wooden bow strapped to his back to recognize your childhood friend Mingyu. 

“Do you have time for one more patient?” His pleasant, deep voice vocalizes a question a little embarrassed and restrained as if he did something he shouldn’t and now it hurts like hell. And from the way his body is curling forward, he won’t be able to endure that wound much longer.

And you know exactly what got him into this situation. Oh, how much you want to give him the slaps his mother forgot to do. 

Sliding those thoughts aside, you make room for him to enter, guiding the dark-haired man to the futon where you tend most of your clients. You preferred to quiet yourself, feeling down your throat the hard lecture you wish to free, but you let your worry lead you, removing his belongings and upper clothes until you spot the ugly hole covered with blood on his shoulder.

“Arrow.” He informs, hissing when you touch the wound with a white cloth to clean it and inspect it better. “I put some pressure on it on my way here, but I suppose it’s worse than before. It feels like it.”

“Fool.” You whisper to yourself, but Mingyu catches your words, chuckling in response. He has to agree with you on that. He turns quiet, watching you as you meticulously check on him, searching and finding other bruises along his torso and back. He noticed the signs you leave and sadness in your eyes at every scratch found, making him feel guilty for making you so concerned. 

Ensured enough, you return to the main wound. Thank goodness Mingyu wasn’t stupid to ignore it, as without proper care it could quickly become infected and worsen his situation. It isn’t large, but you’ll need to give it a few stitches to close it and quicken the healing process. 

You leave for a few seconds, gathering the material before returning with a basin of water, some more cloths, strips, an ointment, and a canteen of water for him to recover his energy. You offer some seeds to lessen the pain, but he denies them gently, knowing how much you struggle to find these seeds in the woods. He’s been through a lot more pain than this, he can take it. 

“Tell me if it gets too much.” You encourage him while cleaning the wound, gazing at him one last time before taking the needle and twine, and starting to stitch his skin. Mingyu does an excellent job at hiding the intense pain in his body, taking deep and even breaths to relive it. His resilience stuns you so much, how can the patient be calmer than the healer? 

 It’s a horrible sensation, especially on someone so dear to you. It’s something that you pray to never need to repeat. You finally finish the nerve-wracking stitches, content with your work but still nervous as you inspect it for any mistakes. 

“You’re worried.” He points out after a few moments,  noticing the way your body is stressed by the whole situation.

“How did this happen?” You decide to ignore it, gathering the material to start patching him up. 

He sighs. He won’t win this fight. “I broke into one of Mozan’s vaults. There weren’t any patrols at first, but a few archers appeared later on as I collected the coins.” He tells the story so casually that you could believe he does that every day after breakfast. “I got away in time, but one of them hit me in the shoulder as I was riding.” He confesses frustrated,  not quite meeting your eyes. “Don’t worry, I made sure to lose them before I came here.”

You chuckle in disbelief, trying to ingest what you just heard. How can he presume that you’re more worried about two archers breaking into your house than your only friend, who almost died at their hands?

Honestly, you never will understand what goes through Mingyu’s head. But clearly, it’s majority nonsense.

“Was that funny?” He asks, visibly confused. Your urge to hit him grows, but you rather fill your hands with the ointment to rub on his wound. Maybe if you press your fingers just a little harder, it’ll hurt him enough.

But you love him too much to do that.

“Why do you keep doing this?” You can’t take it anymore. You can’t keep watching him putting himself in danger over nothing. “What’s so nice about robbing the rich, hm? Why do you keep risking your life on this? It’s not worth it,Gyu!”

“Of course it’s worth it!” He sneers, getting defensive. He doesn’t want to argue with you, but he won’t just let you assume his purpose is pointless: you need to understand his point.  Pursing his lips, he keeps on explaining. “You know I’m not doing this for money. I’m doing justice to everyone who suffered for the greed of these men. To all who starve, while they stuff themselves with wine and meal. I’m doing this for us, _______.”

“This isn’t the right way to do it, and you know that.” You firmly rebound, even if it’s clear in his eyes the purity of his intentions. His heart is the greatest you’ve ever seen, but his emotions aren’t enough to assure his safety. “Your father would never agree with what you’re doing right now.”

“My father is dead because of them!” He raises his voice, gaze turning into flames for a moment. Breathing hard, he realizes what just happened, and tears start forming in the same place, making you regret bringing up such a sorrowful memory. “He was a righteous man who fell into their trap.” He gulps down, trying to contain his growing emotions. “ -and I’ll not let anyone else suffer as he did. I won’t let any child lose their father the way I lost. And I don’t care if I have to go through hundreds of arrows to guarantee that!”

You stare at each other for slow, silent seconds, until Ren regains his calmness, eyes softening as he realizes how he handled things. You continue to tend to his wounds without muttering words, but you can feel his regretful gaze on you. The only sound echoing in the room is the flames covering the woods in the fireplace.

You finish the last bandage before returning his clothes, not really meeting his gaze.“All done. Try not to make any brusque movements with your arm, and remember to change the dressing around the same time for the next few days.” You give the instructions, holding the now bloody bowl in your hands to discard. “I’ll get you medicine for the pain.”

A gentle hand holds your arm before you can move away, making you stay still as you search for an answer inside those beautiful blazing eyes of his.

“Forgive me… For being so harsh with my words. I know you only worry for me, and I’m immensely grateful for your care.” He tries to apologize, shoulders soothing as you offer him a small smile in return. 

“It’s all right. Forgive me for the things I said to you as well.” You answer, also regretfully. Mingyu didn’t lose his father to a disease like you did, and neither had the honor to stay with him in his last moments; his father was murdered in cold blood, and punished publicly for confronting the tyranny without fear. An honored soldier, who did nothing but protect his people. If you were in his place, you would be just as furious as him. You move closer, rubbing softly his good shoulder. “Now, let me bring your medicine.”

He lets you go this time, taking a moment to look around the room as you search on the shelves.

“Looks like the roof has some holes in it.”

“Termites.” You explain, grabbing a green bottle, the smell of calendula filling your nostrils as you confirm the content. “They’ve been growing fast outside, and ended up coming to my house as well. Once I get enough, I’ll repair the damages.”

“I could help you with the coins, you know.” He not so discreetly proposes, but you know very well where those funds came from. “Winter is coming, and these holes won’t do you any good with the cold.”

“I can handle it, Gyu, but I appreciate the offer.” You leave no room for conversation walking back to him and passing the medicine. “Take twice a day, ten hours apart. It doesn’t taste very well, but it will help you through the pain.” You instruct, noticing after that he doesn’t take his eyes off you as he catches the bottle, amused by your stubbornness. As always. 

“Thank you, _______.” He says, not only for what you’ve done, but for every wound, pain, and struggle you’ve helped him go through, since his childhood. One day, he'll honor everything, starting by giving you a better place to live. It won’t be today, nor tomorrow, but certainly one day.

He rises from the futon and surprises you with a tender, slow peck on your forehead. You’ve never questioned Mingyu’s feelings before, content with just being a dear person to him. 

But perhaps, something deeper could arouse in the future.

“Take care, my healer.” He says with a hint of humor, already dressed with his uniform and belongings. Walking towards the entrance, he turns to you one more time. “Until next time.”

“Not wounded, I hope.” You almost plead, making him giggle so genuinely that brings a smile to your face as well. It’s good to see him well. 

“But that’s the funny part.” He answers with a cheeky grin, and with the last wave, he leaves your hut, closing the door on the way out.

Already missing his presence, you start gathering the used material from the ground, but you find a small bag that wasn’t familiar. There’s a note beside it, but you decide to check the content inside, finding a good amount of gold coins that make you speechless. Shaking your head in disbelief, you open the note, already knowing who gave you such gift:

“You said you didn’t want help with the roof, but you didn’t say anything about the medicine’s price.”

— Gyu.

© sunalee 2024 — all rights reserved.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Love and deepspace boy getting you back for touching their butt when theyre angry and turn away from you pls (I hope you know what I mean)

Honestly had no idea what Xavier would do in retaliation, so I kinda just skipped him. Plus I didn’t want any of them sounding repetitive of each other and that I couldn’t think of anything…

Rafayel

‘I’m not just gonna grow a tail, even if you touch it over and over again.’ He muttered after you smacked his ass, pouting as he rubbing his backside as though you bruised him with your playful swat.

You scoffed, he always acted as though that any form of activity would make him bruise like a peach but when in reality he was just being extremely dramatic; so basically being himself.

So when he began to ignore you shortly after the incident, you weren’t at all shocked nor were you worried as in the end Rafayel always tended to be the one to come crawling back for your affection and attention; you often joked that he couldn’t last a day without pestering you with text and voice messages, attempted FaceTime calls and calls in general and needless to say he took that as a personal challenge but failed just under a record breaking five seconds into it.

However this felt a lot different then to the other times he’s ’ignored’ you.

He was scheming and you were rightfully skeptical.

One day, you had grown bored of his recent antics that you started to head towards the front door and were just about to leave when something caught the corner of your eye; a discarded paintbrush. ‘What the-‘ you sighed before marching over to pick it up, less then amused. ‘I swear I’ll have to get on Raf’s ass for leaving his shit lying about sooner or later because one day someone’s going to get hurt-‘

SMACK

You looked over your shoulder to see a smirking Rafayel and everything started to come together for you.

‘You just smacked my ass.’

‘Yep.’ Rafayel replied, almost as if feeling accomplished.

‘But did you have to do it that fucking hard?’ You complained as you were now the one pouting and rubbing your sore backside as though you were an easily bruised peach.

Rafayel shrugged. ‘You did it to me first, so-‘

‘Yeah but I didn’t smack you nearly as hard as you did just now.’ You cut him off before muttering to yourself. ‘That’s gonna bruise and make sitting down a whole lot harder. Thanks for that.’

Rafayel pretended as though he didn’t hear you and moved past you to pick up the paint brush with a look upon his face as though he had been searching all over his impressive studio for awhile, pocketing it not long after. ‘Aww that must really suck, for you that is, hope you’ve got an excuse on hand for the instance that someone takes notice and starts asking questions.’ He then gave you a look of false sympathy, patting you on the shoulder before leaving you to focus on his latest painting.

You fucking hated him sometimes but couldn’t help but love him twice as hard for his stupid antics that you secretly adore.

Zayne aka ‘mr surgical knots.’

‘Is this really necessary?’ You grunt as you tried to break your hands free from the knot that was currently keeping your hands bound together.

‘Consider it a precaution for your,’ Zayne pauses to watch you struggle before continuing, ‘wandering hands.’

You chuckled humourlessly as you decided that it was hopeless in trying to get your hands untied, Zayne had done an excellent job in making sure that the knot was strong enough to keep your hands restrained but yet not tight enough to cause discomfort to your skin. ‘all this just because I might’ve touched your ass?’ You asked rhetorically, gauging at how his ears became red at the memory, before his evol kicked in and cooled his temperature significantly. ‘Seems a little excessive if you ask me but then again…it’s not exactly the worst punishment you could’ve come up with.’ You drawled, causing one of Zayne’s brows to raise in question.

‘So you find your current predicament to be…pleasurable?’ He inquires as he steps closer to you, making sure that he took his sweet time to admire his work and make internal pointers on how he could improve for instances where he maybe in need to use this certain knot again.

‘I mean you’re the one that’s putting words in my mouth.’ You replied, shrugging your shoulders,fully aware what this attitude of yours would bring should you keep it up.

Zayne’s jaw twitched unseeingly, he knew what you were doing and also knew that you were blatantly aware of what you were doing and so he tears this theory out by reaching a hand out, grabbing you by the restraint and swiftly pulled you closer to him until your chests were practically touching. Your eyes flickered to every inch of his face to see any signs but nothing; His face was still perfectly set in stone as it usually aside from his eyes, his eyes were glittering with an unusual look to them as they peered at you, that you couldn’t help but feel a little hot and flustered under such a unique gaze.

He then leans his head towards your ear and whispers in a low falsetto, ‘Would you like to find out just how pleasurable being tied can be?’ He drawls softly. ‘I can happily show you and help you get closely acquainted with human anatomy.’

[a-certain-romance]

No One Knows

Characters/Ships: Yandere!Ruan Mei x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut written by a minor, Possessiveness, Fingering

For years, Ruan Mei has struggled with her ongoing research in the origins of life. Failed experiment after failed experiment. The emanator she created was only a short-lived example of all those years of hard work. Maybe it was too ambitious. And frankly, too large to manage. She needed something more stable, and tangible for long enough to be studied.

Through hours upon hours of trial and error, she finally succeeded in the creation of her most prized possession: you, her perfect little creation.

Her attempts at creating life were finally fulfilled with the help of that trailblazer from the Asteral Express. You were timid at first. Her modifications gave you the knowledge and ability to speak and read, but it took some time to warm up to her. Ruan Mei desperately wanted to study you immediately, but she’ll settle for simple observations until she gains your trust.

It was a slow process. If Ruan Mei has learned anything, it’s that she needs to learn how to show you affection. She spent more time with you when it didn’t involve her research. Although she’s been apathetic for some time, you’ve given her the courage to step out of her comfort zone. For the sake of this project of course.

Whatever she did worked. You eventually became as clingy as her past experiments. It’s only natural for you to adopt that same loving nature as the others have, but this time she’s enabled it a little more. She lets you be in the same room when she’s doing side projects and shares her knowledge of the biological and ecological aspects. She shares a lot of her pastries with you, and even makes the time to bake things with you. Sometimes when she’s spending a lot of time writing, she lets you lay your head on her lap for a while. She used to only see you as an influential accomplishment, but now she feels a sense of protective ownership over you.

She can’t keep you at the space station forever. Even though Herta doesn’t mind, she’s starting to get a little too curious about what Ruan Mei is keeping in that unoccupied level of the station.

And worst of all, her little creation is starting to wonder what’s behind those big steel doors that keep her locked in. And that just won’t do. She’s seen you giving those doors such longing looks, seen you tap and occasionally scratch the glass window. She makes a mental note to re-enforce the durability—‘just in case’. She knows she should observe your new behaviors a little closer, but she came to that conclusion a little too late the day she caught you stealing her card.

Were you…actually trying to escape? But why? She transformed this entire area just for you. Her past experiments have prepared her for what it takes to give something life; from food to sunlight to entertainment to company, what more can you possibly need?

“I’ll show you how much you need me.”

Her kisses are feather light at first. She pins you against the very door you intended on breaching. Even the pinning is gentle. You could probably struggle against her, but something tells you that she can easily overpower you with enough motivation.

Just as gently, her knee pressed right against your core. Her lips brush against your cheek, “Do you want more?” She asks sweetly. A little too sweetly. You shake your head, and she flips you around forcefully. In her breathy voice commands: “Hands against the door.”

Your palms shakily press against the surface. “Perfect,” she muses.

She strokes here hands all along your body, eventually settling on your waist. “Look at the way your body reacts to my touch. You’d miss this if you left me.” She kisses and nips your skin with satisfaction as her lips move down your neck.

“Only I can make you feel like this. I created you; I know your body like the back of my hand,” her thumb tugs at your waistband, causing your breath to hitch, “See? Spread your legs for me…yes, just like that, wider. That’s my girl.”

She rolls your pants down carefully to the floor, prompting you to kick them off. Your underwear follows soon after. She returns to her stance behind you. Her gloved hand finds its way to your entrance, and her middle finger is the first to push past your folds. “Be good for me.” She rasps, planting kisses around your shoulder blade.

Your slick coats her finger with every stroke. She retracts from you for just a moment to bite her soaked glove off with her teeth. She tosses it behind her before returning to your inviting warmth with an added finger. She sighs pleasurably, almost nothing is obstructing her skin from yours.

Her other hand forces you to look out the window as she scissors her fingers inside you. The glass is somewhat clouded from your panting, but you can make out the sight of how her green eyes bore into yours.

Her fingers curl and rub feverishly against your sweet spot. Your body shudders as you inch closer to your climax. “Let go,” she moans, “let go and cum for me.” Your slick spurts through her slender fingers as you climax.

As you come down, Ruan Mei whispers a few “good girl”s as she kisses your neck. Her arms wrap around your body possessively with no intention of letting go.

She’ll make arrangements for a more permanent residence to keep you close. No one knows of your existence, and she intends to keep it that way.

