#bc i got them when i was 18 and was not dressing how i actually like to dress bc i didn’t know what to do w myself

[lesbianlenas]

ever since i discovered thrifting clothes online it is now a weakness of mine i’m like oh i can get this nice shirt for an affordable price? and then i have gotten 5 shirts at an affordable price and spent $80 😔✌️

[shrimpybbq]

rafe, his fiancée and their family in the 18 month gap between s3 and s4

“What do you think about another baby?”

rafe is ecstatic about the prospect of another kid, and he shows it. he’s constantly spoiling his girl, always doting on her and helping her around the house. he makes sure to hire staff around tannyhill and ensure she doesn’t have to stress, making sure to spend time each night with his family despite the chaos of his day. rafe knows her first pregnancy wasn’t the best (bc of him) and he wants to give her a whole new experience

high school gf was worried about telling him she was pregnant again, knowing how badly it all went the first time. she knew rafe had grown to love his son and his family, but she was still apprehensive about his reaction, knowing he was in a stressful period of life rn. she didn’t have anything to worry about however, seeing straight away how different rafe was with her now. he loved being a father and was so keen to have another baby, especially now everything is his, and he can provide for his family the way he wants

baby no. 2 was a girl, just as rafe wanted. he already has little charlie, who is a carbon copy of himself, but he wants a little girl who looks just like her mother. rafe already loved to stare at his fiancée’s face, but imagining her looking after a mini version of herself - rafe thinks he might die.

as his fiancée and mother of his child, high school gf is living good. rafe is struggling with his father’s death, but mostly, they’re happy - really, really happy. charlie is starting to speak, and he is so excited to have a baby sister

oh you know the jokes are going around the OBX about how rafe just can’t keep it in his pants (but who could blame him when his girl is just so hot)

rafe doing the absolute most to have his fiancée relaxed and resting at all times - he loves to take her out on the boat and let her lay in the warm sun, especially because she gets so clingy when she’s sleepy and calm

rafe who begins to secretly hunt for a new house for the family to move into, wanting a new space just for themselves. tannyhill had too many bad vibes and rafe wants to start fresh

the family are often seen out and about the island with little charlie either toddling in front of his parents, or being swung in between their outstretched arms

charlie becoming known by those on the island as a cheeky little boy, always pulling faces and trying to play with everyone

rafe watching his girl get closer and closer to her due date and growing more and more anxious - he was so coked up the first time that he never really worried, but now he is always hovering and checking in on their baby

rafe is there for this delivery!! he's 100% holding his fiancée’s hand and brushing her sweaty hair out of her face, whispering "you can do this, baby, you've got this"

the nurses let him cut the cord once his daughter is born and he is definitely crying and trying to subtly wipe away his tears

the whole family spending the next few weeks hiding in their new house enjoying their first moments with their new little girl

rafe picks her name and decides to call her emmeline, emmy for short

if any family ever gave off rich vibes, it's the cameron's. rafe has his kids dressed to the nines, nice cars in the driveway of his new house and his fiancée wearing the nicest jewellery

all the women on kildare being so jealous once they see sexy muscular rafe cameron fussing over a tiny little baby, emmy clutched tightly in his arms as his fiancée holds charlie's hand

rafe would never admit it, but he loves the looks he gets when he walks around his little girl - he might be loyal but he still likes to be reminded he's hot sorry not sorry

wedding time!!!!

i think their wedding is actually very casual, maybe even a holiday elopement

rafe doesn't really like the people in the obx that much and so when his girl suggested getting married somewhere quiet, just the two of them, he was like "mmm, why not?"

the pair get married on a private beach in hawaii, rafe in a loose white shirt and a pair of linen trousers, his girl in a silky dress (this is so serious to me)

they hire a photographer and definitely put a big wedding pic on their hallway wall

everyone in the obx knew it was coming (bc they were engaged) but people are still a little shocked that the high school couple actually got married?

i see them settling into a nice routine once back, really just wifey looking after their little family, rafe running cameron development and the family spending all their time together happily

idk i'm just very passionate about the concept of rafe being loved and giving love in return bc it's clear he's capable of it, he just needs to feel safe and nurtured

click here for pre-season 1 rafe, gf & their unborn son

click here for season 1 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 2 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 3 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 4 part 1 rafe, gf & their son

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (they do wear a dress and lingerie tho), reader and shouto are married, reader was in 1-A, pro hero shouto, everyone is 27+, alcohol consumption (shouto’s drunk), mentions of smoking a blunt (reader’s high), sex in a classroom, idfk GENRE: smut bruh SUMMARY: when you suggest doing it in public briefly and in passing to your husband, you were not expecting him to take you up on that offer at your fucking high school reunion!? WORD COUNT: 1.9K 🦊’s A/N: okay. so. this was originally supposed to be for iida, but since FORDULA couldn’t do day 18 like they were meant to… i wrote it for shouto instead bc im not writing for tenya sorry yall // also i wrote most of this the day before it was due after waking up at 5am so uhm 👍 god help me

     the very last thing you were expecting from your husband would be the idea of him enjoying semi-public sex—it made sense how one would arrive to this conclusion, seeing as how he’s such a reserved person and all. you don’t even remember when it was that you brought it up—it must have just been a comment in passing; not that shouto missed it, of course. and then the suggestion got him thinking…. like seriously considering it. the more he thought about it, the more arousing it became to him, until it was a borderline fantasy: him fucking you somewhere you could easily be caught at with a large hand covering your mouth to make sure no one could overhear your desperate little noises. fuck.

     now he finds himself at his ten year high school reunion, all dressed up with a raging erection that he was trying to hide by sitting at one of the tables there, grateful for the fabric draped over them, as he drinks and drinks to calm his nerves. thank god you volunteered to drive back home tonight. you don’t know what possessed you, but you didn’t feel like getting slizzard tonight—a stark contrast to your husband, who was trying to drink his boner away. (without much luck, mind you.)

     when you come back over from the dancefloor to check in on your husband, however, he’s quick to excuse himself from the table he’d been seated at all night and drag you off to an empty classroom. 

     “shouto? ‘s something wrong?” you ask, looking up at him. 

     “no—i just—” how does he put this? “really wanna fuck you,” is what comes out of his drunken lips, his brain to mouth filter having shut off for the night. (was it really there to begin with though..?)

     “oh!” you squeak as your cheeks flush at his words and he backs you up against the door. “h–here?” you’re at a loss for words entirely while shouto places both large, calloused hands on your hips as he begins to press sloppy, drunken kisses along your neck. “sh–shouto!”

     “mmh?” he hums, not pausing in his actions—he doubles down, actually, by nipping at the tender flesh of your throat, the hands on your hips sliding down your thighs, down to the hem of the disgustingly skimpy dress you had decided to wear tonight—the reason for his raging erection all night—where they sneak up under it and back of to your hips so he could feel your bare flesh, quirk activating enough for you to feel an extreme difference in temperatures, but not ruin the fabric of your dress from the inside out.