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Cherry Bomb (pt. 3)

Remus Lupin x f!reader, James Potter x f!reader (mentioned), Sirius Black x f!reader (mentioned)

warnings: smut, p in v, i think it’s protected atp idk, fingering, underage smoking, very dom remus, long af but omg i’m so in love with it

summary: the last part of your plan is far harder to achieve than the first two and it’s far more complicated.

word count: 5k

a/n: ahhh here’s the last part (i think?) anyway sorry it’s long i got carried away but ugh i love remus so much. sorry if my characterization is off, ever since atyd i see him as sarcastic. yeah i love this, hope you guys do too :)

~~~

Out of all the marauders, Remus Lupin was by far the most liked. He was quiet, but not invisible. He was the most sensible out of all the boys and the most polite. Though he did tend to be witty and sarcastic, he was kind at heart. But he was also the hardest one to get close to. Quiet, reserved, beautiful Remus with his nose always stuck in a book. There was always something about him that made girls fall fast. But that was the thing. It was always so easy to fall in love with him. So, if one ever wanted to shag Remus Lupin, they would have to deal with the consequences of loving him. Because he was nothing like his mates. He didn’t shag just anyone. No. He had to choose you. And to be chosen by him was the biggest accomplishment and the biggest curse. Because once you get him, you will never want to let him go.

~~~

Avoiding two of the marauders is nearly impossible. Each corner you turn it seems you run into one of them, or both. And each time their eyes find you they show the same expressions. Confusion. Frustration. Perhaps even a bit of sadness. You debate throwing away the entire plan daily. It’s unfair, the way you’re playing with their minds. But the lingering knowledge that you’re so close to completing the plan entirely keeps you going. Because surely, all your hurt feelings can’t be for nothing.

Right?

You speak to James only once after your shag in the broom closet. It’s a week or two after, he’s been chasing you around, and you’ve been avoiding him. But you decide he deserves some amount of closure. Sweet, lovely, innocent James. You find him alone in the library and take your opportunity. The way he smiles when he sees you approaching makes your heart ache terribly and regret fills your stomach.

“Y/n I’ve been trying to catch you, how are you?” He asks once you’re close enough to hear his quiet tone.

He looks so happy, you feel sick.

“Yeah, I just you know… haven’t been feeling too great,” you lie.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sit if you’d like, I’ve been attempting to study for the potions test. Aren’t you good with potions? Could you help me possibly?”

You inhale deeply. You could really use a cigarette right now. You’ve broken things off with guys before, but this feels different. In the other cases, you’ve had reasons. For this case though, you have none. James is innocent in all of this. It makes you nauseous.

“Listen, James,” you start, your voice soft. “What happened was great, I enjoyed it a lot, but it was a mistake. I like you, you’re very sweet, but I don’t think we should do anything else.”

Watching his face fall is by far the most horrid sight you’ve ever seen. All the happiness fades fast and leaves behind a bitter frown. He looks down at his papers, toying with his quill.

“I see…” He looks back up, a fake smile on his lips. “That’s alright, it was fun. I’m not really looking for anything serious like that either, so I understand.”

You swallow hard. “I really do like you James, believe me, but it’s just not the right time for this.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

“And...” You pause for a second. “You won’t tell anyone?”

He nods. “Not a soul. This will be our little secret.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Well then, I’ll let you get back to your potions. Thanks for... everything.” You give him one last smile before turning on your heels and making your way out of the library.

You almost put an end to it right then and there, but then you see the tallest marauder walking down the hall with Peter. His hands are in his pockets, his book bag slung over one of his shoulders. For a split second his eyes meet yours as the two of you pass each other.

He gives you a small awkward smile.

Fuck.

~~~

To catch Remus Lupin alone you must take the risk of losing your house some points. You wait a week before making your move, for safety. After your conversation with James, the only marauder to pay attention to you is Sirius. He’s still set on telling everyone that the two of you shagged, but thankfully, not many people believe him. Not even his best mates.

It’s a very quiet night when you sneak out after curfew. A night you know one particular prefect is doing rounds on his own. You wander through the castle quietly, making sure to avoid the areas in which teachers lurk. Goosebumps form on your skin, you should’ve worn more than a tee-shirt and sweatpants, but you needed to look casual.

As you’re about to turn a corner, you spot Filch. Panic surfaces inside you and you quickly turn around and run as quietly as you can down the hall. You take a few turns and just as you’re about to relax, you hear a voice.

“It’s past curfew, what are you doing out here?”

Your heart stops for a completely different reason.

It’s him.

You turn to face him and shyly smile. You watch his face change as he recognizes you.

“Oh, it’s you.” He narrows his eyes. “Off to shag my mate again, are you?”

“I never shagged him,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. “And I’m out for a completely different reason.”

“What reason is that?”

You shrug. “Personal reason.”

“Ah well, hope it was worth losing your dear Ravenclaws ten points. Get back to your dorm before someone else catches you,” he says, turning away from you.

You watch as he walks down the hall, not giving you another thought. You would’ve replied sarcastically if you could speak for that matter. Once he disappears, all you can do is shamefully make your way back to your house's common room, now understanding why James likes being a chaser.

~~~

Some time passes before you get Remus alone. Each time you see him during the day, he’s accompanied by one of the marauders and you can’t sneak out during his rounds again because your fellow Ravenclaws were not pleased. You’re smoking behind the castle when you happen to finally catch him walking alone. You immediately take your chance.

“Lupin!” You call out to him. You get up from the bench you were sitting on and walk to him.

Thankfully, he stops walking and turns back to face you. “Y/l/n. Is there something I can help you with?”

You can tell from the tone of his voice he’s trying to be polite; it makes your insides warm.

“Yeah, actually there is. I was wondering if you could help me with my transfiguration essay. You’re the smartest lad in the year,” you answer, taking a small puff of your cigarette. You hold it up to offer him a hit, he shakes his head.

“Those things will kill you,” he says. “But I suppose I can help a bit. I assume you’re free right now?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Let me take a look.”

A smirk forms on your lips, and you let out a breath of smoke purposely into his face. “Take a girl to dinner first.”

He swats the air, fanning away the smoke. “Are you going to show me or not? I have things to take care of.”

“Sorry.” You hate the way your face burns. “Come see.”

The two of you make your way to the bench and you take out your essay. Truthfully, you are already finished with it, and you think your work is good. But much to your dismay, only a few seconds after he starts reading it, Remus takes out a muggle pen and begins crossing things off.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your spelling is shit, and you’ve contradicted your argument at least twice already and I’m only on the second paragraph,” he answers, his eyes glued to the paper. “Maybe if you spent more time studying than shagging and smoking, you’d have this information down. We reviewed it a few weeks ago.”

You scoff. “I have not been shagging.”

“Sure,” he mumbles, crossing off another sentence.

“I swear, Sirius is mistaken.” You lie.

He turns his head, his green eyes meeting yours. “Who said I was referring to Sirius?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you cough due to the smoke. Is he talking about James? Your heart rate increases, and anxiety flows throughout your body. Did James tell? You catch your breath, your eyes meeting his again. He looks unamused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t shagged anyone in months, not that it’s your business,” you say.

“You should really practice more on your lying; you are shit at it.” He hands your essay back to you and stands. “I left a few notes of some things you should change, but my biggest suggestion is that you reread the textbook, and perhaps find some more... enticing quotes. Is that all then? Like I said, I’ve got some other business to tend to.”

For a few seconds, all you can do is stare up at him, your mouth hung open ever so slightly. You previously thought Remus Lupin to be a timid boy who went along with the rest of the marauders because he couldn’t say no. Now though, you realize all those assumptions are wrong. He’s quiet, but not timid.

“What do you know?” You question.

“Quite a lot, thanks for the chat.”

Before you can even think of a response, he’s already walking away. You can’t let him slip away again.

“I’ll get it out of you Remus Lupin if it’s the last thing I do!”

He turns his head over his shoulder and chuckles, the sound sending warmth straight to your core. “We’ll see.”

And just like that, he’s gone, and you’re left flustered with rosy cheeks.

You did save the best for last.

~~~

Falling for the third marauder is easier than anything. Almost unconsciously, you begin to fail classes so that he can help you with work, you learn his route around the castle to see him at least once a day, and you sneak around the castle some nights, but he always ends up finding you somehow.

One night, a little over a month after you’ve started your game, something unexpected happens. You’re out after curfew once again, tiptoeing around the castle to see where the tallest prefect is when he appears from behind you. Like usual, he crosses his arms and clears his throat, making you quickly spin on your heels to face him. How does he always sneak up on you?

“How many times am I going to catch you before you start following the rules? I’m sure your fellow Ravenclaws aren’t too pleased with you,” he says. You look up at him, a genuine blush on your face. He narrows his eyes. “You want me to catch you, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You look away nervously. The plan never involved gaining real feelings for any of the marauders, yet here you were. Standing in your sleepwear after curfew with your heart racing in your chest at the mere sight of one of them. Though you try to deny it, you know deep down you’re crushing hard, and you know it will only end badly.

“I uh... I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just on a little stroll back from a smoke that’s all,” you reply after a few seconds, your hands anxiously fiddling with one another.

He rolls his eyes. “Listen, I don’t know what your objective is or has been, but whatever it is it’s not going to happen.”

“Remus I-”

“Sirius, I understand, he would sleep with the giant squid if it had tits. But James, really? He may be more of an... active person than myself but he has far more feelings than you think.” He takes a step forward; he towers over you. You swear you can’t breathe. “You may have fooled them, but you don’t fool me. I can see right through you y/l/n and you’re sick.”

You move backward; he follows each step. “You... you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?”

Your back hits a wall, panic rises in you. Your eyes fall to his hands, and a bit of relief washes over you when you see he’s not holding his wand. But then another thought takes over. Is he going to hit you? When you look back up, he’s only inches away from you, his hazel eyes piercing down into yours. He places one of his hands on the wall next to your head. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, really. I’m sorry,” you mumble, your words genuine.

“So, what was your goal then? To shag all of us and take your pick of who’s best? Peter would’ve been far easier than James you know,” he replies.

“It was just a stupid idea, I don’t know. It didn’t mean anything deeper I swear.” You’re rambling now, the threat of tears evident in the burning of your eyes. You try your hardest to keep any from falling, you can’t cry in front of Remus.

He sighs. “You’re lucky Sirius is oblivious, and James is trusting. If they knew the truth, you’d have the whole school against you.”

“Wait, they don’t know?”

He rolls his eyes again. “Of course not. If they knew you’d be getting hexed almost all day every day.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I notice a lot more than people think. Did you honestly think no one saw you go up to our dorm with Sirius that night at the party? And did you honestly think none of us would notice James’s change in attitude? You think you know more than you actually do,” he explains.

For a few seconds, the two of you only stare at each other. You don’t know what to think. You should’ve known this would happen. Someone was going to catch on. You wish you had never done it. Any of it. Everything would be so much simpler if you’d simply stayed the quiet Ravenclaw girl who never interacted with the marauders. But you can’t go back, no matter how much you wish you could. You can only make it right moving forward.

“I’m sorry, truly Remus.” There’s so much more you want to say, but you can’t. You can’t fathom the words.

“If you’re truly sorry, stop. I won’t be the next pawn in your game,” he says, his voice slightly lower than before. You watch the way his eyes shift, the way he licks his lips, and moves his head down so he’s almost eye level with you. Your breath catches in your throat. “I suppose I pity you though because you and I both know this has become more than a game to you now.”

You turn your head, but he grabs your chin and forces you to look him in the eye.

“You fancy me.”

“I-”

“Don’t try to deny it. Like I said, I can see right through you.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over now,” you whisper, a tear nearly escaping one of your eyes.

He inhales deeply and you notice his eyes trail over your body for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “You’re right. It is over now.”

He lets go of you and backs away and for the first time since encountering him tonight, you feel like you can breathe normally. You stay on the wall, silently catching your breath as he walks further down the hall. But just before he’s about to turn a corner, he looks back at you.

“Or perhaps it’s simply my turn to play with you. Oh, and that’s twenty points from Ravenclaw. Goodnight.”

You fall asleep with his words burning in the back of your mind, and an ache between your thighs.

~~~

After that night, everything is different. You try to avoid them all and go back to the way things were before, you really do. You scribble out the page in your journal with their names, you keep your head down in the halls, and you skip the parties they host. It’s Remus who’s begun playing. Somehow, he continues knowing where you are and appears at random times. Whether you’re studying in the library, and he just so happens to need a book from that section, or you’re out by the lake with your friends and he walks by. You know it’s intentional, but it still manages to leave you hot and bothered each time.

“I thought you said the plan was off?” Your friend says one particular day when the two of you are eating lunch.

You look at her, confused. “It is.”

“Then why has Lupin been staring at you this whole meal?”

Instinctively, you look across the Great Hall and immediately catch those all-too-familiar hazel eyes. He doesn’t look away, at least, not for a moment. He stares at you with no shame, and even from the distance you can sense something different from the look in his eyes. Before you can fully figure it out though, he turns his attention back to the other three marauders.

“Did you shag him?” Your friend asks.

“No, I told you what happened,” you answer, focusing your attention back on the food on your plate. “I wish he’d stop.”

Your friend laughs. “Nah, you don’t.”

You hate how she’s right.

~~~

Nearly two months have passed when you finally confront Remus.

You’re sitting in the astronomy tower, a cigarette between your lips, and a scowl on your face. You can’t take it any longer. Wasn’t he the one who told you off? Wasn’t he the one who told you to stop the games? He was. You know it. So, why has he kept it going? He had said that it was his turn, but that was many weeks ago. How long did he plan to keep this going? You let out a cloud of smoke, frustration taking over your body at the thoughts.

“How many points shall I take off tonight? Forty? Fifty?” You feel him sit next to you, but you refuse to look at him. “You haven’t been out after dark in a while though, I’ll give you that.”

“What do you want Lupin?” You ask, annoyed.

He chuckles. “What do any of us want really?”

You look at him with a straight face, hating the way butterflies take over your stomach at the sight of him so close to you. Despite the scars on his face, you find him more beautiful than any boy. More than James, even more than Sirius. There is something so extraordinary about Remus you can’t explain. You wish it would go away.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” You question after taking another drag from the cigarette.

“I haven’t spoken to you in over a month, I don’t know what-”

“Yes, you know what I mean.” You cut him off. You exhale your last breath of smoke and throw the cigarette off the tower. “I’m trying to leave this all in the past and move on like you said but you’ve made it quite difficult.”

“Seems you don’t like the taste of your medicine love. It’s hard, isn’t it? Trying to avoid someone when they always seem to end up exactly where you are. It gets rather annoying, doesn’t it? Especially when you secretly enjoy it,” he replies.

Your eyes meet again and that familiar trouble to breathe begins. He’s looking at you in a way you don’t know how to feel about. It’s not like Sirius’s drunken stare or James’s needy stare. No. This one, though the same lustful, is far deeper.

“Just tell me what you want Remus,” you eventually say, your voice lower than before. “What do you want?”

“I want you to get out of my head. I want to look at you and feel nothing. I want everything to go back to how it was before you decided to fuck with my friends and me,” he answers.

You swear your heart stops for a few beats. “Then let all of that happen.”

“You think I haven’t tried?”

You stay silent.

“I never wanted this, any of it.”

You look down. “I know.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Merlin, I give up, you win y/n. You bloody win.”

You’re about to ask what he exactly means, but he acts faster. In the blink of an eye, his lips are on yours. You can’t grasp it at first. You’re kissing Remus Lupin; Remus Lupin is kissing you. The boy who unintentionally caught your heart is kissing you. It’s unbelievable, it’s undeniable, and it’s far from underrated. You don’t hesitate to kiss him back, even through your initial shock.

His hands cup your cheeks, his thumbs stroke your skin ever so gently. You wrap your arms around his neck, one of your hands toying with the hair on the back of his head. He’s a good kisser, very good. That’s why when he parts your lips, you protest.

“Why did you-”

“If we’re going to do this, you have to promise me it’s not a game anymore y/n.”

Your head is fuzzy from how intently he’s looking at you. “I promise Remus, that game has been over for a while.”

“You swear it?”

“I do. Do you?”

“Of course.” There are a few seconds of silence before he sighs, one of his fingers now playing with a piece of your hair. “We have to keep it secret.”

“I know,” you say.

He brushes the piece of hair behind your ear, the intimate gesture sending tingles throughout your body. “I don’t want it to be a quick shag either,” he adds.

“What do you want it to be then?”

The smile he gives you makes your stomach flip. “More.”

~~~

More from Remus Lupin is everything.

After that night, the two of you begin something you don’t exactly know how to name. You would call it a secret relationship, but the thought of that gives you a stomachache. The two of you don’t interact during the day, at least not where anyone else can see. He passes you in the hall as if you’re a stranger, but the second he catches you around a corner in an empty hallway he showers you with affection. And at night when the two of you sneak off, he touches you in ways you never thought possible.

He shows you so many new places in the castle you never knew of. Secret passages, secret rooms, all of it. You never question how he knows all of it, you only hold his hand tighter as he guides you. When he suggests a more secluded place to meet, you of course agree. Though, you never expect that place to be the shrieking shack.

“There’s no way you’re serious,” you say. The two of you are outside, near the Whomping Willow. You make sure to stay out of its reach. “The shrieking shack? That place is haunted, the ghosts don’t even go there because of how scary it is.”

“Obviously I’m not Sirius love, you only shagged him once,” he sarcastically replies, rolling his eyes to emphasize his joke.