     “we—we can’t do that here; someone’s gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long!” you weakly protest, words holding no real weight. because if you were being one hundred percent honest, you wanted this just as much as he did, even without any alcohol in your system! (you had smoked a blunt and hotboxed the shit out of your car after arriving at the prestigious school, though, as you refused to be sober for an event such as this.)

     “oh yeah? like who?” he counters, beginning to suck at your neck, not lingering on any one spot.

     “a–ashido, probably! i— i just got done dancing with her—”

     “i know, ‘ve been watchin’ you all night,” he slurs. “so you’re just taking a break—maybe you went to the bathroom, that’s not her business.” his hips press into yours, and you whine at the feeling of his hardened cock pressing against your crotch. 

     “god—you’re so full of shit,” you tell him, burying one hand in his two toned hair while the other settles on a sturdy shoulder, and todoroki can’t help but smile at your words.

     “so?” you can feel him grinning against your neck, like a drunken fool in love (which is exactly what he was, by the way). 

     you’re out of comebacks and excuses as to why he shouldn’t fuck you right here, right now, so instead of trying to argue against hip, you tug at his hair so he’ll look at you before leaning in to press a kiss to his plump lips. 

     he tasted like the sake he’d been sipping on all night as he watched you with that intense gaze of his—something he inherited from his father, like it or not—and he hums in a pleased manner as he grips your hips tighter.

     “how much have you had to drink tonight, baby?” you ask once you reluctantly pull away from the kiss—a question shouto chooses to ignore.

     he’d had maybe three and a half red solo cups worth of sake in his system, which was enough for his inhibitions of being caught melt away. he almost hopes you two do get caught (by an old classmate at least) just so he can wordlessly flex that he was the one with the smoking hot spouse and not them. 

     so, with your minimal resistance and shouto’s horny persistence, it’s not long until he’s got his thumbs hooked in the waistband of your panties and is tugging them down your thighs, asking you to step out of them so can keep them in his pocket (for the rest of the reunion). 

     “hhnng—,” you whine as two of shouto’s icy fingers move to play with your clit, and a chill runs down your spine at the feeling. “sho—” you’re cut off by a kiss as your husband slots his lips over yours, teeth clacking slightly as he kisses you sloppily and hungrily. it wasn’t unusual for shouto’s to be a bit of a sloppy kisser (as it turns out, he’s a really big fan of swapping spit), but generally he was more put together than he was right now—it’s like he was trying to eat you whole as his tongue easily slid into your already open mouth.

     you, ever the tease, quickly get with the program and arch your back, pressing your chest against his, and start sucking on his almost burning tongue—something that catches him only slightly off guard. he’s fast with his response though, left hand moving to squeeze your ass, heating up enough to leave a faint burning handprint.

     “fuck!” you squeal at the searing touch and accidentally bite shouto’s tongue in the process.

     he pulls away with a hiss but no real disdain before the same hand that had left a print on your butt comes up to cover your mouth. sure, the music in the gym was awfully loud, but there could still be some other people in the hallway—maybe people who actually had to use the bathroom. it doesn’t matter. what matters is that shouto gets to fuck you, and—an idea comes to mind that only his drunk, secretly perverted brain could think of.

     “shhh,” he shushes you, pulling his hand away from your mouth in order to undo his belt buckle and unbutton his nice dress pants. 

     biting your lip, you nod as he tugs the slacks and his boxers down to about half way down his thick thighs, letting his painfully hard cock spring free and slap against his lower stomach. you can’t help but bite your bottom lip at the sight, and you go to sink to your knees to suck him off before he’s tugging you back up by the hair.

     “no,” he pants, taking his dick in one hand as he plants the other back on your hip. “need t’fuck you—please, angel, i— it hurts,” he whines, lining his throbbing length up with your already wet slit.

     “yeah? okay, fuck—go ahead, baby,” you give him permission to actually insert himself, and he groans loudly at the feeling of your tight heat finally engulfing him. jesus! he had waited all night for this, and it was so worth it.

      “hnngh—shit,” he whimpers, the hand that was previously holding his dick moving to play with your puffy clit as he pushes into you slowly at first before bottoming out all at once. fuck! 

     your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but moan shouto’s name while tugging at his hair as he kisses you sloppy style once more. 

     with how drunk and horny he was, it doesn’t take long for your husband to approach his climax, and with the way he was toying with your sensitive button, you’re quickly being worked up to one too, until—

     knockknockknock!

     “hello..? i thought i heard someone groan, are you okay in there?” the voice is familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on who it was. (it was hagakure, by the way.)

     shouto freezes in all his actions and looks at you with half lidded eyes and a knowing smirk, cheeks flushed as he tries to quieten his breathing. your hips involuntarily roll down against the fingers still pressed against your clit, and you accidentally let out a quiet moan before covering your mouth with both hands, face burning with shame and arousal.

     “all fine in here, thanks,” shouto’s able to get out, though his voice is strained. “just— ….reminiscing!” he lies, as if he wasn’t balls deep in you right now.

     “ooh! fun! can i join?” the door handle jiggles, and shouto’s hand flys out to freeze the door shut. “—huh? hey, what’s with the door?”

     “it’s—uhm, it’s personal memories,” he follows up, dick twitching inside you. fuck, how was he meant to last like this?

     you almost giggle at his lame ass excuse and over the top reaction, until you remember that over the top reaction is the exact reason tooru hadn’t just seen you both in such a compromising position.

     “we’ll be—done soon!” you call out, and at the sound of your voice and insistence on her not coming in, the invisible woman gets the message before saying oh! okay! and finally walking off.

     “that was— that was close, wasn’t it?” shouto pants, starting to move his hips again as his fingers resume their circular motions against your clit. 

     “yeah, i could really feel how excited you were,” you chuckle, to which shouto huffs and picks up his pace. “nngh–!” you moan softly, as you both finally get a chance to cum.

     your husband's dick twitches sporadically deep inside you before hot, sticky cum spills out of it and into you as your pussy spasms and flutters around him, milking shouto for everything he was worth and then some. 

     slowly pulling out of you, he plants a kiss to your spit-soaked lips before pulling his pants back up and redoing his belt and melting away the ice he had created not too long ago as you tug the hem of your dress down, and—hey! that panty thief!

     “shouto…. aren’t you forgetting something?” you try to remind him, cringing at the feeling of his cum starting to leak out of your wet cunt and trickle down your thigh. 

     “mmh,” his brows scrunch in thought, as if he’s actually thinking. “no? i don’t think so?” he moves to grab the door handle, but you bat his hand away and tug at his wrist.

     “my…. my panties?” you say, trying to squeeze your thighs together to prevent any more cum from dripping out, but to no avail.

     “oh! right—” he goes to take them out of his pocket before he pauses and a smirk tugs at his pouty lips. “you can have them back when we get home,” he tells you, opening the door and starting to walk out. “now come on, the others are going to get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

goddamn him!

return to KINKTOBER | S. TODOROKI M.LIST

[neuvistar]

ASS, TITS OR THIGHS?

— featuring ┊satoru gojo, toji fushiguro, suguru geto, kento nanami, choso kamo x fem!reader (all separate)

— warnings / content warnings ┊suggestive obvi, not proofread oops, cunnilingus, uhm uhm use of nicknames, riding, mentions of titfucking, overall suggestive content | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

— a/n ┊jujutsu kaisen hyperfixation got the best of me guys i betrayed u all and accidentally became a gojo + sukuna liker i’m sorry. apology coming soon /j 😔

𖦹 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

let’s be real here.. i know damn well this guy is definitely a tit man. cmon it’s just this feeling in me that can sense this guy’s love for titties, he’s the number one tit lover guys im telling you! i bet gojo is def the type to stand behind you and tower over you) at random times and slowly slip his large hands into your shirt, squeezing your tits like it’s the most casual thing for him! of course you wouldn’t mind.. so you would just carry on with whatever you were doing. up until he nuzzles against your nape, inhaling your scent as his fingers tug and pinch at your sensitive nipples, smirking against your skin when he hears you whimper at his touch. this guy makes your head spin sometimes it’s actually insane. “ooh. they’re soft.” “that’s how they’re supposed to be, dumbass” ngl i feel like gojo would love your tits for the dumbest reason ever, like since he’s rlly rlly tall i feel like he would like your tits all because “they’re easier to reach” LMFAO he’s so silly! this guy probably love’s embarrassing you sometimes cuz he would grab your tits literally ANYWHERE (if ur fine w it ofc) in conclusion.. he loves seeing you all embarrassed whenever he brings a hand to cup your tits in his hand!

gojo here loves stuffing his face in your tits, he doesn’t care.. it’s the ocean he wants to dive into 2nite lol! anyways sometimes during sweet little cuddle sessions he would straight up pull you up by your hips and press himself closer against your body before leaning down to drown his face in the softness your tits, cmon.. can you blame him? but anyways! gojo loves your titties regardless.. big or small, small or big, he’ll still be willing to shove his face in ‘em! he definitely has a thing for titfucking, you just.. look so hot laying there all sweet for him, squeezing your tits against his hard cock while he thrusts in between them, trying his best not to overdo it. “f—fuck.. they’re so soft.. so perfect. no one has ever fucked your tits like this like i have right, angel? mhm? look at them.. s’pretty and all mine.” he pinched your nipples rather harshly, forcing a whine to leave your pretty lips. “all mine, yeah?”

𖦹 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

look me in the eyes and tell me toji fushiguro doesn’t look like the ultimate ass man ever, cmon tell me! are we really surprised tho? are we REALLY surprised? he looks like the biggest ass man known to mankind it’s not even funny at this point he loves ass he mfing does i tell you. this old hag probably steals a few glances at your ass from time to time whenever you wear a skirt.. or a dress for special occasions, toji cant control himself bro it’s not his fault you had allat back there.. it’s not his fault for looking it was an accident! (no it was not and you knew it) ngl the first time he caught a glimpse of your ass he probably said “damn.” so loudly, loud and clear for you to hear. “damn.” you heard a familiar voice behind you, glancing over your shoulder to see your boyfriend’s intense gaze at your bottom. “i knew your ass was nice but i didn’t know it was this nice.. damnn.” “oh shut up, will you?” idk abt u guys but toji is probably the type to slap it while you walk past him sometimes.. like it’s so unexpected you just straight up flinch and glare up at him, rubbing it to try and ease the pain bc i bet his slaps HURT sometimes

toji 100% a fan of you taking it from the back.. he loves it! i mean do i need to explain further? though he loves seeing your facial expressions to see just how well he fucks you but i feel like he prefers to see your ass and well-defined back. you have this man in a TRANCE. no matter how hard he tries to focus on you, his eyes always manage to wander down to your rear. he loves pounding into you mercilessly like there’s no tomorrow just to see the jiggle physics of yo ass because gahhh dayummmm he loves the way it moves, my guy probably spanks too i’m telling u this dude loves ass, especially yours.. it’s an unhealthy obsession at this point idk what to tell u 🤷‍♀️

𖦹 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

suguru def a thigh man, i don’t even know my reasoning but he just screams thigh man.. like he seems like the type to love them ykwim? like he just loves diving into them any time he gets, holding your thighs against his hands while he pushes them to your chest. he def loves eating you out just so he can feel your thighs caging around his head, he loves how soft they are, how warm they feel whenever he gives them a little squeeze. personally i bet this fucker is probably a lil crazy about your thighs, just a little bit! whenever you sit on his face, he pushes you even more against his mouth. his tongue is talented that’s all i have to say, suguru doesn’t give two fucks if he can’t breath against your overstimulated pussy, he wants you to crush him with your pretty thighs thighs.. he wants your thighs to be the last thing he feels + sees before he suffocates and dies a happy man! suguru would keep you spread on his face, not caring about anything else in the world but you and your plushy thighs around his head. buddy probably eats you out like it’s his last, squeezing and helping your thighs trap his face in between them. god, he loves your thighs

suguru wrapped his lips around your pussy again, forcefully pulling you even closer until his nose was bumping against your clit, was that even possible? “s—su.. suguru!” one orgasm, then the next.. and the next after that, he hasn’t even came up for air.. you were worried at how much your thighs caged around his head, worrying about suffocating further. you tried pulling yourself up, looking down at him as your lips quivered. “suguru you okay?—“ no. he was most definitely not! he was struggling 2 breath but he didn’t give TWO FUCKS!! “your thighs.. feel so warm around me. sit back down, princess. i’m not done.. ‘wanna feel your pretty thighs against me again.” “.. but are you sure? you were struggling to breathe i could feel it—“ “sit, princess. i said sit. do i need to repeat myself?” no siiiirrr 🙅‍♀️

𖦹 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

ngl out of everyone here nanami is the most “normal” and tamed if this question ever comes along, my guy would probably answer with something like “they’re just body parts. is there even a reason to pay attention to female assets?” uhm. no obviously not but they’re hot ++ the question is important smartass. tbh i feel like nanami wouldn’t really care, he just.. appreciates you for being there by his side, he wouldn’t really care much about your body and what he likes about it, cuz babe he loves everything about you! such a sweetheart! but in all seriousness, i feel like he’d really be into your tits for some reason.. i mean come on! sometimes if he’s feeling a lil extra EXTRA bold be would sneak a few glances towards your cleavage, swallowing the lump in his throat as he notices you didn’t have a bra on that day. nanami would literally fight for his life and try his best to restrain himself n his desires every single time he would see you in any outfit that shows your cleavage.

i bet there was this one time you guys were about to cook together n you needed help with the apron so he helped you tie it, but then his hand accidentally brushed against your breast LMFAO. poor guy would realize slowly after and start contemplating his whole life and life decisions, apologizing to you sincerely and that he didn’t mean to do that! “kento seriously it’s fine, i don’t mind! if you wanted to touch them, you could’ve said so.” “i told you it was an accident, love. it’s not like that at all.” you chuckled at him before grabbing his hand and slowly bringing it close to your tits, making him touch em as the soft skin of your tits melt into his palm. “soft right?” you cooed, wincing a little when you felt his thumb brushing against your hardened nipple. “..mm.” cmon kento ⁉️ don’t be in denial! accept yourself as a certified tittie liker!