“Remus.”

“The shrieking shack is not haunted, believe me, that’s only a silly rumor made so that people won’t go to it. Me, James, Sirius, and Peter go all the time. It has a bed, and given our activities I say we utilize that,” he explains.

You bite your lip. “Are you positive?”

He moves a bit closer to you and places a hand on your shoulder, leaning down so he’s at eye level with you. “You know I would never let anything hurt you, you can trust me.”

“Alright, but how are we supposed to get there so late? It’s in Hogsmeade,” you question.

He chuckles. “Haven’t you learned by now the marauders have many secret ways?”

“Yes, but we’re not in the castle right now how are we to- Remus don’t go any closer you’re going to get hurt you-” You pause, your mouth hung open as you watch the whomping willow go completely still. “How did you...”

“Secrets love, now come, it’s getting late,” he says, holding a hand out to you.

You don’t hesitate to take his hand and follow him into the tree, nothing else is said.

Surprisingly, the walk isn’t too long. It’s dark, gloomy, and a bit cold, but it’s not terrible. At the end of the tunnel, there’s a door. Something in Remus’s posture shifts, almost as if he’s anxious. You squeeze his hand to try to reassure him of whatever he needs, he gives you a smile through the dark that makes your cheeks warm.

The shrieking shack isn’t big, not at all. It’s a simple building with a few rooms and a short staircase. Remus brings the two of you to what you presume is the bedroom though the only indicator is a mattress, blanket, and pillow on the floor. There’s a small fireplace in the room as well, shockingly full of wood and some candles placed near the mattress. The entire shack is creaky and dusty, but you don’t mind. As long as there’s no ghosts, it’s perfect. Remus lets go of your hand and moves to start a fire. You sit down on the mattress and light the candles around.

“What do you guys use this place for?” You ask.

“It’s just a place we come to sometimes when we don’t want to be around other people,” he answers. His back is still turned to you, you could stare at it all day. “Sirius was the first one to discover it wasn’t haunted.”

“Oh? How did he find that out?”

“He’s always been the bravest out of us, though I think he just wanted another rule to break.”

You chuckle. “That sounds like him.”

He finally stands and turns to face you, a bright fire burning behind him. “You would know, you shagged him.”

“Oh, shut up,” you say as you slide off your shoes.

He begins to walk to you. “Can I ask you a question?”

“This context doesn’t seem good, but yes you can,” you reply.

“Be completely honest, out of the three of us, who’s the best?”

He’s standing right in front of you now. You look up at him, a coy smile on your lips, and begin to untie his shoelaces. “You are of course.”

“For some reason, I think your answer is biased,” he says with a laugh.

You trail your hands up his legs after he steps out of his sneakers, stopping once you reach his belt buckle. It quickly gets undone. “What would make you say that?”

He laughs again. “Just a hunch I guess.”

Your moment of control is taken fast when he pushes you down on the mattress, his lips attacking yours. It isn’t a lie though; he is the best. Unlike with Sirius and James, you share such deeper feelings for Remus. Each time he touches you, you practically melt into the palm of his hand. He’s caring. He’s gentle, but rough when need be. Though the two of you argue sometimes, it always is resolved with a hug, a kiss, or a shag. So, in the simplest of words, Remus Lupin is the perfect boy in every way.

All your clothes are discarded quickly, his too. He kisses you deeply as he uses his fingers on you. Sometimes you wonder where he’s learned all his skills from, but even thinking about him with another girl has started to make your stomach hurt. Instead, you focus on how good two of his fingers feel inside you. They’re so long, so slender. More than once in class you’ve been completely distracted by the sight of his hands, specifically his fingers, even more specifically when he’s wearing rings on them. They feel just as you imagine, extraordinary.

When you cum, you’re moaning a mess into his mouth, your body shaking. He milks every last bit of your orgasm out of you before stopping. You watch through heavy lids as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum, the sight makes you audibly groan.

“I need you,” you whisper, running one of your hands through his hair.

“Do you?” There’s something in the tone of his voice mixed with the way he’s looking at you that makes your heart ache in your chest.

You nod. “In so many ways Rem.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

He moves inside you slowly at first, but he finds a decent pace after a few minutes. Because of his height, you weren’t at all surprised at the size of his cock. It’s by far the biggest you’ve ever encountered and the best. Though sometimes it leaves you sore, it always leaves you in a daze of dopamine.

Remus struggles to keep his head at your level as he fucks you. He presses soft kisses to your forehead, one of his hands intertwined with yours. You’ve never felt such intimacy in your life, it almost makes tears form in your eyes.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he says, his voice shaky. “Even if it’s not true.”

“I’m yours, Rem, completely,” you reply. His hips meet yours harder, and you moan. “All yours I’m all yours.”

Neither of you lasts much longer than that.

In the aftermath as the two of you hold each other, he rests his head on your chest. You run your fingers through his hair softly, the sound of his breathing like music to your ears. It’s at this moment you realize just how deeply you care for him. You hate what you did with that silly plan, but you don’t think you’d change it. If ending up in this moment only came from the plan, you’d do it over a million times.

“Is this real?” Remus asks after some time.

You sigh and press a kiss to the top of his head. “Yes. This is real.”

And so, it is.

[doitforbangchan]

Cross My Heart- Kim Hongjoong

Masterlist

did i spend my time writing this instead of working on Abanb? yes yes i did. But ive had brainrot for Joong and needed to get this out sooo..please enjoy :)

ps- this fic may be triggering for some so please see the warnings!

Brothers best friend! Hongjoong x reader (afab)

Warnings: Afab/fem reader, smut, unprotected p in v, cream pies, dubcon/noncon, fingering, drinking, drink spiking, drunk reader, coercion, cursing, kissing, dom!hongjoong, inexperienced (not virgin)! Reader, pet names, crying, name calling, possesive! Hongjoong, Hongjoong is a bad person, and probably more. Not proofread :)

WC: 4.5k

Hongjoong looked good tonight. Too good. Sinfully good. He was wearing dark black jeans and an equally dark ripped tank that accentuated his slender waist perfectly. He sported his normal rings and chains, adding a few more for the occasion. Hongjoongs hair was platinum blonde- he seemed to have gotten it done within the last few months since you’ve seen him. If you had less self control you’d be drooling. 

For the last decade of your life you’ve had the biggest crush on Hongjoong. The way he carries himself always captivated you. From the swag in his walk to the charm in his smirk. He made you weak in the knees. Not to mention he was respectful and kind to everyone- especially to you. Though you would never dream of acting on your feelings for the man for one reason and one reason only.  

He was your brother's best friend. 

And your brother, Seonghwa, had made it very clear to you his best friend was off limits. 

You had expected him to be here. You knew he wouldn’t let Hwa down, especially when your brother was celebrating the biggest accomplishment of his life- his college graduation. Still; even though you knew he would be here in your home seeing him in person did nothing to slow the rapid beating of your heart in your chest. There was something so docile and charming about him that you couldn’t let go of. Maybe it was the way he leaned into you when he told you a secret. Or maybe it was the way he always made you feel included even when your brother didn’t want you around. 

The party was in full swing; your family home flooded with people all here to celebrate your brother. Some were people you knew, others were friends of your brother. Your parents were gracious enough to let him throw this ‘gathering’ while they were away for the weekend. You were both fully grown adults and they knew you could be trusted. 

From your spot across the room you could see your brother and Hongjoong playing beer pong. More like Joong playing beer pong while your brother swayed and missed every shot. It was only 11pm and your brother was already trashed, his pregaming taking more of a toll on him than he anticipated. 

You watched as a ball from the opponents sunk into the very last cup in their team, Hongjoog throwing his head back in frustration as the other team cheered for their victory. He must have sensed your eyes on him because suddenly he turned his head and made direct eye contact with you. He offered you a gentle smile and a small wave that you returned. Then he lifted the last solo cup of beer up as if cheersing you, and he tilted his head and downed the liquid. 

Pushing off the wall, you made your way into the kitchen to grab a drink. You didn’t plan on drinking tonight. You wanted to stay coherent so you could make sure nothing bad happened to your parents home, so you only grabbed a cup full of soda. 

Once you had your cup full you turned around from the counter but you were met with a hard surface. You almost lost balance but suddenly you were steadied by strong hands. 

“Careful there, Y/n. You almost dropped your drink.” 

You could feel your face burning as you looked to see the playful twinkle in the gorgeous eyes of Hongjoong. “Oh, t-thank you Joong.” Fuck you can’t belive you stuttered. You’ve known this guy for almost half your life, get a fucking grip. 

“No problem.” He let you go and you felt your breath return to you. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.” He didn’t have a drink in his hand so he reached around you and grabbed a bottle of tequila and a sprite. 

“I’ve been good, just working a lot to pay off my school debt. Ya know, same ole same ole.” You shrugged and sipped your drink.

He nodded, “Yeah me too. Things at the studio have kept me pretty busy.” Hongjoong graduated a year ago and immediately got a job in music production. He was so young and already living his dream. You admired him for it. You watched as he poured himself a shot and poured a second one. “You like tequila?” 

You shook your head, “Normally yes, but not tonight. Thank you though.” 

He gave you a pouty lip “Aw come on, not even one to celebrate?” He was already pushing it towards you as he lifted his own. 

You tilted your head side to side in contemplation before giving in with a small nod. “Ok, only one.” He used his fingers to cross his heart dramatically which made you giggle. He gave you that charming smile of his while he handed you your shot. You clinked shot glasses and both of you downed the liquor. 

You cringed as you felt the burn of the alcohol go down your throat, and you immediately had to chase it down with a sip of your soda. You mentally cursed whoever bought this cheap tequila (knowing it was you). 

Hongjoong patted your shoulder as you put your glass back down, laughing in jest at your disgusted face. “Yeah it’s pretty terrible.”  You were a known lightweight and you could feel the effects of the liquor already but you held yourself together well. Or so you thought. 

Faintly from the living room you could hear your favorite song playing. You gasped in realization, your tipsy brain getting excited. “My song is on!” 

Hongjoong chuckled and reached for your hand. “Let’s go then.” 

You ignored the fluttering in your stomach when he grabbed your hand, and looked at him confused. “Go where?” 

“To dance? This is your favorite song, isn’t it?” He said it like it was the most basic answer in the world, still giving you that playful yet dashing smile of his. 

“Oh.. I don’t know…” Your mind immediately went to your brother and how upset he would be if he found you dancing with Joong. You went to pull your hand back but he held on gently. “Hwa might be upset..” 

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Doll, I don’t think he’s in his right mind to be upset about anything.” He nodded towards where he could see Seonghwa leaning against the wall, attempting to flirt with a pretty girl he graduated with.  “Plus it’s just a dance. Nothing nefarious.” 

You found yourself slowly nodding in agreement, one little dance couldn’t hurt. Right? 

“Alright, just one.” You held up a single finger. He crossed his heart once again, then laced your fingers together.

You went to walk away but he stopped you. “Don’t forget your drink. You don’t want some weirdo spiking it or something.” You nodded as you grabbed your cup then allowed him to pull you into the living room. 

---------------------------

One dance turned into two, then three. You don’t know why but you could feel your inhibitions leave you the more you danced and by the time you finished your drink. By dance number three you could tell something was up. You were abnormally drunk for only taking one shot. The pumping music and the crowds of partygoers only added to it. 

Hongjoong was being respectful, keeping his hands on your waist or your hands and spinning you around. He didn’t try to kiss you or hold you too tight even when you grabbed him to balance yourself  during the current slow song. 

“You doing alright, sweetheart?” He asked in a low tone, concern for you lacing his voice. 

“I don’ know wha’s wrong wif me..” Your words were slightly slurred. You could hear the drunkenness in your voice and it made you embarrassed. It was then it occurred to you the situation you still found yourself in. Pressed up against Hongjoong. Your crush- who was off limits. You pushed yourself away from him hastily, making him bristle when you almost fell. “I gotta go.” 

“Wait a sec, doll, what’s wron-” 

“What is goin on over here?” It was Seonghwa who interrupted Hongjoongs question. Somehow he had managed to drunkenly stagger into the living room without either of you knowing. He too leaned on Hongjoong for support. His hazy gaze settled on you, “Y/n are you ok?” 

You started to nod but it turned into you shaking your head ‘no’. “Hwa..” 

“I think she had a little too much to drink.” Hongjoong said, trying to hold both of you up but making it look effortless. 

Your brother hummed, narrowing his glossed over eyes at you. Then he sighed, “Looks like I’ll have to take care of her. Time for bed.” He went to grab your arm but he almost lost his balance, being more drunk than he appeared (which was already very drunk). Hongjoong didn’t miss the way Seonghwa muttered under his breath about you being a nuisance. 

You wanted to protest but Hongjoong cut you off. “I can take her up to her room. You should enjoy your party.” He pointed behind Hwa, “Plus there's a pretty little minx giving you eyes over there.” 

Seonghwa snapped his neck around to see the girl from earlier, giving him a wave of her fingers and a wink. He turned back to Hongjoong, “You’ll make sure she gets to bed?” Hongjoong made a cross over his heart. “Damn you really are my best friend. Thanks man, I owe you one.” And with that, the boy slinked off back to his new conquest. 

Hongjoong chuckled at the actions of his best friend, then turned his attention back to you. With no warning he scooped you up into his arms. You shrieked as you were suddenly lifted from the ground. “Waahhhhh!” 

“Calm down, doll. I’m taking you to bed.” He soothed you, walking through the crowds. He ignored the hoots and hollers people tossed at you both, only smirking in response. Joong stepped over a few wasted people who sat on the stairs. If you had your wits about you you would have swooned over how strong he is. 

Thankfully there was no one else trying to suck face- or worse- in your room, so he was able to set you down with no delay. You faintly recognized the minute sound of the lock on your door being turned, but you chalked it up to residuals from the music that blared downstairs. 

You relaxed into your sheets, happy to be back in your own comforting space. You shut your eyes and sighed. For a moment it was quiet and you had forgotten about the guest who was still in your room with you. 

That is, until you felt his lithe fingers trail up your thigh. Your eyes snapped open as you took in the scene in front of you. Hongjoong had somehow crawled onto your bed without you noticing and had taken his shirt off. 

“J-joong? Wha are you doing?” 

“Shhh, it’s alright, doll.” His usually soothing voice had a light bite to it that made you shiver and his eyes had a fire behind them you’ve never seen before. “M’ just taking care of you like I promised your brother I would.” His touches traveled even further up your thigh, getting closer to slipping under your skirt. 

“Joong I-I don’t think Hwa would like this..” You tried to protest and scoot up your bed but he put his weight down on you, holding you in place. His masculine cologne was making you even dizzier. 

By now his hand was on the cusp of touching your panties, the tip of his finger itching to get that centimeter closer to your core. 

“I’m not in Hwas bed, now am I?” He was almost condescending with the way he spoke to you. It was alarming as he had never once spoken to you like this before. “Aren’t you an adult? Or do you need your older brother's permission for everything?” 

“I don’t need his permission to do anything!” You protested, your voice coming out louder than intended. 

He snorted and sat up again, appearing disappointed. “Nah, I get it. I just thought you liked me, is all. I guess I was wrong.” He turned as if he was about to leave.

Your hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder before he could get off the bed. “No wait! I do like you Hongjoong! I like you so much!” 

He concealed his smirk with a sigh, “Doesn’t seem like it, doll. Seems to me you don’t want me, when all I wanna do is make you feel good.” His words reached deep into your drunken heart, making tears spring to your lashes. 

“No I do, I swear! Please Joongie, don’t be upset with me. M’ sorry!”You got out through your sniffles. You tried again to pull him back to you and thankfully he let you this time. “I do like you, I always have.” 

“Aww don’t cry sweetheart, you’re too pretty for tears.” He cooed and wiped the liquid from your cheeks. For some reason that made you cry even harder, your hold on him tightening even more. “ Gonna be good for me now, doll?” You nodded rapidly, wanting him to be happy with you again. “Thata girl.” 

After another wipe at your cheeks he used that same hand to tilt your face up to his, you held your breath as his eyes flickered down to your lips then back to your eyes. With no more hesitation he crashed your lips together. It was not soft and delicate like you had imagined he would kiss. Instead his mouth was punishing- a dangerous mix of teeth and tongue. He bit at your lip harshly, making you whimper from the pain. 

His hand that was not on your face slithered back down to your center, where this time he touched your most intimate area, running over your panties and to your clit. The contact made you jump and gasp; you weren’t used to being touched this intimately. You weren’t a virgin, but your experience was lackinging for the most part.  And doing this right now with Hongjoong- your brother's best friend- made you feel filthy. But that fact also made you start to get wetter than you ever had before.

Your own hands wrapped around his wrist in an attempt to stop him, but he never slowed or stopped. “Joongie.. We can’t do this.. It’s wrong…”His rubbing on your clit got even more intense as you spoke, his frustration with you coming through, and the pleasure was beginning to become painful. “Ow, y-your hurting me.” 