𖦹 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

tbh this guy could love all three of these, like there is not a single part of you he loves more than the other but if he really had to choose.. he would probably be fond of your ass, making him a semi ass man despite him.. probably liking all three! but then again.. lemme just say.. i know an ass/tit man when i see one (n he looks like one but my pick for today is ass) poor choso probably caught himself looking at your ass for a whole minute and he had to slap himself for a second to get himself back to reality, he can’t help it! your body is so hypnotic to him. i bet he’s also the type to give your bottom little taps and pokes whenever he needs something from you (damn) ++ my guy is probably a fan of you taking it from the back also, just like toji! listen listen okay. listen. reverse cowgirl position. lemme tell u he gets SOOO flustered whenever you ride him with your back turned against him, bouncing yourself on his cock while he can’t help but look down at your ass and how much it moved (lolz!) and how well your cunt was sucking him in! choso probably the type to bring a hand up to pull your hair, running his fingers through your hair as he tugs your back to him with your back arched, planting soft chaste kisses on your neck

choso doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable in anyway so he absolutely refuses to even plant a lil smack to your ass, even just a soft one! he would hold himself back n wouldn’t do it unless you wanted him too! if you do.. expect a lot of them coming your way because i bet he loves seeing your ass jiggle LIKEEE ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY NO MORE i bet his cock would twitch inside you every single fucking time he would see the jiggle physics of your ass! like i said.. he’s a fan of you taking it from the back! jiggle physics go absolutely craaaaazy 😝🙏

[bananami]

STFUATTDLAGG

character/s: choso kamo x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS: meangirl!reader x loser!choso is a pairing that lives in my head rent free so when you all voted for choso to be the next hot man i wrote for i knew this was what would come out of it so let’s get into it whores

WARNINGS: this is college based bc u know why. 18+, nsfw, mdni, the whole shebang, kiddos avert ur eyes IT'S ALL SMUT / also just be aware i did use fem language for reader. as always, i did not proof read xxx

A/N: delusion is like drugs for simps, and i am the crackhead

Choso isn't like a nerdy loser, more like he’s just an emo boy, he’s got that alternative look going on and in a school full of preppy rich kids he stands out like a sore thumb. Of course this leads to some not so nice kids being not so nice to him, to which like he literally could not care less. He pays no mind to what anyone thinks of him beyond of course what his brothers think of him.

And as much as people aren’t nice to him, they do not fuck with him directly, lowkey scared of his reactions. Especially following a specfic incident in which someone tried to pick a fight with him. At first he was going to just let it slide but then they said something rude about Yuuji and this man laid them out. People were sent to urgent care and everything. Choso was put on suspension and almost kicked out, but their family friend is a lawyer and threatened to sue the school and anyways (if you know who you know who) so he was allowed back at school and everyone’s a little weary of him. This doesn’t stop the mean comments from coming.

And you. You’re no exception. You made fun of him every chance you got. The way he always did his hair in that weird double bun updo, or how he had his nails painted black, his various piercings and tattoos, the way he dressed so much different, was so much different, than any of the other guys you knew at school.

And you were so disgustingly attracted to him. While everyone would sneer and make fun of him and you played along, in reality you were internally berating yourself.

Choso did his best to ignore you but to be honest in the end you were just too fun to mess with. He thought it was cute how you thought you could hurt his feelings, how you really tried, and didn’t realize that he had a thing for brats and that’s just what you were. Everyone else was too afraid to say it straight to his face ever since the fight except for you.

One time he caught you staring at him and he couldn’t help himself, leaning over with a careless smirk. "If you spent less time staring at me and more time paying attention to the lecture maybe you wouldn’t be failing the class."

"Fuck you, Choso.”

"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You hoped he’d mistake your embarrassment for anger. He didn’t. You snapped back, as usual. "Maybe if you didn’t dress like such a freak, you’d actually have some friends.”

"Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch your boyfriends would actually stick around for longer than a few months."

The one stung, and you tried not to let it show. Thrown off your game, all you could bring yourself to reply back was: “don’t call me a bitch.”

He shrugged, as though he were bored with the conversation already. "I never said it was a bad thing, just that you keep dating dudes who can’t handle you."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He doesn't answer though, and you spend way too much time thinking about what he could've meant. Was he implying that he could handle you? Was that why he constantly found ways to poke at you? Did he like when you were a brat? Did it matter if he liked it? It led your fantasies down a deep and dark rabbit hole that you spent weeks harping on.

Things get even worse after you realize that Choso might’ve been right about your grades slipping and staring at him in class and whatnot. And (for plot reasons of course) that would mean your professor paired you up with him for the final project so that you’d stand a better chance at passing the class.

Which is how you find yourself standing outside of his apartment door, debating how much you need to actually pass the course for your degree. You kept coming to the same conclusion. You definitely needed to.

"You just gonna stand at my door like a creep or can you move so i can let you inside?” He stood at the top of the staircase up to his apartment, watching you with another bored expression.

You're reaction is second nature. "I’m the creep? How long were you just standing there watching me? Maybe I’d already knocked and you didn’t answer so I was waiting. Let’s get on with it, I don’t need anyone seeing me hanging around-”

"Alright relax, princess. No one’s around to hear you act like you hate me. Come inside and I’ll grab us something to drink.” He opened the door to let you both inside, holding it open for you to enter first.

"First off, I do hate you. And second, how do I know you’re not going to poison me?”

"Don’t worry, I wouldn’t poison you. The plan was going more in the direction of choking.”

"Choked to death? Good to know.”

"You implied killing. All i said was choking.”

"Oh, gross.” You groaned. You pushed away the images that were brought to your mind. Choso's hand around your throat, fingers in your mouth, his breathy whispers telling you what else he'd have you choking on by the end of the night.

It's not too bad for the first few hours. You start out working on the project in the living room, but Choso’s neighbors are loud as all hell and you eventually ask if you guys can move into a room away from that shared wall. And (of course for plot purposes) that would be his bedroom.

"Your bedroom is exactly as I pictured it would be."

"This is the part where I make fun of you for picturing what my bedroom looks like."

"Yeah weird and creepy, just like you.”

"Your insults are getting less and less creative.”

"Yeah well….shut up.”

He’s surprised at that, usually you’d come back at him with something witty and clever and he actually enjoyed it.

It’s quiet and he’s sitting at his desk while you lay casually on his bed when he decides now’s as good a time as ever, and he might never actually get you alone again to say it.

"You ever gonna admit that you find me attractive or keep lying to the both of us?"

You wince. "I don't find you attractive. Stop flattering yourself."