He turned your head forcefully and ran the thick of his tongue along your cheek, making you shiver, until his lips reached your ear. With a breathy growl he chuckled in your ear. “If you behave and let me play then it won’t hurt. I can feel how wet you are through these flimsy panties, I know you like it. Dirty slut.” 

You yelped when he delivered a punishing smack to your core, “Hongjoong!” 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Doll.” He started nipping and sucking at your neck and your grip on him tightened. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way you drool like a dog over me whenever I come around. You always act so innocent and shy, as if you haven’t been eye fucking me for years, makes me so fucking hard.” 

You couldn’t even breathe let alone move, the lust and terror combined were making you stiff and compliant. You could not believe Hongjoong, the sweetest and kindest man you had ever met - the boy you were raised around- your Joongie; was doing this dastardly act to you. You couldn’t decide if you loved this side of him or hated it. 

There was a part of your brain that was happy to have any part of him you could get so you decided not to fight him anymore. His kisses and touches turned sweeter the more you relaxed, he hummed in satisfaction when your hands released his wrist. 

“There's my sweet girl. You know Joongie will take care of you, yeah?” His tone was smug and you knew he would have a smirk on his face. “I’ll make you feel so good. Cross my heart, doll.” He took your small nod as permission to continue. 

His nimble fingers went to the waistband of your thong and he roughly pulled it down and exposed your now dripping pussy to his view. With no warning he rammed a finger into your hole, making your back arch as he started pumping it in and out of you. “S-shit, Joongie!” 

“You like my fingers inside you? I know you do, your pussy is leaking all over my hand.” He slipped another finger in, now using two and curling the tips until he found the spongy spot inside of you. You moaned lewdly at the sensation, eyes wide in shock. “Oooo I think I found your g-spot. I bet no one has ever touched that special little spot huh sweetheart?” 

You shook your head rapidly, but your lack of verbal response caused him to tut at you then swiftly withdraw from your pussy and deliver another stinging slap to your folds. “N-no one but you Joongie! Only you!” 

He purred and sucked a devilish mark on your neck, “Mmm I like the sound of that. Only me. The way it should be.”

 Both your heart and your core fluttered as he said it. It gave you hope that just maybe he felt the same way about you that you felt for him. Little did you know he always had. 

 He sat up and pulled back from you completely, looking down at you with those demeaning eyes of his. He almost groaned out loud at how fucked out you already looked and he had barely touched you yet. Hongjoong had wanted you for years. He was usually a patient man, but after the years of watching you prance around in little skirts and seeing the ways other guys looked at you, his patience had worn thin. And since you were too caught up in the fact that he was your brother's best friend he knew he had to be the one to take initiative. Thank god you didn’t taste the copious amount of liquor in your drink cup earlier… 

“You’re so beautiful, baby, all spread out and glassy eyed. Mmm I could just eat you up.” He sucked on the fingers that had previously been in you, both of you whining at the lewd act. “Fuck, so tasty too. Gonna have to feast on this pussy, baby.” You clenched your thighs at the thought of him eating you out, making him chuckle darkly. “Seems like my little whore wants that. Too bad, that’ll have to be on the agenda for later. I need you now.” 

He deftly undid his belt which brought your attention to the bulge in the pants. As he pushed down the fabric of both his pants and underwear you were left in shock. 

Holy shit he was HUGE 

You weren’t sure how that was supposed to fit inside you. Apparently Hongjoong could see your trepidation because he smirked and held in a laugh at your wide eyes. “I’ll make it fit sweetheart, don’t worry.” 

When he leaned down over you, caging you in, is when the severity really hit you. Your hands went to his chest as you tried to push him off but he was stronger than you, using his weight to hold you down. “Wait, Joong I-” 

“I’m done waiting. You’ve been teasing me for years, I’m not gonna let you get away with it again. Hold still.” He all but snarled at you as he lined up his tip to your weeping entrance. He ignored your further pleas for him to wait, dragging the thick tip of his member through your slick before he slowly pushed into you. 

You wailed as you felt him impale you. “NNNGGGHHH!” Your arms threw themselves over Hongjoongs shoulders and your nails embedded in his skin so harshly he knew he would have marks for days to come. 

“Holy shit, how are you so fucking tight?” He sounded so desperate already, his need getting the better of him.”You gotta relax for me babe, you might snap my dick off.” 

Thankfully he gave you a moment to adjust; he knew he was big and he truly didn’t want to hurt you. You took deep breaths and tried to relax. You could feel your walls pulsing around the thick intrusion. Hongjoong was slathering your neck with sloppy kisses in an attempt to distract you from the discomfort. It was the sweetness you craved from him and you could feel yourself loosening up. 

Soon enough your body was pliable enough for him to move. “Good girl.” He praised as he started to move, his hips gyrating to create friction that made both of you moan. You practically purred at his praise and your pelvis subconsciously bucked up into his. “Mm you like when I call you my good girl, don’t you?” He licked at the skin under your ear and nipped there. 

You nodded and tried to answer but the full feeling of him was making it hard for your brain to catch up. “Mhmm” 

He smiled against you and then fully lifted his pelvis until the tip was barely inside, then shoved himself in all at once, bottoming out in one fail swoop. Your eyes screwed shut and your legs automatically wrapped around his waist in an attempt to hold him too you. Though, your efforts were in vain and Hongjoong began to pound into you over and over. 

The glide of him inside of you was otherworldly. This was both the best experience of your life and the worst. On one hand you were so happy to have the man of your dreams here in your bed, making you feel such intense pleasure. On the other hand… 

Something felt so wrong. 

More like something about him felt wrong. The Hongjoong you knew had never been so dominating - demanding- or abrasive. It was thrilling to say the least. 

“You look so good under me, you dirty whore.” 

You whined at the name, feeling ashamed at the gush of arousal that came from you at his malicious words. “M’ your whore Joongie. Only yours.” 

There was a hiccup in his movements then he was back on beat but this time with even more force. “I like the sound of that. My whore. This pussy is alllll for me, isn’t it?” You nodded and squeezed his shoulders. “No other man will ever touch this perfect pussy ever again. I’ll ruin you enough that no one will even think about touching what’s mine.” 

“Yours! M’ yours!” 

He chuckled and let one of his hands snake down to wear your bodies met, “You are mine. And I take care of things that belong to me.” His agile fingers found your clit with ease and he started to rub the nub with quick, lively movements. 

Your back arched further, pushing your still clothed chest into his bare one. “F-fuck.” You were getting so close, your tipsy state made your high build quicker than ever before; though it could also have something to do with the exact man causing your pleasure. “Joongie..” 

The man could feel you clench down on him and he knew that was a sign you were about to cum. “Go ahead and cum for me. Let me see how fucking gorgeous you look when you cum all over my cock.” 

With his permission you let go. You cried loudly as you crashed over the precipice, your head thrown back and your thighs shaking in ecstasy. Thank god the music was still blaring downstairs or every person in this house would have heard you. 

He groaned at the sight of you trembling and crying below him and felt that he wasn’t going to be far behind. Joong leaned back on his haunches and yanked your hips up onto his lap all while never exiting your center. He wanted to feel you clench like that again; he knew it would throw him right over the edge. 

Before you even finished quivering he took his other hand that wasn’t on your clit, and shoved two of his fingers inside you along with his cock. Now you have truly never felt so damn full in your life. It was almost too much for you to handle. He also sped up the messaging on your clit, the combination sending you jolting into another orgasm. 

“HONGJOONG OH MY GOD” You screamed as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt hit you like a freight train. You could hear a splashing sound and a sudden flooding of wetness all over your inner thighs. 

“Holy shit, you’re fucking squirting! Fuck, that is so fucking hot.” He couldn’t hold it in any longer, with a final hard thrust that felt like it hit your cervix he finally came inside of you. His hot cum coated your inner walls- it was so hot you compared it to getting a brand. Perhaps in his own twisted way that’s what he had done. Branded you as his. 

He let himself fall back onto you as he crashed his lips into your own; both wet with drool. When he pulled away from you, you were both panting. Hongjoong wiped away the remaining tears from your face, stroking your cheeks and looking down at you with the most loving look anyone has ever given you. Your heart was melting and you leaned up and gave him another sweet peck on his lips. 

He accepted your kiss then gave you a few of his own, first on your lips then all over your face, making you giggle. 

He sighed wistfully and flopped down beside you, pulling you up into his arms. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You hummed, curling yourself into him. “I’m so happy you're finally mine.” He pressed another kiss to your head. You both could still feel and hear the vibrations from the loud party. You vaguely wondered if anyone had any clue of the debauchery that had taken place up here. Then another quick thought ran through your head and it made your heart stop.

Hongjoong hadn’t used a condom… 

And you were not on birth control. 

Hongjoongs wandering fingers found your overly sensitive center once again and he deftly pushed the leaking cum back into you. 

“And I always treat what's mine the way they deserve. Cross my heart.”

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

©doitforbangchan

[darlingshane]

do-over

Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: Thanks to your friend Claire you get a chance to rectify a mistake you did many years ago when you went out with Michael the first time around.

CW: 18+, smut, some angst, making out, vaginal sex, smoking, drinking, Michael is a recovering addict, talk about addiction, reader has a secret, old friends, confessions, scars, pet names, brief appearances of Carmy, Richie and Claire.

Word Count: 6,2k

A/N: I realized after writing this that I made Michael younger by saying reader was friends with Claire, and implied that they were all close in age, but it's all really vague. The timelines don't make sense in The Bear anyway, so don't look too closely. This was just for fun. -- Also, reader has a nickname. Don't ask me why, it just came out like that. They simply call her Zu or Zuzu.

— Links: AO3 // Michael Masterlist.

“You remember Mikey and Richie, right?” your friend Claire asks, pointing at the two guys coming into the backyard with Carmy to join the party.

“Hm. I think so,” you say casually before taking a long sip of your glass.

You do remember both, actually.

Michael especially.

It’s hard to forget one of the most embarrassing nights of your life. It was over a decade ago when you had the slim chance to make out with the guy you’ve had a crush on for years and only accomplished to make a fool out of yourself.

It’ll forever haunt you.

Michael finally asked you out at the end of your senior year, and you said yes. You went to a movie, got some food afterward, then you ended at a house party from one of his friends. Everything was going great, you were dancing and laughing, he got close, you got closer. You started kissing and then ended up in one of the rooms. Door closed. That was it. It was only you and him making out and everything was going perfect. It seemed like a dream to find that he wanted you almost as much as you wanted him. Perhaps he wasn’t into you as you were, but it was hard to think critically at that moment with his hands and lips all over you.

Now, you had fooled around before with the only guy you ever dated in high-school, but you never went all the way or ever touched you like Michael’s hands did. And given your inexperience in the field, only a few minutes of heavy petting, and you were ready to explode. There was a surge awakening something in your core that you weren’t too familiar with. Not even your own fingers ever managed to make you feel something that powerful. And when he started pressing himself between your legs that pressure building between your thighs decided to set itself free. All of a sudden, you were clutching your knees so hard to his hips, your whole body trembled underneath as you came in your panties.

You’ve heard about boys precociously coming more often than not, but never realized that was something that could happen to girls too. It made you feel nothing but pure embarrassment. You tried to hide it but all the magic was gone. And after that, you excused yourself to the bathroom to put yourself together and couldn’t handle going back to face him. So, you sneaked out the bathroom window like the biggest dork.

You never talked to him again after that.

Back then, you all ran in the same circles, but you stood away from those circles during the last couple of weeks of school to avoid running into him again. You saw him from afar a couple of times and that was it. Soon after, everyone went on separate ways for work, college or wherever they end up. You, for example, left Chicago after graduating and ended up living a good chunk of those years in Denver. The few times you’ve come to your home city, you never really tried to see him again. You ran into Natalie a handful of times, and saw Carmy when you were visiting Claire but never crossed paths directly with Michael again until today.

“Zu… you and I both know that you do remember him,” Claire nudges your elbow. “Don’t tell me you still wouldn’t hit that today if you could. And you’re single now, so…”

“Please, tell me you didn’t set this up.”

She doesn't deny it, just gives you that obvious look under her framing, evil, perfect eyebrows. Claire knew pretty well you were head over heels for Michael Berzatto once upon a time, but you never told her about that night. It’s probably safe to say he didn’t tell anyone about it either. Otherwise, you’d have heard about it by now. Someone would’ve teased you about it for sure, but no one ever did.

It really takes you aback to see him once more.

You wish she’d have given you the heads-up so you could prepare mentally to see him again. Though, it was a long time ago, you’ve often looked with regret at leaving him hanging. You’ve wondered way too many times what he thought about that night. It's not like he was infatuated with you, as far as you know. He never showed any interest before that week, so it's hard to imagine him being too heartbroken about it.

Carmy glances around looking for the two of you. Claire lifts her arm to call his attention.

“Oh, look, here's your chance.” Your friend teases you as they come closer.

“Cool it, C, please?” you say between teeth and throw back your cup before the three of them come to a stop in front of you.

She beams as Carmy quietly greets you with a one arm short hug.

“You made it! Thought you'd be too cool for a thing like this.”

“Nope, we're two fucking losers showing up at a kegger cause we got nothing better to do,” Richie chuckles. “What are we celebrating again?”

“We're not celebrating anything. We're here for moral support for Kerry. Her boyfriend just broke up with her, and she needed some people around.”

“And you thought that throwing a keg party was a good idea?” Michael finally opens his mouth and his voice just transports you back to that unforgettable night and that last thing he said to you…

You smell so fucking good.

It echoes in your head. It's printed on your skin how those words vibrated when he was tongue-deep devouring your neck.

It’s hard to keep your eyes off Michael. He still has that alluring presence that mesmerized you the first time you met him. Even more so, you'd say. His features are sharper, his stubbled jaw makes him look more rugged than you remember. Though you miss his mop of curls, the crew cut and the fade on his nape suits him really well. His outfit hasn't changed much from a casual t-shirt with jeans. You take in every detail in a once-over. Your stare lingers for a moment on the way the hem of his short sleeves hugging tightly his toned biceps, and how his veins draw the length of his arms. His shoulders seem broader in his relaxed stance. There's a tiny scar adoring his cupid's bow that you only see when he runs his tongue across his lips.

You have to make an effort to tear your eyes away from him before turning into a total creep.

“You guys remember Zuzu here, from school?” Claire's head tilts in your direction while the younger Berzatto links an arm around her waist.

“You two were practically inseparable, how could anyone forget?” Says Richie again, offering his hand up to you. “It's good to see you again, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, it's good to be back,” you shake his hand firmly and then hold it up to Michael, and try to keep your pulse steady when he wraps his large paw around yours.

“You've moved back?” it's Michael that asks this time, trying to lock eyes with you, but you refuse to let him.

“I'm in the process of it. I'm staying with Claire for a couple of weeks while I get all my stuff back, and set up everything…”

You explain while Carmy fetches three cups from the table. He fills them using the keg’s tap, and brings them over. He hands one to Richie. Michael waves his off and lights up a cigarette instead.

“You should ask her to hang out sometime. She doesn't know how to have fun anymore.”

Daggers shootout of your eyes when you glance at Claire.

“I'm here, am I?”

“Yeah but you don't seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I mean you brought me to the most depressing kegger I've ever been to. I didn't know people still did this, but they're lamer than I remember.”

“Pfft, she's got a point there,” Michael scoffs. “I can come up with a hundred things on the spot that would be better than… whatever this is.”

“It was last minute. What would you guys have done, huh?”

“DJ for starters,” Richie chimes in.

“Food,” Michael adds.

“Better beer,” Carmy suggests.

“Strippers,” you say, and they all burst into laughter.

“I could definitely go for some strippers,” Richie holds his hand up for you to give him a high-five, and you quickly smack his palm.

While you empty your cups gulp after gulp, you chat with them for a bit, noticing more often than not Michael staring at you even when you're not the one talking. Maybe it's only in your head, but it still makes you anxious to find his eyes glancing at you as if he was trying to figure you out.

It's certainly not only in your head, cause when your phone beeps in your pocket, you check it out to see a text message from Claire who just coincidentally has her phone in her hand right next to you.

Be careful, big bear is checking you out. — it reads on your screen.

Raising a brow at your annoying, dear friend, you shake your head before typing.

Did you tell him anything about me?

I’d never sell you out.

. . .

You start typing a response but your phone starts ringing, and it’s a call you must take. So you hold that thought, and go find a quieter place away from the house by walking out to the street and pace slowly down the pavement while you talk to your mother for a couple of minutes.

When you go back inside, the group has split. You go around the house to find Richie playing poker with some guys at the dining table. Carmy and Claire are talking with Kerry on the couch, and when you look to the side you spot Michael leaning against the archway between the living room and kitchen, lighting up a second cigarette before seeing you there standing. He gives you a quick nod, and you can only nod back, and turn around to press your teeth on the brim of your solo cup until it rips.

Being here in this house, this room with all these people and music playing feels like a time capsule. It transports you back to that time. As much as you've grown out of your old self, you can help but feel that old awkwardness creeping in to undo all the work you’ve done to come out of your shell.

When you discard the cup, you go upstairs to find a bathroom since the one in the hallway was occupied. Once you're done in the bathroom, you come out to find Michael climbing up the same stairs before crossing paths with you.

“Hey, Zuzu.” His lips quirk up as you both stop in front of the other.

“Hey,” you say back.

“Thought you left.”

“No, I just went to the bathroom,” you use your thumb to point at the door, as he leans back on the wall behind him, crossing one foot over the other.

“So you know where the bathroom is?”

“Sorry?”

“Last time I saw you, you said you were going to the bathroom but never came back. Figure it was your version of the old dad excuse of – I went out for cigarettes. And then ran for the hills.”

He’s smiling, but his tone sounds passive-aggressive, and you can’t tell at all if he’s joking or not.

“Oh, you remember that, huh?” You choose to believe he’s kidding around.

“I haven’t thought about it in a while. Then I saw you here… I wasn’t going to say anything but I… I guess I’ve always wondered what happened.”

“Why? Did I hurt your ego?”

“No, my ego’s intact. But I got really worried when you didn’t come back. Thought maybe I made you feel uncomfortable or something… I just… You don’t owe me anything, but I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

With a long sigh, you prop your back on the opposite wall and collect your thoughts.

This is it. Your moment to explain if you want. You have nothing to lose. The fact that he remembers could mean that he liked you more than he led.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Michael. It was me… I uh… I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing. I had never hooked up with someone like that until you. I had some experience, but not that kind of experience if you know what I mean.”

You pause and he nods kindly at your confession.

“I guess I was afraid of going too far, or not going far enough, or disappointing you. I wanted to go back so badly, but I couldn't.”

“You could’ve told me that. You could've said– hey, maybe we should slow down… I’d have never pushed you to do anything that you didn’t want.”

“I didn’t know that. I’m not good at reading people. Guys especially. I wasn’t sure how you’re going to react, and I just bolted. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t apologize,” he waves you off. “I get it.”

“It was one of those moments that I wish I could go back and do things differently, you know? I've done a lot of things in my life that I regret, but that one was just embarrassing.”

“Don't beat yourself up, sweetheart. We were kids. There's nothing to be embarrassed about anymore. Sorry I asked… Didn't mean to make you feel bad or anything.”

“It's okay.” You pause and bite the inside of your cheek for a moment. “Can I ask you something now?”

“Shoot.”

“Did you even like me? Or was it like a one time kinda thing?”

He bashfully scratches the back of his head before answering.

“I asked you out, didn't I?”

“That's not really an answer, Berzatto.”

“Of course I liked you. I always thought you were kind and funny and easygoing. And yeah, for a moment I really saw us together. Is that a good enough answer for you?”

“That's perfect…” you sigh, glancing at the floor for a beat. “Talk about bad timing, huh?”

“Hey, we could have a do-over.” He suggests.

“Tell me you’re joking.” You scoff.

“Not if you want to. You said you wish you could go back… I’m down if you’re down.”

“That easy, huh?”

“Yeah, why not? I hate when people complicate things. I’m not seeing anyone, Claire said you aren’t either… It’s easy math for me.”

“And I thought I was the crazy one,” you chuckle.

“Is it crazy? Think about it. What are the odds of you and me running into each other over a decade later? It seems like fate to me.”

“Hm, fate looks a lot like Claire.”

“So what if she played a hand? She didn't know that I'd show up for sure. I almost didn't. If it wasn't for Paulie coming to cover Gary's shift, I'd be stuck at the shop right now.”

“Maybe you're right.”

“But?”

“No buts. I just… I'm not the same person you knew. Maybe I’m not as easygoing, kind and funny as I was.”

“I’ll be the judge of that but hey, I'm not the same person either. We could just hang out and see if we like those people. What do you say?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Yeah?” the corner of his mouth pulls up.

“Yeah, it just so happens I'm free today. I could come over later if you want.”

Since you're staying at Claire's and don't feel comfortable bringing anyone to her apartment, you agree to meet at his place an hour after the party.

Once you’ve exchanged numbers, you receive a text with his address.

You use that hour to go by Claire's place and pamper yourself a little. You're not really sure if it's a date or not but in any case you prepare yourself mentally and physically as if it was. You've older now, and have more confidence and experience than all those years ago. It doesn’t matter if you haven't been with a guy in a while, you can't pass up a chance at a once in a lifetime opportunity to rectify that awful night. Or at least replace it with a new memory. Hopefully.

Claire comes back just in time to see you doing your makeup.

“You going out?”

You nod as she leans on the bathroom’s door frame.

“Michael? Wow, you didn’t waste time. I left you alone for five minutes. See, I was right. You two would be perfect for each other.”

“Don’t ring the bells just yet. We're just hanging out.”

“Does he know about Sam?”

“No, I don't think so. Unless you or Carmen told him. I can’t keep track of what you guys tell others.”

“We didn't. It's your story to tell. But I'm just saying, you don't have to keep it a secret.”

“It's not a secret. It just didn't come up.”

“Well, you should give him a chance, he might surprise you.”

“I'll try.”

It's the last thing you say before heading out to meet Michael.

On the way there, you think carefully about what Claire said and decide to tell him upfront about Sam. It shouldn’t be a dealbreaker. You’re just hanging out. But because you know guys, and you’ve been burned in that department before, you ready yourself for any outcome.

Michael offers you a drink after closing the door to his apartment. You can tell he’s done the same as you. He’s showered, his hair is still damp, his face is clean-shaven now, and he’s wearing a different t-shirt now sans The Beef logo.

Opting for having a drink, he pours a tequila shot for you on the breakfast bar after giving you a short tour of his one-bedroom apartment while he sips from a mug filled with fresh coffee.

“I uh… I have to tell you something,” you start after downing your shot and sitting on one of the barstools.

“Oh.”

“I don’t do this often, you know? Going to a guy's place like this– I mean, I have. A couple of times. But this isn’t a frequent occurrence in my life. Or a priority.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn't. He stares at you instead, asking you to keep going with his curious gaze, as he leans his forearms on the counter.

“This shouldn’t affect you but for the sake of honesty, I thought you should know that I have a daughter.”

“Why would that affect me?”

“Like I said, it shouldn’t. But a lot of guys tend to get weird upon knowing that about me.”

“Well, that's on them. We agreed this was just to get to know each other, right? We can't do it if we pick and choose the parts we want to share.”

You nod firmly. “You're right.”

“Can I ask how old she is?”

“Yeah, she’s three. She called earlier, well, my mom did, and said she was having so much fun she wanted to stay the night.”

“That’s beautiful, Zu. Guess you have to take your chances whenever you can, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“And the father?”

“He’s not in the picture. He pays for the frame, but he’ll never be in it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“His loss.”

He props a hand on the edge of the bar, using the other to pick up the bottle and fill your empty shot glass.

“If we’re laying our cards on the table, I think it’s only fair to confess something too before moving forward.”

Now it’s your time to give him the same curious look he gave you before as he explains.

“I don’t do this often either. At least not as much as I used to. And I’ve never said out loud this to anyone that wasn’t in a room filled with people like me… Not even my family.”

You can see he’s struggling to find the words and courage to admit something, but you don’t push on it until he’s ready to say–

“I’m a recovering addict.” His voice is even, tinged with a dab of shame. But he looks you directly in the eye to gauge your reaction. “It’s been almost a year and just starting to feel back to normal. Or whatever that means. A couple of months ago I wouldn't have felt confident enough to invite anyone here. Hell, going to a party would’ve been unthinkable for me… But I’m still trying to figure it all out, you know? If that’s a dealbreaker for you…”

“It’s not. I wasn’t expecting that, but I’m glad you told me. I uh… I hope this question doesn’t come across as judgmental but is it safe for you to keep alcohol in the house?” you point to the tequila bottle.

“Alcohol isn’t my poison,” he scoffs. “But I don’t drink anymore either if I can help it.”

“You go to meetings?”

“Yeah, NA. Every week.”

“And your family doesn’t know?”

“They know some of it, but not how bad it got.”

“I feel out of my depth here but wouldn’t it be better to have someone close to talk to?”

He shrugs, “you know the Berzattos. We all have problems, we’ll rather pretend everything’s good than to admit we’re all batshit.”

“Sorry for prying.”

“No, it’s fine. I opened that door. Richie knows though. He’s seen the worst of it, has picked me up many times when I couldn’t even get up. He’s always been there, even when he doesn’t know what to say.”

“That’s good. And if it helps, I don’t think you’re crazy. It’s brave to admit that you have a problem, let alone face it on your own. Takes courage.”

“Guess a single mom would know a thing or two about courage.”

“I suppose so,” you gaze at your shot glass before tilting it over your lips.

“One more?”

“No, no. Two is enough for me. Thanks.”

You stare at the other, not sure how to proceed after that. Shit, maybe you went too deep too fast, but it’s good to have everything out in the open. If anything, it only makes him more attractive to see that he can look at his own flaws and own them. Most guys you’ve ever been with never had the balls to look you in the eye and confess something so fucked up and personal.

“Do you wanna keep talking or should we try…?” you trail off.

“Whatever you want sweetheart. I love talking to you.” He lifts his coffee mug up to his lips and takes a long sip.

“Is that a line?”

“No, it’s the truth.”

He grins, placing his mug down, and you just know it’s definitely a line by the way his lips curve up lopsided. Which you don’t hate. Though you like talking to him as well, you’d rather be doing something else than spend all night rehashing all your problems.

Standing up from your barstool, you go around the bar to face him closer. You lick your lips and tentatively cup his face before placing a small kiss on his coffee-tainted lips. His face heats up beneath your palms, and you watch his mouth curl on both sides before locking eyes with him. It’s not until you look at him up close that you can notice the difference in his beautiful browns from all those years ago. They were once eager, sparkly, and mischievous. There’s still some of that, and much more depth than you remember. There’s a lot of sadness too, and a new shade of tenderness you haven’t seen in anyone before.

“Do you think you can kiss me the way you did last time?” Your mouth draws a smile.

“I think I can do better.”

“Yeah? I’d like to see that.”

You both laugh for a beat before noticing his knuckles caressing your neck.

“Do you wanna go slow?” His fingers trail slowly up to your jaw as you nod a “yeah, slow is good.”

Fast would be okay too but you wanna taste this moment like you never got to.

As your hands slide down to hold his sides, his palms reach up to cradle your face. His head leans to the side at the same time his tongue juts out to wet his lips. His face dips, quickly shortening the distance to your mouth to capture the flavor of your kiss. It seems like a terrible combination to mix coffee and tequila, but it works. Having his tongue stirring both inside your mouth is purely delicious. You swirl with him, gently, taking your time to get used to a new flavored cocktail that probably already exists somewhere. But this one is special, cause it has you and him putting that extra ingredient.

He was right, you realize. He's grown to be a better kisser than in that old memory that's been torturing you for years. You have to keep your mind out of that night. This is a different time, different day, and two different people that have nothing to do with those old versions of themselves.

As the kiss grows tiredly eager, you both start panting for air between the sloppy movement of your lips locked together. He parts momentarily to guide you toward the couch. He sits down, pulling you down to straddle his lap.

His palms land on your hips while you take the reins again and seize his mouth at once, wanting to swallow every single drop of that magical drink called Michael Berzatto. Your fingers curl around his neck, capturing his taut muscles bulging out at the hot rush coursing through his veins. His hands become anxious, greedy for more of you. They slip under the hem of your shirt at the back to feel the warmth of your skin.

There's a thread of anticipation weaving inside your body, sending your hips to grind over his denim bulge, making him sigh with groan when you hit the right spot. You do it again, and again, until you feel him growing between two layers of annoying denim.

The dirty work of your mouth becomes too wild to tame. Even for you. You've managed to hold yourself in the past when you needed to, but this time you're not sure that you want to hold back.

Michael's fingers fumble under your shirt to open the clasp of your bra. After a coup of tries, you feel the tight elastic decompress from your skin as one of his hands travels to the front to feel your breasts.

“Is this okay?” he mumbles into the frenzy of your tongue.

“Hm, yeah, that’s fucking perfect.” Your breathing catches as his knuckles softly brush the underside of your boob.

He's rock hard by the time his paw extends fully to mold one of your boobs to the shape of his fingers. Your nipple shrinks into a hard pebble under his firm touch. He thoroughly massages your flesh before switching to the other side.

You pull away from his lips to glance down at his hand enjoying its time in the valley of your chest. He seems either quite taken with it, or perhaps he's afraid of moving forward without your approval.

You clear your throat before suggesting. “Do you think we should move this party to the bedroom?”

“Yeah, I'd like that.”

You peel yourself off him to stand up and then follow him into his room. Before doing anything else, you pull up your phone from your pocket and place it on the nightstand to make sure you can find it fast in case it rings.

Michael moods the lights to just one on the night table with a soft glow of yellow and watches you taking off your clothes for a beat before mirroring you.

It's surprising how your nerves don't even present a threat at this moment, but you're not going to question or overthink right now why you're so damn calm when you lay almost naked on his bed.

You leave your panties on and prop yourself on your elbows watching him like prey as he slips off his shirt and jeans. His chiseled body is something to admire. You can tell he's been working out. Maybe to smooth that edge the drugs gave him. He was already a pretty athletic guy back then but didn't have the same defined shapes that now sculpture his body like a Greek marble statue.

Biting your lip you glance further down to see him push down his boxers to uncover his generous erection. You can't help but admire your own work, swelled to a nice shade of deep pink and pointing up to his abdomen between the grooves of Apollo’s belt.

Your knees push together, feeling your arousal pooling in your folds when he turns around to show you his buttocks. With his back on sight, he collects something from a dresser drawer.

There's a condom in his hand when he faces you again.

“You good down there, sweetheart?” he asks, his eyes casting a dark shade from above, adding more gusto to the overly sexual charge blowing off the charts before even touching each other's naked bodies.

“Uh-hm. Could I just first…” Before he can wrap his dick in latex, you extend your hand to feel his full hardness in your palm. You wait for him to nod and give you permission to curl your fingers around it to feel it throb and ache for more friction.

It's as unexpected for you as it is for him to have you openly telling him what you want to do. If there’s something you've learned from all your past mistakes is that sex is better when you can communicate what you want. Even if it's just a one time thing, it's better to keep an open line between you two. As much as you’d want him to jump on top of you and rearrange your insides, the build up is more gratifying to you than just getting things done as fast as possible. The buzz lasts even longer. And if this is a one time thing, you sure want to remember every second of how being with him felt.

Michael puts one knee on the edge of the bed and observes your kind hand sliding down his shaft. His eyes become glossy. A gulp moves his throat up and down as he swallows a grunt when you tighten your hold around him and press down tighter, coaxing a nice wet drop to spill out of his tip.

Licking his lips, he puts his hand around your wrist to stop you before you go too far. He wants to come. But he wants to do it with you tightly wrapped around him.

He removes the wrapper of the prophylactic and rolls it on.

When she realizes you still have your underwear on, he slides them down your legs carefully, as if he was unwrapping the finest china. He notices the faint scar left on your lower abdomen from your c-section and as Michael climbs on top of you, he leaves a trail of kisses from that scar up to your neck.

As his head is closer, you hook a finger on the gold chain hanging around his neck, pulling his face down to seize his lips. At the same time, he parts your knees to nestle in between.

Adjusting your position, you lay back on the mattress with him following your cue and letting your tongue invite itself past his teeth to keep savoring everything he has to offer as your hips fit together. When his cock presses against your clit you can’t help but jolt and grind against its solid hardness. The thin layer of latex collects your dampness as you do. You grip his sides as he uses the advantage of being on top of you to kiss you back with a burning ache that sets your core in fire the longer you rub against the other.

“How does it feel, sweetheart?” His voice tenses in his throat. “You like it like that, huh.”

“Yeah, it feels so fucking good.” But you can’t bear that thought for longer than that. You need him inside pushing past your entrance, stretching your walls to the shape of his erection.

“Fuck me,” you moan before sucking his lip into your mouth.

His hand snakes down your torso to taste with his finger the arousal covering your sex.

“God you’re so wet, sweetheart,” he purrs, probing a finger before smoothly burying himself inside you.

Your eyes shine behind a layer of gloss that wells up at the corners as he pushes a couple of times carefully until you get used to his size molding the shape of your walls.

After a few experimental thrusts, he lowers his body on top of yours, letting his weight do all the work as he gradually moves faster.

“You’re gonna make me come,” he pants over your lips, feeling the tight grip of your pussy contracting every time his cock pushes deeper inside.

“That’s the idea,” you wink at him as your palms slide down his back to grab his ass.