"You flatter me enough with all the staring and drooling you do over me in class."

"You're obsessive," you snap at him.

"At least i can admit it."

You're caught off guard, stuck between wanting to ask what he means and not wanting to give in to the obvious baiting he's doing. When he throws the study material down on to his desk and plops down in front of you on his bed, it seems like he's resigned to not giving you that choice.

"Tell you what, I'll tell you all of the dirty and depraved things I think about on a daily basis, and you can decide after whether you'd like to share those same thoughts of yours with me or not."

"Why would I want to hear any of the thoughts in your head?"

"Because a lot of them revolve directly around you." He's leaned so close you're almost touching one another. Your silence is enough to spur him on. "I think you've never been fucked properly before."

You can't contain the look that falls on your face. "Seriously? This what you think about? My sex life is none of your business, but I'm doing just fine in that department, thank you very much."

He ignores you. "I don't think you've ever been told to shut the fuck up and take it like the good girl I know you can be." That shut you up real quick. Choso is on his knees in front of you, hands cupping around your neck, his thumbs running across your cheeks. "You're whiney little fucking attitude not do it for your boyfriends?" He teased. "They not know how to deal with you when you're being a brat, huh?"

You're head moves without conscious effort, nodding to agree with him.

"You just want some attention, don't you?"

Another nod.

"You want my attention, don't you?"

Hesitation. But you can't help yourself, his presence looming heavy over you, pushing you to admit what you'd kept in the dark for so long.

One of his hands slithers from your throat, down your chest, under the sweats you threw on in a rush to get to his apartment. You're so distracted by his fingers that you don't notice his face moving closer until his mouth is prying yours open. That's all it takes from him to have you stroking your fingers through his hair, pulling it out of the buns they typically are held in.

"Such a little brat." He's hovering over you, pushing your hips into the soft cushion of his bed with his. "Feel how hard it makes me?" He teases as he grinds his hips down, his clothed cock sliding against your center. Your eyes flutter and he grips onto your face with one hand, squeezing firmly. "You're gonna fuck me tonight. Nod if you understand."

You can't believe how quick your head moves up and down. "You're gonna take off those pretty little panties you wore hoping I'd get to see and slide up and down my dick until I tell you to stop. I don't want you cumming until I feel you've begged enough."

It takes no time at all for him to flip the two of you and prop himself up on his forearms. His pants are shimmied off and thrown to his bedroom floor alongside yours.

Your hands are desperate to line him up, anticipation building to have him deep inside of you, but his shoot out to pull them up and place them against his chest. "No, no, no. You don't get me inside you yet, not until you prove to me you deserve it." He urges you along his shaft, flat against his stomach. "That's right, be a good little slut for me and let me feel that pussy slide against my dick."

You watch him from above, his face contorting from concentration to pleasure to near desperation. You've never felt as powerful as you did riding him. Not a single one of your boyfriends ever turning you on as much as Choso was right now. He made you work for it, praising you when you did what he asked, and you chased that praise.

"Shit, look at that baby," he grabbed your hair and yanked your face down to watch yourself slide against him. "Need to feel you squeeze that pussy around me. Fuck, slide me in, slide me in-" his loud groans matched your high pitched sound of relief at having him seated inside you. "Fuck this."

He flipped the two of you back over, gripping each of your legs and forcing them up. "Hold right under your knees for me. Good girl, keep yourself open for me, let me just use you." He fell to his forearms as he plowed into you, giving you no time to get used to any sort of pace.

You tried your best to hold your legs, but you wanted so badly to touch him. One of your hands wandered back up into his lose hair.

He could barely keep his eyes open, mumbling all kinds of truths you were sure he would've kept locked inside had he not been so drunk on the feel of being inside you. "So fucking pretty," he kissed you sloppily, "such a stupid fucking brat, just needed my cock inside you. Feel like heaven, baby. Gonna let me cum inside your little cunt, right? Made me wait so fucking long to have you, I deserve it. Don't I deserve it?"

You can barely form any coherent words, setting for nodding and breathy uh huhs.

"So fucking mean to me, and look how good I'm being to you, huh?" You feel the light slap of his head against your cheek. "Say your sorry, beg me to cum inside your pussy."

You do beg, your apology comes out in between the stuttering and slurring of your words, but you beg and plead with him until he concedes. It his own orgasm that pushes you over, his groans and relentlessness that follow, pushing himself passed the point of no return. You can see the beginning of what looks like tears in his eyes, and he has to force himself to stop, his hips jerking from the overstimulation.

He kisses you ruthlessly, letting his tongue claim your mouth in a manner more harsh than it is anything else. And when he pulls away and his eyes settle back on yours they're equally as harsh.

"No more shitty little boyfriends that can't handle you. I'll handle you. You want my cock, you ask nicely. Understand?"

"Yes," you let your lips peck his, surprising him, "what if I don't wanna be nice about it?"

He smirks, "try it and find out. Now get on your knees and suck my cock like the good girl I know you can be."

[keeira2]

I’LL ALWAYS LOVE YOU

stalkerexbf!rafe x fem!reader

masterlist

summary: life takes a weird turn when your introduced with an anonymous stalker. but everything changes when he breaks into your house and your met with him face to face..

warnings: crazy!rafe, pantie stealing?, creepy!rafe, rafe threatens you with a gun, sort of cnc, heavy on the smut, CNC, spit kink, degrading kink, tied up reader, soft!rafe at the end? MDNI 18+!! if i miss any pls lmk

a/n: this is kinda long whoops, not rlly proof read so ignore any mistakes pls. it’s also rlly kinky js giving everyone a heads up. hope you guys like it :3

after another long shift at the pelican yacht club, you’re finally home. throwing your keys onto the kitchen bench nd undress for ur shower. which was what you desperately needed after serving snobby kooks for the past six hours. you let the hot water fall down your body. scrubbing ur scalp and body clean of any grime from the day.

wrapped in ur towel, you walk to ur bedroom to get dressed. grabbing a baggy tee nd a lacy thong. as ur going thru ur lingerie drawer, you notice ur favourite pair of black panties missing? which was weird because you remember folding them nd placing them in there the night before.

you brush past it, getting dressed nd collapsing onto the bed to watch murder documentaries. after less than half the episode, you find urself drifting into a deep sleep.

days, even weeks go by, your daily routine unphased. another closing shift at work, you grab ur belongings nd start to walk home. usually you’d catch the bus, but when you close it’s already 10pm nd there aren’t any buses running this late to the cut. so you walk home, wrapped in ur fur hoodie trying to ignore the cold air.

it’s only a 10 minute walk to get home, which has never been a problem especially bc you know most ppl in the cut. but this time you feel a burning gaze shooting right thru you.

you shiver, partly because it’s cold but mostly bc you have an overbearing feeling that ur being watched. you hear a rustling in the bushes behind you, which could’ve been the wind but you were NOT taking any chances. so you start to run, not looking back. you don’t stop until you get home, quickly unlocking the door nd slamming it closed behind you.

you make sure to lock all the doors and windows before hopping in the shower, which helped you shake the creepy feeling off of you. you heat up some popcorn nd snuggle under your covers.

ur trying to pick a movie to watch, occasionally leaning over to grab a handful of popcorn you hear your phone ‘ding!’. lazily reaching over to grab and check it, you freeze when ur gaze lands on the message.

unknown number: you don’t need to run away from me, doll. was js making sure you got home safe ;)

someone was following you. oh my god. you sat still for a moment, still in shock. how did they get your number? how long have they been following you? you basically led them to your home, do they know where you live now?

millions of thoughts racing through ur head, you couldn’t help but text back, your hands shaking over the letters.

you: who are you???? please leave me alone.

before you can even shut ur phone off, another ‘ding!’ catches your attention like he was waiting for your response.

unknown number: you’ll find out who i am soon enough. i’m just looking after you, don’t be scared, doll.

what does he mean i’ll found out soon enough? is he gonna come after me? did he follow me home? you’re literally shaking in fear now, ur mind racing with different possibilities.

you: please. leave me alone.

you see he’s typing, but stops. he doesn’t text you for the rest of the night, maybe he listened and he’s actually gonna leave you alone. you were just hoping that maybe it was a prank from ur friends. anything except the fact that you might actually have a stalker.

you struggle to fall asleep that night. tossing and turning in your bed, desperately trying to calm yourself. ‘the doors are locked, nobody can get in. ur okay’ you reassure yourself.

a few days go by and you start to notice more panties going missing. what the fuck? you’re left with only a few pairs now, and there’s no way you’ve just misplaced them. the realisation dawns on you. what if he’s been here. has he been in ur house??

you try calming yourself down. ensuring every window nd door is locked. sitting back down ur cozy bed, u slip under the covers and bring ur knees up to your chest in a fetal position. your breathing is heavy while u hold ur head in ur hands. you quietly sob. ur so scared. you’ve only been living by yourself for 6 months and you were scared then. why me??

you didn’t even realise how much time had gone by or when you’d gotten tired. but you rub your closed eyes, letting out a big yawn and stretching your arms out. but when you finally open them, you freeze.

a man is standing in ur room, looking right at you. you can’t muster up the courage to say anything so you just stare back completely still, unable to see his face.

“hey doll, you miss me?” a familiar voice asks, stepping closer.

your mouth falls agape. no. no. no. no. no. this cannot be happening. you’d ended things with him MONTHS ago after he started acting out, getting angry all the time, threatening to hurt you and being literally insane. you blink ur tears away, one managing to roll down ur cheek.

“r-rafe..?” you whisper, if the house wasn’t completely silent he wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

“you’re so pretty when ur sleeping, baby.” taking a step closer to you now. you try to move backwards but ur back already pressed against the bed frame. u see him reach behind him, pulling what looks like a gun out of his back pocket.

“n-no, no please.. what are you doing?” you ask shakily, trying to back away further away from him to the other side of the bed.

he sighs, “i don’t wanna have to use this, doll,” shaking the gun in his hand to refer to it,” just listen to what i say and don’t give me a reason to hurt you, alright?”

you tremble with fear, “please, rafe, please leave.. i wont tell anyone. just please” you plead with him. praying that he’ll just go and never come back, even tho you know deep down that’s not gonna happen.

“m’sorry, no can do,” taking another step foward until he’s standing over you, ”missed you so much, can’t leave now.”

his words made your heart flutter, you couldn’t help it. you couldn’t deny the way ur thighs clenched together at the thought of him putting in all this effort just to see you. why are you like this oh my god?? no. u want him to leave. you need him to leave.

after a second of hesitation you finally ask “..what do you want, rafe?” wiping a tear from ur face.

he sits down across from you on the bed, holding the gun up to face you. ‘he’s only doing this to scare you.. he would never actually hurt you’ you try convincing yourself.

“aw come on, don’t be like that, angel” his hand grazing ur knee, before placing his large hand inbetween them to gently pull ur legs apart, “i bet ur so wet right now, so desperate f’me.” he groans nd u notice the massive buldge in his jeans.

u shake ur head, “no, rafe,” you sob again, “please go.” he brings the hand that’s holding the gun to your face, pushing the hair out of ur face with it, “sh sh, it’s okay.. ur okay. save the tears for when i’m done with you, alright?”

you don’t know if that’s reassurance or a threat but either way you feel your pussy getting wetter, his hand travelling lower until its resting on ur plush thigh.

“i need you to stay still, baby, or ur gonna get hurt.” he warns sternly before standing up and reaching for his back pocket again, pulling out a thick rope. u already know how this is gonna go.

he snatches both ur hands nd goes to tie them to the headboard. u squirm nd use ur trembling body to try and push him off, he doesn’t budge until u slap his face. his face turning back to you slowly, a hand against his jaw with a smirk.

“what did i just say? hm? ur gonna regret that, doll, makin me do things i rlly didn’t wanna do.” with a harsh grip he snatches ur wrists again, ur body squirming trying to release your arms but to no avail. when ur wrists are tied down, you whince, the pressure making you sore.

he reaches down to grip ur face and pulls you in to a desperate, hungry kiss. he hovers over you, pulling ur legs apart with his body. his tongue invading your mouth. as much as you hated this, you couldn’t help but kiss him back.

when he finally pulls away he wastes no time in ripping off ur shirt, “no bra, hm? knew you wanted this.” he groans and attaches his lips to ur tits, licking and sucking at ur nipples causing you to let out a series of faint moans.

rafe pulls away, snatching ur knees to spread your legs apart wide. eyeing you down, admiring the wet patch he’s created through ur panties. he lays on his stomach infront of you, giving ur thighs open mouth kisses.

“r-rafe, please..hmmpf” u whine. u don’t know if ur asking him to stop or if u want him to do more. ur so ashamed.

“please what, doll? use ur words cmon.” he teases ur swollen clit with his thumb, over the fabric of ur soaked panties.

when u don’t respond, his big hand slaps your pussy, causing you to let out a scream. “i said use ur fucking words” he raises his voice at you.

“p-please, eat me out,” u whimper when he rubs circles over ur clit, “need you.” that was enough to please him. so he tugs ur panties off, sliding them off ur legs and his tongue was licking a long stripe thru ur folds. “u taste so good, baby” he mumbles into you. without any warning, he inserts two fingers and thrusts mercilessly, now sucking ur puffy clit.

you let out a scream, or a moan, you didn’t know what it was but he makes you feel so so good. almost made you forget how he’s been breaking into your house and stalking you.

u tug to wrap your hands in his hair but remember ur wrists are tightly bound. he’s holding u down with one hand and fucking you with the other.

you feel yourself getting close, clenching around his fingers. u start to squirm, lifting your hips so he can get deeper but he detaches his mouth from ur clit and pulls out his drenched fingers.

“..why’d you stop?” you whimper, desperate for your release.