You keep eye contact with him and stay quiet as the only sound that fills the room is your skin meeting over and over until your moans seep in. You watch his forehead and neck quickly get covered in sweat beads. He takes a deep breath before letting his grunts join the symphony. His forehead falls on top of yours, as the rhythm of his thrust picks up. His muscles strain under your palms that go back up to hold tightly to his sides the closer he drives you to the edge. Your nails dig on his ribs pushing him thrust his hips even sharper. You can feel him throb and jerk inside you as he exerts his body for your pleasure. It’s easy to tell he wants to come desperately, but he holds and holds his release for you until you reach that point.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” there’s an edge of urgency in his breathless voice as he tucks one hand underneath to rub your clit and get you to come faster.

“I… almost… fuck,” you try to word something out, but you’re so close you can only cling to his sides as your body aches for a release.

The tears collecting in your ears trickle down your cheeks when you close your eyes at that very crucial point when your orgasm reaches the highest peak. The powerful force makes your body shake like a damn earthquake, leaving your core in shambles. One of his hands holds your trembling thigh, feeling its vibrations on his palm until it passes. At that point, he cannot longer hold his own, and the squeeze of your opening around his pulsating erection just makes him spill everything into the condom. His teeth are clenched on your neck, printing a loud grunt on your skin as he comes undone. Your pussy still contracts around him up until the final drop is ejected.

That sweet orgasm slowly ebbs, but the buzz in your head lingers for longer than that. He lazily stays on top of you for a minute until he can finally push himself off you.

Painting together, you stare at the ceiling as the breeze slipping in from the open window cools your body.

“That was…”

“Yeah.” He scoffs, half glancing at you with a giddy smile.

You don't really need to give it a word. You both know how amazing that was. It’s safe to say that this is how it was supposed to be. If you had gotten your way the first time around, it probably wouldn't have been nearly as good. And now you don't have to wonder anymore or feel ashamed for leaving cause this night definitely overwrites that fiasco.

When your breathing evens out, you both turn to your side and face each other to bask in the afterglow plastered on your faces. One of his hands slips across your jaw, as his thumb caresses your cheek when you place your head on the pillow.

Your face heats up as he leans closer to place a tender kiss on your sweaty temple. As his hand slides down your warm body, he watches it draw the curves of your body as one of his fingers sticks out around your hips to draw the scar he saw before peaking just over your pubic hair. You let him do it for a second before you put a palm over it. Then, he slips his fingers between your legs to seize the mess he’s made out of you. Your juices still cling to your skin when his fingers start circling around your clit.

“Can I make you come again?”

“Please,” you let out a half laugh and push your knee higher to make room for his wandering fingers that explore all over your pussy. His eyes stay fixed on yours as he easily takes you to have a quick orgasm. It’s not as explosive, but it’s a nice aftershock that leaves your body melting into the mattress.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader x jack daniels

genre: smut, minors dni, dude ranch au, modern au

word count: 7.7k

summary: joel challenges jack to make you into the finest there possibly is in two days.

warnings: threesome (mfm), mlm dynamics, some jealousy, outdoor sex, piv, oral sex, dirty talking

a/n: happy birthday @fuckyeahdindjarin 🎉 I hope you enjoy you slutty cowboys--both of them nearly gave me a heart-attack while writing ❤️‍🔥 this gif was made my the lovely @pedrorascal who I am so grateful for helping me out preparing your this bday surprise!

**dividers by @saradika

You take a breath and sneak out of the cozy room. It had been hard parting away from your cozy bed. The warmth provided by the hand-knitted blanket and the scent of delicious wood made you want to never leave. They’ve really done a great job decorating the rooms of the dude ranch. It still holds the Western theme you love, but it's also adorned with rustic charm, from the weathered leather furniture to the handcrafted wooden accents, creating a welcoming atmosphere.

It had been a couple of days since your arrival. You were tired of... well, everything and desperately needed an out. You wish you could say that it happened like in the movies— a divine sign that made you come here, but no. There was no divine intervention, no mysterious flyer sticking to your face. You had to do an endless amount of research to find the perfect place, and when you were done, you picked the ranch that had the least foot traffic. You were running away from people. Choosing the most touristy one would defeat the purpose—you wanted to be alone.

And you were glad that you did. The place was amazing. Surrounded by large mountains and wide fields. This place wasn’t so people would come and see what was what. It was an actual ranch with actual people working all the time. Accepting guests was the side hustle and not the other way around. 

There were two cowboys that you constantly saw: Joel Miller and Jack Daniels. Both charming, both handsome enough to make you want to scream. Jack had been personally assigned to you, but Joel was always around, watching, observing, and, of course, running his mouth. You’ve grown accustomed to their odd friendship... rivalry? It was actually kind of cute to see Jack turn all red whenever Joel said something to undermine him. And the other seemed to know that well.

Two talented cowboys. And you, who had no idea what the hell you were doing. 

Which is why you were escaping your room like some kind of criminal at the brink of dawn. Joel’s teasing wasn’t only reserved for Jack, you got your fair share as well and it was even worse when Jack chimed in—the two seasoned horse riders letting you know just how out of your element you were. You needed to train without those two constantly spitting quips your way.

You silently make your way to the stables and blindly reach out towards Honeydust, the palomino Jack had gotten you accustomed to. You gently guide her away from the other horses. The rose-pink light of dawn has begun to trickle through the open windows, painting Honeydust’s coat in a gorgeous hue. You regret not bringing your phone; you would’ve loved to show Jack and Joel later on.

“Alright girl,” you mutter as you pat the side of her face. She whinnies slightly and digs her hoof into the ground. “It’s you and me. Let’s show them how it’s done.” 

As you reach for the saddle, you smile to yourself. You might not be that good at horse riding yet but you did learn some things—like the value of a good saddle. You take a moment to inhale the scent of it— a mix of leather, hay, and a hint of earthiness.

Honeydust stands patiently, seemingly aware of your fumbling attempts to secure the saddle. You take a deep breath, remembering the lessons Jack patiently gave you about saddling up. Slowly but surely, you manage to get everything in place. As you tighten the cinch, you feel a sense of accomplishment. A week ago, you hadn’t been able to do this. Maybe you're not a full-on cowboy, but you're determined to learn the ropes.

With the saddle secured, you grab the reins and lead Honeydust out of the stable, into the cool morning air. The sky is a canvas of pastel colors—blues, pinks, and golds blending together as the sun inches higher. It's a breathtaking sight. You pat Honeydust on the muzzle and press your cheek against her, watching the sky.

“Isn’t it beautiful,” you whisper to her. “Honestly I’m gonna hate going back. It’s been a couple of days and I’m already attached to this place.” 

Honeydust snorts and shakes her head. You smile wide as you pat her again, “You’re right. No room for sentimentality.” 

Mounting Honeydust, you settle into the saddle, adjusting to the feel of it beneath you. The quiet creak of leather is drowned out by the sounds of the waking ranch. Birds chirp in the distance, and you take a deep breath, your lungs filling with the fresh scent of the outdoors—

But then you’re slipping. 

And then falling. 

With a loud, sharp gasp, you find yourself unexpectedly upside down beneath Honeydust's belly. Panic sets in as you register the proximity of her powerful legs, your eyes widen, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. Honeydust remains still, your body still miraculously hanging to the saddle. 

Your heartbeat starts to slow, you take a deep breath. You’re fine. You’re okay. You just forgot to fasten one of the belts. 

“Need any help there, sweetheart?” 

Fuck. Busted. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, emphasizing the latter. Jean-clad legs come into view. “Just. . . trying a new riding style.” 

“Is that so?” Joel drawls, amusement dripping with every word. “And what would you call this one? The hangin’ fool?” 

“Rude.” 

His hips cock to the side and you see him placing both hands on his narrow hips, “Would it be better if I called it the hangin’ beauty?” 

“Yes actually, it would.” 

Your cheeks warm as he steps closer. You try not to stare, or perhaps that’s just you lying to yourself, but whatever your true intention was your eyes linger right over his crotch. Even with the thick jeans and the belt buckle, you know he’s packing underneath there. You can especially tell now since this is the closest you’ve ever been to it. Your mouth waters. Your brain delving further into sinful imagination when his low chuckle echoes in your ear. 

“A’right then beautiful, let’s get you out here.” he stops for a beat, his knuckles brushing down the outer part of your leg. You shudder, your legs tighten around Honeydust. “Unless you wanna show me this new ridin’ style of yours?” 

“You know what, I think I’ll take a rain check on that.” your voice is shrill and pitchy. Your eyes start to throb. “Especially since all the blood in my body is currently in my head.” 

“Oh shit—Okay, just gimme a sec.” he slides his hands under your armpits. “A’right now let go.” 

“What?” 

“Just let go, sweetheart. I got you. You’ll be okay, promise.” 

With a sharp breath, you close your eyes and loosen your legs. Joel's arms wrap further beneath yours, drawing you closer. You feel the tightening of his biceps, feel the huff of his breath against your cheek. He takes a step back and suddenly unbalanced, he falls backward, pulling you along.

With a huff, Joel lands on his ass, and you find yourself comfortably nestled against his chest. It takes you only a second for your gaze to find his. You hold your breath and so does he. His hand pleasantly curls around your waist, keeping you from moving away. His chest is firm under your own, your nipples tightening when you shift a bit, the graze of fabric makes you shudder. 

His other hand comes to brush a strand of loose hair behind your ear. You swallow not once but twice. The warmth of Joel’s palm cradles your cheek and a slow breath exits your lungs. 

“You a’right?” 

“Y—Yeah. . . thanks for helping me out.” 

“My pleasure.” His voice is deep, hoarse even, and it scratches your ears just right. You find yourself drawn to him. Your eyes dropping to his lips and back up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. His lips part. The divot in the middle of his bottom lip more prominent than ever. You lean in without a thought, he mimics you, coming in closer and closer. Your chest heaves. Your heart beating madly against your chest. 

“What the hell are you two doin’ canoodling here?” 

You jerk away, your eyes lingering on Joel long enough to see the disappointment in his gaze. His eyes close slowly and he takes a ragged breath. Shifting slightly you see Jack holding a hay bale. His eyes are narrowed, his brows knitted together as his gaze flits between you and Joel. You chew the inside of your cheek, embarrassment heating you from the inside out. 

“We ain’t canoodlin’,” Joel answers, agitated. “I found her hanging upside down under Honeydust’s belly. Who’s fault do you think is that?” 

Jack’s mouth opens and closes, his cheeks suddenly flushed. His gloved hands tighten around the hay as he pushes it up his arms. Then finally, with a softened gaze, he turns to you. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you reply, your heart currently beating in your throat. “I just forgot to fasten the other side of the saddle.” 

Joel squeezes your waist and you’re suddenly hyper-aware that you’re basically on his lap still. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You have a shit teacher.” 

“Excuse me?” Jack’s tone is enough to have you scrambling off of Joel’s lap. If looks could kill, Joel would be dead right now. On your feet, you move towards Honeydust, and with great comfort, she nuzzles your chest. Joel smiles lazily when Jack drops the bale of hay and walks up to him. “You better take that back, old man.” 

“Yeah?” his eyes glow with mirth. “Make me.” 

Involuntarily you cover your mouth with a hand. Is it bad that you’re secretly enjoying this? The amount of testosterone in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife. 

Joel slowly gets up, as if he has all the time in the world, and faces Jack. He’s slightly taller than the latter, smile still tugging at his lips as he tilts his head ever so slightly down. Jack’s nostrils flare. 

“You want me to knock you out in front of our guest?” 

“I’d love to see you try.” 

Joel takes another step closer, his chest nearly flushed against the other, he jerks his head to the side and places his hands on his hips. You swear you see Jack’s skin darkening with a deep shade of red from his chest to his neck. His jaw is wired tight, the muscle there twitching. 

“How about this,” Joel grins. “You manage to make our sweet girl here a full-on cowgirl in two days and I’ll eat my words right outta your hand, Whiskey.” 

Jack huffs and clicks his tongue, “Don’t call me that.” 

“It’s your name isn’t it?” 

“It ain’t and you know it.” 

“Your parents shouldn’t have named you Jack Daniels,” Joel rolls his eyes, “Do we have a deal or not?” 

You hold your breath when Joel extends a hand. Jack’s eyes briefly find yours, his fingers twitching. The morning chill is still in the air and despite it, beads of sweat appear on your skin. Two days. Two days and you still don’t know how to put on a saddle right. With a small shake, you attempt to warn Jack but that only makes him smile. 

He turns to Joel, “Deal,” he answers, taking his hand. “Two days. Be ready to eat your words, old man.” 

They shake on it and as they do Joel gives you a not so subtle wink. It reminds you of just how close the two of you were a mere couple of minutes ago. You avert your gaze, suddenly shy to face him, and think about what might’ve happened if Jack hadn’t interrupted. 

When Joel leaves, Jack lets out a long sigh and turns to you. 

“You slipped, darlin’, really?” 

“In my defense, it was early.” 

“Fuckin’ hell.” He shakes his head but you see the way his lips curl upwards ever so slightly. “Anyway, wait for me here and I’ll be right back. We gotta get you into tip-top shape because I ain’t gonna lose to Joel.” 

“I warned you, you know,” you softly kick the dirt with the tip of your boot. 

Jack’s tongue moves over his bottom lip, a shudder crawls up your spine and heat pools between your legs. He grips the bale of hay and throws it over his shoulder. 

“That’s why I accepted the challenge, sugar. No guest of mine is gonna leave here without feelin’ like they can conquer the world.” 

“Jack this is impossible I’m never going to get the hang of this.” 

“With that attitude you sure ain’t gonna.” 

With a crooked smile, Jack watches as you draw your shoulders together and stomp your boot against the soil. The lasso is tight between your fingers, the tips of which are chafed from turning the lasso again and again in an attempt to loop the rope around one of the wooden posts. He tilts his head to the side when you turn to him, a pleading expression etched onto your beautiful face.

"This is never going to happen," you huff. However, instead of keeping his eyes locked on yours, his gaze drops to where your flannel hugs your breasts, the poor buttons struggling to keep it all together. His cock swells at the thought of licking them, sucking on your hard nipples while the sweetest noises flee from your lips. "Jack?"

He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s been staring at your gorgeous tits, he drags his gaze back slowly, his smile only growing upon seeing your parted lips and glazed eyes. “Yeah, sugar?” 

“We’re never going to win this thing with Joel,” you say and he doesn’t fail to notice how breathless you suddenly are. “How am I supposed to learn to do everything a cowboy can in two days? Seems a bit unfair.” 

“Not everythin’,” he struts towards you and peels the lasso from your fingers. “We just need to cover the basics. No one is expectin’ you to catch a knife in mid-air with a lasso.” 

Your brows furrow, “What? You’re saying you can actually do that?” 

“‘Course I can,” he chirps back. “Unlike you, I’m a top-notch cowboy.” 

His heart breaks a little when he sees how defeated you look, with a small nudge to your shoulder, he draws your gaze back to him. “Want me to show you again darlin’?” 

“Sure but I’m not sure it’ll do me any good. I’m horrible at this.” 

With a reassuring grin, Jack steps back, unwinding the lasso he took from you. He takes a moment to adjust the coils and then demonstrates the art of lassoing, the rope flying through the air in a graceful arc before landing perfectly around a wooden post.

“You see, it's all in the wrist,” he explains as he smoothly tightens the loop, making it look deceptively easy. He repeats the motion a couple of times, each throw precise and controlled.

“You know who’s really good at this?” he asks, returning his attention to you. “Joel.”

You snort, “I feel like that man is good at everything. But I’m not sure why you’re telling me that.”

“Well, you know who used to suck at it—me.”

“You?” you raise a sole eyebrow, and a teasing smile touches your lips. “You who can catch a knife in the air, supposedly, that is.”

“It takes a lot of practice, sugar. That's what I’m tryin’ to tell ya. I sucked at it. Couldn’t even do one loop. Then the old timer helped me out.”

“Joel?”

Yup," he says, noticing your shock. He had been shocked too when the man had shown him how to properly do it. It was both amazing and terrifying. Jack had never had someone care about him enough to actually show him how it's done instead of letting him struggle on his own. "And eventually, I got the hang of it. So will you.”

You smile wholeheartedly and take the lasso from him, “Thanks, Jack. I. . . I appreciate it. You actually really respect him, don’t you? Despite all the banter and arguing.” 

“That’s just how I show love, darlin’.” 

“You never argue with me.” 

His eyebrows tilt up, along with the corner of his lips. You avert your eyes as you loosely hold the rope in your hand, the exercise quickly forgotten. Jack closes the distance until there's only a breath of space between you two. He entertains the idea of lifting your head by the chin, forcing your gaze upon him, but he refrains. He wants you to listen to him and oblige.

“Look at me, darlin’,” His eyes shine with delight when you do, he leans closer. “You want me to fight you?” 

Your brows furrow, your lips forming the most adorable pout, “No. Of course not.” 