“youll cum when i say you can.” your eyes pleading with him but he shakes his head. “now your gonna take my cock like the filthy slut you are.” reaching for his belt nd yanking his jeans nd boxers off.

he starts teasing your folds with his cock, making you squirm even more. you know this is wrong. he’s insane. but you can’t help but enjoy his torment.

suddenly he roughly thrusts into you, without letting you adjust, pounding into you ruthlessly. the sounds of your skins clapping, his heavy grunts and your screams echo the room.

your legs unconsciously wrap around his waist. his hands grip onto your hips tightly, surely leaving bruises for you in the morning. “r-rafe, fuck, please sto-“ you screech when he goes in deeper. “fucking take it, quit complaining.” he yells before taking your tit in one hand, teasing your nipple inbetween his fingers.

he knew your body so well. you hated it. if this was anybody else you wouldn’t have been enjoying it like you are now. but it’s rafe. even when he was acting crazy in your relationship, he always made sure you knew how much he loved and cared for you. how he would do anything for you.

you can feel your release finally coming. you clench around his cock, silently begging he’ll let you cum. but to no avail, he pulls out. he unwraps your legs and sits over your chest. “open.” when you don’t comply he grabs your jaw and sticks his thumb into your mouth, “i said fucking open.” the second your lips start to part, he pushes his dick into your mouth, thrusting relentlessly making you gag around him. tears start to well in your eyes and when you try to pull your head away he latches his hand in your hair to stop you from moving. finally releasing you when you feel his cock twitch, followed by a hot flow of cum invading your throat.

he grabs onto your jaw again, giving you three light slaps to you cheek and spits in your mouth. “fucking swallow it,” hesitantly you do, opening your mouth back up and sticking out your tounge to show him.

he smirks, content with the sight in front of him. your hair disheveled, hot tears covering your cheeks and that look in your eyes, which you always had when you were around him. his sweet angel. he loved ruining you.

“rafey.. can i cum now, please? i’ve been a good girl.” you beg. the nickname making him flustered, which fortunately for him you don’t notice in the dark room.

“d’you think you deserve it?” he asks teasing to which you nod eagerly.

“please.” all your self respect and pride out the window now because you were so cockdrunk on ur psycho ex boyfriend you couldn’t think properly.

he shuffles back, spreading your legs apart again and moves his hand towards where you need him most. he begins toying with ur swollen clit before thrusting back into you. this time slower but just as deep.

you don’t hold back your moans, he makes you feel so good. but your cockdrunk haze interrupted when he started to speak again. “tell me you love me.” he groans, his eyes locking on yours. his thrusts hitting deeper, picking up the pace.

you were immediately taken aback. ofcourse you loved him, it’s rafe. but he’s crazy, god, he broke into your house and threatened you with a gun. he noticed your hesitation and starting rubbing your clit, almost sending you over the edge.

“y-yes, fuck, rafe i love you! hmmpf” you scream, your pussy clenching around him once again, his hand tightly gripping your throat. his thrusts brutal, pounding into you. you tug at the ropes bouncing your wrists when you feel pure bliss, your mind hazed and your pussy aching. his thrusts not stopping to ride out your high. you let out a loud, shaky moan/scream. the neighbours probably thought you were getting murdered. your orgasm leaves you limp, only ur legs shaking when he pulls out, yanking his boxers and pants back up.

what you’ve just done dawns over you. you’re so ashamed. you actually begged him to keep going. your tears reappear, trying to be as quiet as possible so rafe doesn’t notice and yell at you again. you wanted to kick him out, call the police and never see him again. the other part of you wanted him to hold you in his arms while you cry, and beg him never to leave your side. but right now, rafe decides for you.

he leans over to give you a sweet peck on the lips and reaches for your bound wrists. “are you gonna be good?” he whispers, eyes scanning your face for any lies. “i’ll be good, rafe. promise.” and you meant it, even tho you were choking back sobs of humiliation, you still meant it.

he untied the rope, your wrists aching and bruises already appearing. he leaves pecks all over the markings, which is his way of saying he’s sorry for hurting you. “i love you so much, y/n” he confesses, straightening back up to face you again. without even thinking, you lean forward, taking his jaw in your hands and you kiss him.

the kiss is beautiful, it wasn’t rushed or heated. it was slow and meaningful. when you finally pull away, you avoid his gaze. “i love you, rafey,” his eyes widen, he didn’t think you’d actually say it back. he knew you said it before, not because you meant it but because he basically forced you. but you did mean it. you never had stopped loving him, you were just tired of his lack of sanity.

he stands up and walks out of your room, leaving you on the bed alone without saying a word. a minute goes by, you felt so dirty and disgusting now. but before any worse thoughts could swarm your head, you hear footsteps heading towards your room. rafe is back, and hes holding a towel. oh, how you missed him.

he taps your thigh, signalling you to spread your legs and cleans up the mess you’d both made. discarding the towel, he crawls onto your bed and slides under the covers with you. “i’m really sorry, baby. i wasn’t trying to scare you. i just- i didn’t know what else to do.” his excuse was sloppy (and insane) but you still forgave him. you knew he was messed up, but so were you. in his head, he was just trying to show you how much he loved you, even tho to any normal person it’s a really creepy way to get someone back, you understood enough to let him hold you.

his arms wrapped around your waist, ur head snuggled in the warmth of his neck. “i know, rafe.. i’ll always love you.” you whispered before drifting to a heavy sleep in the comfort of his arms.

[eloquentlytired]

18+ NSFW. MDNI.

fisherman! logan howlett x older! reader

word count: a lot

warning(s): smut, build up to smut, logan is 30 while the reader is in her 40s ( u choose how much ), cheating, logan is smitten with his beloved customer, reader has a daughter, and logan calls the reader mama sometimes bc she is indeed the best mama, reader’s husband is a dckhead if it makes u feel better, mentions of neglect and shitty behavior ( from husband ), but logan makes everything better, I LOWKEY LOVED WRITING THIS

note: I haven't written for older!reader before but I hope I didn't disappoint you my beloved anon! In the meantime I hope everyone enjoys reading this one if YES pls interact it'd make me happy🩷🥰 thank you always for the support !!!

There's nothing that makes Logan happier than doing the work he likes. It's a blessing to have found a small area he's fond of and an even bigger blessing to help out customers. Or to help you specifically.

Logan sees you for the first time when he opens the fish shop — it's the first one to open after the old one has shut down. You greet him with the sweetest smile while your daughter holds your hand.

“Good morning.” You tell him so kindly and your smile turns out to be contagious because Logan returns it instantly.

You ask him about his life and how he's ended up in this place while Logan prepares your groceries. He tells you but purposely leaves some things out of the way. It isn't wise of him to talk about his mutant abilities either way, he wouldn't want to scare you.

He finishes your order purposely slow but you don't tell him off, you don't even reprimand him for it. You smile and wave him off — and your sweet daughter does too.

After that he sees you many times. If he was a fool he'd assume that your diet is mostly sea food but no — Logan has caught on. And you have caught on his stares in return.