“You sure?” This time he does cup your cheek to keep your gaze fixed on him. His pinkies move towards your neck, drawing soft patterns up and down your skin. You visibly shudder, a soft breath escaping your lips. “I see how you watch when Joel and I start to bitch and moan at each other, sugar. You sure you’re not into it even a little?” 

He knows your answer. But he allows you to giggle and escape his hold anyway. “You’re ridiculous,” you say and as a response Jack wants to touch on the fact that you can’t look at him anymore, however, he’ll allow you to escape him for now. 

“Come on then, now that you got your giggles on, let’s see you at least pull in one of those cones.” 

While you attempt to just do that, Jack ends up regretting teasing you because he ends up thinking about Joel instead. It’s hard to admit that the constant bickering is the obvious telltale sign of something more. And he knows there’s something. Joel only weaponizes his tongue when you’re around. Or someone else for that matter. But when it’s just the two of them it’s different. It’s lingering touches and heavy scotch-filled conversations. Sometimes Joel would even whisper so he wouldn’t wake the others. Jack shivers as he remembers how Joel’s lips felt against the shell of his ear. Downright sinful. 

It always remained at that, however. Touches and looks and talks. Nothing more and nothing less. 

“Jack,” you say, your voice drawing him away from thoughts he’s happy to be drawn away from. “How did you end up here? Like with Joel and the rest.” 

“It’s not much of a story. I was lookin’ for a job and came here lookin’ for one.” He lifts his hat and combs his hair back with his fingers. “I actually met Tommy first. Joel doesn’t like the hiring process and says his younger brother is a better judge of character. I met him after I was hired. Then I met the little munchkins.” 

“You mean Sarah and Ellie?” 

“Yes ma’am I do,” he reaches forward, letting his fingers nearly brush yours. He chuckles, "I also know what you're doing, so stop stalling and throw the damn lasso already."

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and all Jack wants to do is pry it away from the sharp edges, "Oh, are we arguing? Should I add this moment to my journal?” you manage to lock your gaze with his, a grin spreading across your face. “Does this mean you love me?" 

He takes a step closer, leaning ever so slightly into your personal space. A hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, he breathes, "How 'bout this? You throw that rope, and I'll kiss you, sweetheart. Then you’ll really know what I feel."

Your eyes widen, "You’ll... excuse me?"

A wicked glint in his eyes, he quips, "I'll kiss you, full-blown on the lips. And believe me, it'll be my pleasure to lay one on you."

"Just throw the rope? Aren't you selling a bit short?"

Jack takes another step towards you and you can feel the heat radiating from him. His voice low and husky, he counters, "Fine then, manage to actually lasso something, and then I'll kiss you."

"You're mean. You said you'd only do it if I threw it." You challenge him by taking a step closer and he’s delighted to see it. 

Cupping her face in his hands, he grins, "Changed my mind. And you have yourself to blame for it."

With all his heart Jack wishes for you to make the throw. Something primal and ugly in him finds extreme joy in being the one to kiss you first. He hated to admit it, but his heart broke a little when he found you and Joel together, lips almost about to touch. He hated feeling like an outsider. Especially when it came from Joel.

With a determined glint in your eyes, you take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Gripping the lasso in your hands, you start to swing it in a circular motion above your head. It’s sloppy and uneven but he can see how much care you’ve put into your stance. Jack watches intently, noting the way you shift your weight from one food to another, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

As the lasso gains momentum, you release it at just the right moment. It sails through the air, forming a perfect loop. Jack's eyes follow its trajectory, silently urging it to find its mark. The loop descends gracefully, and, with a satisfying thud, it settles around a nearby plastic cone and you pull it towards yourself, the plastic moving with ease. 

A triumphant grin breaks across your face as you complete the throw. “I did it,” you gasp in a low tone, panting. Your head suddenly snaps towards him, a shit-eating grin plastered over your perfect lips. “I DID IT!”  

Jack only smiles as he leans in and cradles your face in a rush. He crashes into you, lips meeting yours in an eager, lingering kiss. He teases the seam of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. Just a brief preview of how badly he wants this to happen. His hands slip to your ass, kneading the plump flesh, his cock stiffens at how you moan into his mouth. You press against him and Jack can’t help but roll his hips to feel more of you. It’s been so long. Too long since he felt something warm and tight around his cock. 

He parts away by dragging his lips down to your chin and from there to your neck. He nips at your pulse, feeling it beating against his mouth. 

“Jack,” you breathe. “I—Wow—” 

“Kissin’ is one thing I’m better at,” he chuckles deeply into your ear. “Among other things.” 

He holds you by the neck and gently pulls away. He can’t get enough of the expression you’re giving him; pupils blown and lips slightly parted. Your chest heaves heavily, your pulse beating wildly under his palm. Jack brushes your lips together, smiling upon hearing you whimper. 

“Now, throw that lasso again and I’ll give you another kiss.” 

And it all comes down to horse riding. You should be surprised but you’re not. 

The sun was finally setting over the ranch. A subtle chill settling at the base of your snake as the sun went down. It had been a tiring day full of lasso throwing, ax throwing, and knotting. Your back ached and when the final challenge finally befell you all you wanted to do was go back to your room and sleep. The only thing that gave you an ounce of energy was Jack’s proud smile after every challenge that was won. Joel seemed genuinely impressed. And you were genuinely surprised to find yourself acing every task. Seeing how smug Jack got made your heart flutter and stomach draw tight. 

The two of you had done a lot of kissing that day. It hadn’t gone any further but deep down you really wanted it to. 

You feel a deep sense of Deja Vu when you find yourself staring at Honeydust with a saddle in hand. You take a deep breath, fingers tightening around the leather. The open air gives you a sense of calm, the cloudy sky a pleasure to gaze upon.

Jack touches the small of your back, goosebumps rising across your skin at the gentle touch, “You got this darlin’ don’t worry so much.” 

You briefly glance at the track Joel and Jack had set up for you. Wooden fences stand tall at various intervals, creating a series of jumps that make you sweat just by thinking about them. Your eyes linger on the strategically placed cones that form a zigzag pattern. 

“Honestly no matter what happens I’m impressed,” Joel cuts in, cupping Honeydust’s cheek. Your gaze moves deftly from the track to the man standing before you. As always, he looks amazing in his red and yellow flannel. “You’ve done well sweetheart.” 

“Maybe you should just forfeit and accept we won then,” you answer, smiling. Joel shakes his head. 

“Someone is sure of herself.” 

“Hell yeah, I am.” 

“Look at that,” Jack pipes. “Soundin’ like a true cowboy already.” 

You expertly secure the saddle onto Honeydust's back. The leather feels cool beneath your fingertips as you tighten the straps, ensuring a snug fit. Adjusting the stirrups, you make sure they're the perfect length for your legs. As you stand beside the horse, you can feel the intensity of Joel and Jack's gazes on you. Their eyes trace the curves of your movements, a subtle tension lingering in the air.

With everything in place, you take a deliberate breath and swing yourself onto the saddle. The leather creaks slightly under your weight as you settle into position. Honeydust shifts beneath you. You catch Joel's gaze, and a sly smirk plays on his lips. His eyes linger a moment longer than necessary, you let out a puff of air, your legs tighten around Honeydust..

"Remember, just go with the flow. You and Honeydust are a team," Jack advises and with that, you head off. 

Gently nudging your heels against the horse's side, you urge Honeydust into a graceful gallop around the track. The steadying thud of her hooves pounding against the dirt creates a harmony that molds with the song of the wind, transporting you to a place of serenity. Each hurdle makes your heart jump with excitement. The jumps seem impossible at times. As you zigzag through the cones, you can feel Honeydust's muscles tense and relax under your hands, transitioning from one step to the next with the gracefulness of a dance—

A sudden jolt disrupts the rhythm, and you find yourself tumbling to the ground. You let out a deep groan as your back hits the earth and with the corner of your eye, you see Joel taking hold of Honeydust’s reins, calming the poor palomino. Jack’s face comes into vision a second later. 

"You okay, darlin'?" When you nod and begin to get up, his worry turns to frustration as he glances at Joel. "This was supposed to be about teaching, not pushing her to the damn limit."

"I didn't mean for her to fall, Jack. So don’t act like that was my intention."

“No, your intention was to make me look like I don’t know what I’m doin’.” 

Jack, eyes still glued on Joel, helps you up. Your head is still spinning a little from the adrenaline rush but other than that you feel fine. Your eyes flitting between both men, your stomach twists and turns at how they’re both glaring at each other. This time is different from the arguments. This time they both genuinely look like they’re about to explode. Joel has his jaw tight while Jack has both hands in tight fists. “Guys. . .” 

"Why you gotta make everythin’ personal?" Joel snaps, ignoring you all together. “It was just meant to be a harmless bet.” 

Jack's eyes narrow, he tears his hand away from yours and your heart drops, "You're the one who makes it damn personal by goadin’ me all the damn time."

“That’s. . .” Joel’s eyes grow soft, his demeanor changing entirely. You watch the furrow between his brows relax, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. “I’m—” 

“Can it,” Jack hisses through gritted teeth and raises a hand. “I don’t want your apology, I just wanna go. Unless you think I’m gonna be bad at that too.” 

You reach out, head still spinning, your fingers graze the back of his jacket and he slips from between your grasp. You part your lips to call out to him. To tell him to come back. But Joel takes a hold of your hand and lowers it with the shake of his head. 

“I know where he’s goin’. Let’s go.” 

“Are you telling me he has a brooding spot?” 

“He does.”

The sun had set. The crickets now singing under the starry night, but Joel can't focus on any of it. He can’t because he might’ve actually screwed everything up for good this time— which would be typical of him.  

After months of contemplating whether he should take the next step or not, he’d finally made Jack snap. That had never been Joel’s intention, obviously. But he wasn’t the best at flirting. Never had been. And when Jack came into his life, all fresh faced and a lashing tongue, he couldn’t help but fall for him a little. 

You’re walking just a little bit behind him, trying to keep up. He can feel you staring at him. Your eyes curious like a newborn gazelle’s. 

“If you stare any harder I’m gonna start blushin’ sweetheart.” 

“I’m. . . I wasn’t. . .” 

“Sure you were,” he sighs. “It wasn’t my intention to be hard on him you know. It just. . . sorta happens. I care a lot about him and I just want him to. . . “ He clamps his mouth shut. What was he supposed to say? How he was hoping that all the teasing would finally push Jack into his arms? How he wanted to do more than touch Jack when he knew no one else could see. 

“You want him to. . .  what exactly?” 

“I don’t know,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s complicated between us.” 

“You both have a crush on each other and don’t know what to do about it. It’s not that complicated.”

Joel’s mouth opens and closes— then opens again. “And how the hell do you know that?” 

“Because he talks about you a lot,” you answer with a soft smile. “He said he cares about you. And about your opinion.” Joel’s eyes narrow as you rub the back of your head, your eyes dropping to where you would be taking your next step. “I just don't know where I fit in all of this.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You and I almost kissed,” you say finger moving between you two. “Jack and I actually kissed. And well. . . I don’t want to get in the middle of anything. It might be a bit sudden but I like you guys, I care about you, and want you guys to be together if that’s what you want.” 

“It’s not your job to worry about us.” Joel huffs, his guilt gnawing at him. “But I get what you mean. We. . . we didn’t intend to put you in that position. I can assure you this wasn’t some twisted game we were tryin' to play. I can't talk for Jack but I care about you. And I care about him if that makes sense. But I fear that me being emotionally constipated might’ve ruined it with him. He gets mad every time I open my mouth.” 

“That’s because you tease him all the time and honestly he’s not doing any better than you.” Joel’s eyes go wide when you suddenly cradle his cheeks and bring his face towards your own. “And you haven't ruined anything Mr. Miller. You just need to tell him exactly what you’ve been telling me.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.” 

Before he can reach he feels the soft touch of your lips. You kiss him slowly—tenderly. Joel follows your lead, parting his lips, he allows you to slip your tongue inside. He sucks on your tongue, enjoying the way your body presses against his. 

When you pull back, you’re completely dazed.

“Now what was that for?” he asks.

“To keep everything even” you answer, smiling. “Now let's go get our brooding cowboy.” 

It doesn’t take long for that to happen. They find Jack sitting on the ground, his back pressed snugly against the wooden fence. He’s staring at the stars. The gentle light streaming down his face and down his neck, Joel’s heart skips a beat at the sight and he feels as though he can’t breathe. 

Only when they walk closer does he notice the bottle of whiskey. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a swig, Joel’s eyes follow the way drops of amber trickle down his sun-kissed skin. 

All Joel wants to do is lick the bitter drop off of him. 

The two stop before him. Neither of you knowing what to do or what to say. Joel attempts to apologize by parting his lips and that is the exact moment where Jack finally meets his gaze. 

“I know,” he says curtly. “Sit.” Jack extends the bottle of whiskey. Joel, without a word, sits down and takes the bottle. Just as he’s taking a swig, he notices you’re about to leave.  Thankfully Jack stops that from coming to fruition. “And where do you think you’re goin’? Sit your ass over here.” 

Joel almost cackles at how shocked you look. With the tiniest yelp escaping your lips you sit down right next to Jack. Taking a mouthful of whiskey, Joel extends you the bottle. You take it and chug it down immediately—Jack snorts and finally Joel feels comfortable enough to laugh alongside him. 

“Calm down darlin’, it ain’t runnin’ away.” 

“Sorry,” you hiccup, shoving the bottle into Jack’s chest. “I’m nervous.” 

“Well, don’t be,” Jack sighs and his head falls back against the fence. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I—” 

“We know,” Joel says with a fond smile. He throws his arm over Jack’s shoulder and cups the back of his head, his hat tumbling to the ground—it was now or never. 

For the first time, Joel brings their faces together without the tease of what he might or might not do. He kisses Jack tenderly, softly. Just like how he wanted to treat him during all those nights they were alone together. Jack digs his fingers into Joel’s shirt, nails nearly biting into the skin. Much to Joel’s surprise, the other man tastes sweet. Their tongues move together, still unsure but eager to explore. 

When Joel opens his eyes ever so slightly, he sees you staring in awe. 

He nearly breaks away laughing. But also, he can’t really blame you for your expression. 

It really does feel magical. 

You hold your breath. Every nerve ending you have is buzzing with want and arousal. The space between your legs pulsing as you watch Joel tilting his head, slipping his tongue through Jack’s eager lips. Deep down you feel like you’re intruding. That this is a tender moment that should just be between the two men but you can’t help but stay there, like a deer in headlights, watching.  

You shudder at the sound of Jack moaning, his hands grip Joel’s shoulder and host himself up the older man’s lap. He grinds down, swallowing Joel’s gasps, he parts away, a trail of saliva connecting the two. You’re still holding your breath. The tips of your fingers numb, your brain a whirlwind as it registers the sight before you. 

“Stupid old man,” Jack rasps, tilting his head to the side. “Gettin’ all sappy.” Then his heavy gaze finds your struck ones. He reaches out and in a dream-like state you take his hand, his fingers hastily close around your wrist and tugs you towards him. Your gasp is caught in your throat when he kisses you. The taste of Joel and whiskey still heavy on his tongue. 

A hand that doesn’t belong to Jack trails up the curve of your ass and squeezes. A choked-out moan drops from your lips only for Jack to shove his tongue between them. He sucks on your tongue and nips at your bottom lip all the while rolling his hips over Joel’s lap. 

“God, look at you two,” Joel groans, giving your ass another firm squeeze before moving his attention to Jack’s spread thighs. “I want to watch you eat that pretty pussy up, Jack. Bet you want that too. . .” 

Joel palms Jack’s cock through the denim, stroking him with a smug smile. Jack parts away from your lips with a whimper. His chest heaves. “Yeah,” he gasps, staring into your eyes, and his hips jerk, chasing the heat of the other’s palm. “Want you to make a mess of me, sugar.”

“Please,” you answer albeit not really needed. Your body falls back to sit on your heels, Joel crashes his lips against the younger cowboy’s, drinking the noises in like a starved man. He rips his flannel open while straightening himself, the momentum of the movement forcing Jack to grip Joel’s shoulders. He slides off of Joel’s lap, the kiss breaking when he directs his full lust-addled attention to you. 

His gaze is enough for you to start struggling with the buttons of your jeans. You kick them off in a rush and before you can take off your shirt Jack is already laying you down upon the soil, the stars above blinking down at you with mischief. Joel sitting close, pulls your head so you’re nestled comfortably above his lap. His hands cradle your face, thumbs stroking your skin gently. It’s a complete contrast compared to how Jack is. He slides your panties to the side, the pad of his thumb resting right above your clit, he stares at your from between your spread-out thighs. 

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he mutters right before delving in. He drags his tongue slowly up your folds while tenderly stroking your clit. Your back arches off of the earth, your eyes fluttering closed as he goes back down, only to kiss you tenderly. He takes his time with you. His jaw moving and tongue teasing your fluttering entrance. Your breath catches in your throat, your chest rattling, Joel shushes you while praising Jack at the same time. 

When your eyes finally open, you find Joel looking down at you. His thumb traces the underline of your bottom lip and moves down until he reaches the hem of your flannel. Flattening his thumb over your stomach, he pushes the fabric up until he exposes you to the sky completely. He cups both your breasts and smooths his fingers over your tingling nipples. 

“So hard already. . . you must really like what he’s doin’ down there huh?” 

Tears stinging the corner of your eyes, you nod. Your silent reply is answered with a sharp bite to the inside of your thigh. Your body jolts, a gasp of pain rattling your throat. Joel smiles. “I think he wants to hear you, sweetheart.”

“I love it,” you moan and as a reward, he pinches your nipples. 

“Good girl.” 

Jack presses his tongue deeper, your body clenching at both the words and the movement. He groans into your cunt, the bridge of his nose brushing your aching clit deliciously as he swirls his tongue. Your stomach coils tight and you push more of yourself into Joel’s palms, your mouth drops wide. You want more. You need more. You want them both to take and take and take—take until you forget your own damn name. 

“Joel. . .” you breathe. He looks down at you curiously. “I want to suck your cock.” 

Jack stops only for a moment before his eyes flutter closed and loses himself in you. Vaguely you can see the way he grinds down, a groan reverberating between your legs. Joel sucks in a breath and exhales from his nose. “You sure?” 

Your answer is ready on your tongue, and as soon as you give it to him, he expertly unbuttons himself. The tip of his cock pushes against your lips and your breath hitches. Precome smears over the soft flesh, your tongue darting out for a taste, you end up tasting from the source instead. Joel’s hips stutter. 

“Holy fuckin’ hell,” his hips jerk a second time, this time thrusting himself deeper into your mouth. You feel him leaning over, a second later you understand he’s reaching for the other man who is working you toward your orgasm. “Jack com’ere—Let me taste her.” 

Jack doesn’t make Joel repeat himself and unwillingly pulls himself away from between your legs. Your tongue swirls around Joel’s cock as Jack kisses him deeply. He licks himself deep into the older man’s mouth, stealing a moan deep within Joel’s chest. While Jack steals the breath from Joel’s lungs, he pushes two fingers into you with ease. Your eyes rolling, you take more of Joel into your mouth, prompting the other to instinctively thrust deep enough to make you choke around him. 

He parts from Jack with a gasp, “Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart, choke on it.” he says through gritted teeth. Both men look down at you with dark eyes, the shadows caused by the moonlight caress their backs, deepening every crease of their faces. You shudder. 

You’re surprised to see Jack dipping down, lower from where you’re sucking Joel’s cock, he sucks the tender skin of the base, and the sound that Joel makes almost feels inhumane. 

But Jack doesn’t linger. He pulls away from both of you, his torso tall between your legs, he strokes himself at the sight of your mouth full of the man he admires. 

“You like having your mouth full, darlin’? Such a dirty girl allowing two men to have you like this out in the open.” 

You whimper and nod, eyes flooding with tears as Joel shoves himself deeper. Spit and precome trickle down from where his cock stretches your lips. 

“Fuckin’ filthy,” Jack says giving himself a firm squeeze before swiping his palm over the head of his cock. With his other hand, he follows the contour of your leg, reaches all the way to your hip. “You’re ‘bout to feel much fuller.” 

He shoves himself inside you with a single thrust; your channel tightens around him, a moan escaping your throat. Your mouth is pulled away from Joel briefly, gasping for air, before he pulls you back. He adjusts his hips and slides back into your mouth, kneading the back of your neck.

“You feel that? How hot and wet you are? Both of us stretching you?” Jack's voice is gruff as he thrusts into you; your eyes close as pleasure radiates through your body, your skin left tingling. You can hear Joel moan and pant in the background, his cock throbs above your tongue and you hollow out your cheeks.

Your eyes flutter as Jack's cock glides in and out of you; his plunges getting deeper with every thrust. You feel overwhelmed by both of them. You’re left breathless and spinning. You feel only them and nothing else. 

You grip onto Joel to keep yourself teetered to the moment as Jack's movements become more desperate, Joel matching him thrust for thrust. With each gasp, Joel's cock slides further down your throat. 

The tightness inside your body grows; waves of pleasure cascade through you. The pressure builds and builds and builds—You’re so close you can taste it. Jack presses a palm over your mound, adding pressure as he draws quick and tight circles around your clit. Your throat convulses around Joel’s cock and he pulls out, his length resting comfortably above your lips. You breathe heavily against him, his cock slick and warm on your skin. 

“Atta girl,” he coos. “Just a bit more. . . Show us how pretty you look when you come.” 

You feel the pressure between your legs mounting with each hard thrust from Jack, your moans becoming louder and more desperate. Joel encourages Jack to go faster, and with each plunge you feel the tension in your core build higher and higher. 

And finally the coil snaps. 

Your whole body trembles and shakes. Your orgasm still rolling over your body like a violent wave. Jack pumps his hips into yours as he digs his hands into your hips. He keeps thrusting relentlessly, pushing himself as far in as he can before he pulls out. His jaw goes slack, cock gliding over your mound, he spills over your skin. You shudder at the trickle of his seed. 

Joel’s cock slides across your lips, teasing you. Your tongue darts out and quickly wraps around him, you tilt your head to take in all of his length. You push your mouth onto him, bobbing your head up and down until he groans. His hips buck erratically and at the same time you feel the touch of Jack’s mouth against the side of your neck. 

You swallow everything that he offers you, savoring every moment of the taste of him. You stay close to him until his breathing returns to normal, his thighs shaking underneath you as he pulls out. 

“Holy shit,” Jack chokes out as he collapses on top of you, head right above your chest. Joel wipes the sole tear that had escaped you eye and smiles. You bring his palm to your lips and kiss the rough skin. 

“It’s going to be hard walking away from all of this,” you whisper, shuddering when Jack’s mouth moves against the side of your breasts. 

“Who says you have to walk away?” 

You don’t have it in you to go into the details of your life and how you have to go. Or entertain the idea that maybe the things that you thought were important aren’t as essential that you thought after all. It’s pure chaos and right now all you want is to feel their warmth against your bare skin under the stars. 

For now, you are content and feeling grateful for the two amazing men who coincidentally made themselves an inseparable part of your life.  

[missdaytonawrites]

so it goes... • a. anderson

summary - dominance & dumbification HC's abby treats her partner like a dumb baby!

WC - 711

cw/tw - 18+ MDNI, total dumbification/brain breaking, dominant!abby, submissive!reader. a lil' smutty nearing the end. afab!reader, talk of strap-ons, talk of food and eating. abby is very low-key pervy in this i love.

A/N - as abbys favorite dummy, i felt like i had a duty to fufill with this one. oopsie daisies! dont have much to say except: dont ask about the phantom fic, or why i have seemed to find a home on the abby train. just *shoves this at you* take this! read this!

you did a number on me, but honestly, baby.. whos counting?

• she knew just how smart, hard-working and headstrong you were ever since you shook her hand the day you two met. it made her wanna help, wanna take it all away, she wanted to be your peace.

• abby knows that in order to get you to fully surrender, she's gonna have to work. so she did, it took a bit of conditioning but in no time you were more than willing to just accept her control.

• little things like: getting up before you so she's so she can wake you up. pulling your panties up for you, brushing and washing your hair for you, patting your back when you accomplish something, calling you “kid” (raaaaaahshshshdhshdirnfhfm)

• she has a bulletin board hung in her at-home office.. littered with coloring sheets, love notes, original works and more from you. she cherishes it all. and loves the reminders of how little you do bc she does it all for you

• she DEF puts your shoes on/ties your laces for you.

• constantly running your baths for you, making them nice, lighting candles etc. most likely isn’t going to get in with you, she wants to sit out and monitor so you don't get hurt. when you need to get the shampoo out of your hair? she gets closer to the edge of the tub, nestles her hand on the nape of your neck, and holds you while she lays you back into the water. so you dont drown ofc. bc ur TOTALLY gonna drown in the bath lmao

• cooks for you, and maybe even feeds you when she's feeling like it.

• puts you down for naps in the afternoon, you have a little sleeping nook in her office so she can still keep an eye on you.

• teaches you to kneel at her feet when she comes home from work!!!! she tells you to lay your head in her lap and let her read!!!!

• abby is 100% buying you branded clothing.. panties with her initials, shirts that say “abby’s girl.” she went as far as to buy you a collar with “property of: abigail anderson.” inscribed on the inside. if she chokes you hard enough while fucking you, the words make an indent on your skin.

• ✨ abby's strap is clear ✨ idc idc! argue wit ya mom!!!!

• abby was never really a religious girl.. but she swears up to god above that she can feel you squeezing her strap.

• refers to it as “her” cock, “her” dick ashqtfgegyshhhhhhhhh

• abby loves loves LOVES orgasm controoool!!! she picks up on the little tell-tale signs that you’re going to cum fairly quickly, and it isnt long after until shes asking if she can teach you how to cum on command.

• gets you so so fucking close, and makes you hold it. starting at a one minute delay, then three minutes, then five. before stopping what shes doing entirely, denying you of climax.

• once she finally decided you’ve had enough. she makes you count down from ten before you can come, she does this over and over. breaking your brain and pushing you into deeper submission

• ??? the first time you fall into subspace ??? oh my stars, abby ‘bout loses her goddamn mind! she can literally watch all thoughts leave your head, loves watching you go all stupid. she takes account of the shift in your face, the sudden increase of spasms in your legs, the broken moans. she just keeps fucking you back on her cock, telling you how pretty you are when you dont think <3!

• “my sweet little braindead baby, huh?”

• “y’probably don't even know what that means, hm?”

• “ah- yes baby, thats my stupid girl.”

• “mmmm.. say ‘bye, bye’ to your brain with me, little girl”

• and then literally stops fucking you so she can make you wave n’ say "bye, bye brain” with her.

• aftercare GOD !!!

• her favorite is to just let you relish in the floaty feeling of the after-glow.

• “took my cock so well, dummy. m’so proud.”

• she gets you a glass of water and an ibuprofen, because lets be real: you’re already sore.

• turns on a movie and tucks you both in, giving you kisses, scratching your back.

• falls asleep absolutely pussy-drunk and with her nose buried in your hair.

mmkay, byeeeee!

[fleming-o]

Behind the spotlight - Niamh Charles x Reader

request here

Award show nerves aren’t always the best

angst with comfort

---

The soft hum of the city buzzed just outside the window as you fidgeted with your cufflinks, trying to push down the tension building in the room. Niamh stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the strap of her dress for what had to be the tenth time. Her brow was creased, lips pressed into a thin line, and her usually bright eyes were clouded with something heavier tonight.

"You look stunning, you know?" you said, stepping closer, hands hovering just inches from Niamh’s waist. You didn’t want to touch her yet—not when the air between you felt so fragile.

Niamh’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. "Thanks."

The flatness of her voice cut through your chest, but you kept quiet, knowing better than to push. Niamh wasn’t usually one to show her insecurities. She was a fighter on and off the pitch, and tonight was supposed to be a celebration of that. But the way she kept glancing at her reflection, adjusting her dress, her earrings, her hair, told a different story.

After a moment of silence, you finally stepped forward, resting a hand gently on Niamh’s back. "You okay?"

Niamh’s shoulders stiffened under your touch, and you instantly regretted asking. "Yeah, I’m fine," she said quickly, too quickly.

"Are you sure?" you pressed gently, not trying to pry but unable to shake the worry.

Niamh sighed, her fingers stilling at her side. She met your eyes in the mirror, her expression hard to read. "I just... I don’t know why I’m even going tonight. It’s not like I’ve had a standout season or anything."

You blinked, taken aback. "What are you talking about? You’ve been incredible this season."

Niamh scoffed, turning away from the mirror and folding her arms across her chest. "Incredible? I barely played for half the season because of my shoulder injury, and when I did, I was hardly at my best. I don’t even know why they invited me."

Your heart ached hearing her speak like that. You stepped in front of her, gently grabbing her hands. "Niamh, you’re being too hard on yourself. You pushed through, you came back stronger, and everyone’s noticed. You deserve to be there as much as anyone else."

Niamh pulled her hands back, looking away. "I don’t feel like I do. It just feels... fake, like I’m playing a part tonight or something. All those cameras, the smiles, the awards. It’s all for people who’ve done so much more this season. Not me."

You felt frustration rising in your chest, not at her but at the situation, at how much she was doubting herself. "You’re not playing a part," you said softly. "You’ve earned this. And it’s okay to feel nervous or unsure, but you can’t let that take away from everything you’ve accomplished."

Niamh shook her head, a humorless laugh escaping her. "You don’t get it. I don’t feel like I’ve accomplished anything. I feel like I’m just... there, you know? Filling a spot."

The room went silent, tension thick between you. You knew how much the injury had weighed on Niamh, how hard she’d worked to get back to full fitness, but hearing her like this, so vulnerable, was new. Niamh always hid it so well.

"You’re more than just a spot-filler, Niamh. You’ve fought through so much this season. That means something."

Niamh’s eyes flickered with doubt, maybe frustration, but she stayed quiet, her gaze fixed on the floor, her thoughts clearly heavy.

After a beat of silence, you sighed and stepped back. "Look, I know tonight feels big and overwhelming, but you don’t have to go if you really don’t want to. We can stay home, watch a movie, whatever you need."

Niamh’s head shot up, surprise flickering across her face. "No, I—" She hesitated, her voice softening. "I want to go. I just... I don’t know how to be okay with it."

Your heart squeezed. You stepped forward again, brushing a thumb over her cheek. "Then let me help you. We’ll get through tonight together, okay?"

Niamh’s shoulders sagged slightly, her walls crumbling just a little. She nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Okay."

---

The awards night was every bit as glamorous and overwhelming as Niamh had expected. Lights flashed from all directions as you walked into the venue, cameras capturing every smile, every step. Niamh’s hand was tight in yours, her fingers cold and stiff. You could feel her pulse racing beneath her skin.

"You’re doing great," you whispered, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as you made your way through the crowd, trying to ease some of the tension radiating off her.

She gave a small nod, but her grip on your hand only tightened.

The night passed in a blur of speeches, applause, and polished smiles. Niamh sat rigidly at your table, her eyes darting around the room, never settling for long. Every time the camera panned across the audience, she straightened up, forcing a smile you could tell wasn’t real. You squeezed her hand under the table, hoping to remind her that you were there, that she wasn’t alone in this.

When Niamh’s name was finally called for an award, you saw the flicker of panic flash across her face. She stood slowly, hesitating just long enough for the applause to feel awkward before making her way to the stage.

You watched her closely as she accepted the award, the way she held it in her hands like it didn’t belong to her, the way her voice wavered just slightly as she gave a brief thank-you speech. Niamh was always a fighter, but tonight, she looked like she was fighting against herself.

When she returned to the table, her smile was brittle, her eyes distant. You leaned in, whispering softly, "I’m so proud of you."

Niamh’s jaw clenched, her fingers trembling slightly as she placed the award on the table. "I don’t deserve this."

Your heart sank. "Yes, you do. You worked so hard to get back here. You deserve every bit of this recognition."

Niamh shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "It doesn’t feel like it. I feel like a fraud."

You wanted to argue, to tell her again how wrong she was, but you could see how fragile she was in that moment. Instead, you placed a hand gently on her thigh, grounding her. "You’re not a fraud, Niamh. You’re one of the strongest people I know. And even if you can’t see that right now, I do. I believe in you."

Niamh’s eyes filled with unshed tears, and for a moment, the mask she’d been wearing all night crumbled. She leaned into your touch, her body sagging with the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

"I don’t know how to feel better about this," she admitted quietly, her voice trembling. "I feel so... lost."

Your heart broke for her, but you stayed steady, knowing she needed you to be her anchor. "You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just take it one step at a time, okay? You’re not alone in this."

Niamh nodded, her grip on your hand tightening again, this time not out of anxiety but out of gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice raw. "For everything."

You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Always."

---

Later, after the lights had dimmed and the applause had faded, you found yourselves back in your apartment. Niamh sat on the edge of the bed, the award resting on the nightstand, her gaze distant.

"You were amazing tonight," you said gently, sitting beside her. "I hope you know that."

Niamh didn’t respond right away. She stared at the award, her expression conflicted, before finally speaking. "I’m trying to believe it."

You wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "You will. And until then, I’ll remind you every day."

Niamh rested her head on your shoulder, her body finally relaxing into your embrace. "I love you," she whispered, her voice soft but steady.

You pressed a kiss to her hair, your heart full. "I love you too."

And in that quiet moment, with the weight of the night behind you and the warmth of your love surrounding her, Niamh allowed herself to believe—if only just a little—that maybe, just maybe, she really did deserve it all

---