“My husband likes this but I much prefer tuna. I'm not sure why.” You tell him as you scan the new products he's stuffed his shop with.

Logan nods.

“Tuna is the best in my opinion.” He says.

“You really think so?” The way your eyes sparkle when you ask him, happy to just share something common with another person.

Logan is an absolute loser— “I really think so.” —and he actually despises tuna.

It's raining heavily when you enter his shop one day, drenched from head to toe. You're shivering while your hands are filled with shopping bags, making your shoulders fall because of the weight. Logan rushes to you — he was about to close up but it doesn't matter anymore — and takes the bags from your hands, stacking them on the counter of his shop.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him softly and Logan can hear the regret in your tone. “I know I shouldn't have come so late. I was trying to stack up the fridge because of the incoming storm. And I've left my daughter in the house alone too, my husband wouldn't pick up the phone—” He's heard that one before from you surely. The bastard.

You stop talking when Logan is suddenly by your side, wrapping a blanket around your shivering body. Your eyes meet and Logan prays that he stays sane through it all. Promises he hasn't noticed the way your long dress has become one with your skin or how the little mascara you've worn has run down your cheeks. Yet you look flawless to him.

“Hey.” Logan calls your name softly and you wonder when it's the last time you've heard someone say it like that, in that loving tone.

Logan doesn't speak your name to order you around to do his laundry or his food. Or the dishes. Or the chores. Or the gardening. Or...

His palm is warm when it settles on your shoulder and it pulls you off your trance. He's kind with his touch and with his gaze — Logan always has been with you. “I’ve got you.” He mutters and you break down in his arms.

Moments later, he's dragged you into the back of the shop and you sit on top of a counter wearing his clothes, sweatpants and a sweater, which barely fit. Logan is big— really big.

“I look ridiculous.” You say with a small chuckle but Logan's eyes regard you differently as he cooks. For you.

“You look perfect.” He whispers and it makes you freeze a little, makes you question everything that the golden ring around your finger stands for.

He notices, of course he does, but he doesn't mention it. Hell, Logan doesn't even think he cares when your husband is the way he is.

“Tell you what.” He suddenly says breaking the long silence. His hands move swiftly as he finishes preparing a giant portion of tuna and rice. You watch as he places the food in tupperware, counting the little boxes. “This is big enough to feed three people and coincidentally—” Both of you smile at the last word. “— we are two. And your daughter is one more, isn't she?”

Your heart beats fast within your chest and your tears prickle your eyes. It's perfect. It's too good to be true.

“I would hate for this food to go to waste and I'm sure the two of you are starving.” You watch him as he uses one hand to hold the food bag and the other to carry your other six shopping bags.

You move forward, hands reaching out so you can help him but Logan tuts instead and uses his knee to keep you back.

“I dare you.” He grumbles playfully and you nearly shudder because of the way he says it.

“You should respect your elders, Logan.” You manage to say between heavy breaths but all Logan does is feel amused.

He grins, then takes a step closer and you momentarily lose air when he leans too close. “Careful, mama. I wouldn't want you to be late.”

You stare at him still processing his words as he walks away to start his car. The ring around your finger feels weightless.

The dinner is good and you can't register a time when both you and your daughter have laughed so hard before. Dinner is usually dull, especially with your husband around, but you didn't even miss the good old times anymore. They were always overshadowed by the bad ones.

You watch as Logan plays with your daughter and your heart secretly flutters. Yearns for a different life than the one you have right now.

But it's too late, you think, and Logan could still build a good life with someone his age. Why would you even destroy that when he's been so good to you?

But then Logan turns to you and begins to talk. I'll do the dishes, don't you dare move. Stop thinking so much, you'll hurt your pretty mind. What a lucky girl to have a mama like this one.

So that's why you can't let go.

Your daughter is fast asleep. Husband nowhere in sight. No answers, no nothing.

Logan watches you from where he's doing the dishes, sitting on the couch and looking outside. You've drawn the curtains open to watch the rain. It's worrisome weather but it somehow soothes you.

“You worried about him?” Logan suddenly asks, taking you by surprise.

“I should be but I..” You shake your head and leave it at that. Logan understands.

There's more silence but it's not uncomfortable. There's no such word when Logan is around you, taking care of you. He wraps it up with the dishes and heads over to your stereo, fidgeting with it to find a signal.

“It won't work, Lo. Leave it.” You tell him softly and the petname makes him want to drop dead. In a good way of course.

Logan doesn't listen — he searches and searches. Then he finds it and turns to you with a wide grin in his face as if expecting some sort of praise.

Instead, he walks to you while the unknown beat of jazz fills the living room and offers you his hand.

“I don't think we should..” Your voice trails off when Logan doesn't budge. He simply won't.

You take his hand as he pulls you to the center of the room and slides an arm around your waist being so carefully. You rest your hand on his shoulder while your other two intertwine.

He sways with you and you sway with him. There's rhythm, there's harmony. There's something there you haven't had for over a decade and although Logan could have anybody else in this world, he looks most content there. With you.

“There are many people out there for you.” You begin to say as he leans his head closer to yours.

He doesn't reply so you insist.

“People your age. As old as you are—” Logan spins you around and then presses his chest against your back. You're somehow all over him, moving against him.

Both of his hands move to your waist and Logan takes the courage to press his lips against the spot behind your ear.

“I hate tuna.” Logan mumbles, his voice raspy and filled with need. His next actions shock you as he slides one of his hands over yours and strokes over your wedding ring. Logan grips it, removes it and lifts it to your eye level. “But I hate this more.”

The moment he tosses it away, he turns you around and his eyes speak so many things. Need. Desperation. Love. Struggle.

“Wear it back and I'll leave. Don't—” He swallows nervously. “—and I'll make you happy, mama. I swear I will.” But you've never doubted that for a second.

You stare at the carpet, at that little golden band shimmering somewhere. Then back at Logan.

“I’ll hold you back. You'll get bored with me, of me. Having me and my daughter— you won't—”

Logan kisses you because he can't stand listening. But he also can't stand holding back anymore.

The surprise is momentary as you squeeze your arms around his shoulders, struggling to fit all of him into a hug. Logan surprises you more when he uses a single arm to pick you up by your hips, your legs instinctively locking around his waist.

“Lo—”

You're more desperate than he is and for so many different reasons. He carries you to the nearest efficient surface — the dining table — and sits you there carefully.

Your eyes lock for a moment as Logan steals another kiss from you. “You want the ring?” He asks and you almost laugh. Fuck the ring.

You're the one who initiates the next kiss, tilting your head to deepen the action. Your hands tremble with excitement, Logan's tremble because he's never touched such a beautiful woman before in his entire life. His woman.

He's quick with your his clothes although a little messy. You can feel his excitement but also his nerves shifting as he reaches for your bra next, struggling to take it off.

“Easy.” You whisper against his lips and Logan is surely dead, must be dreaming. The hook never comes off because Logan rips the front of your bra with his bare hands and disregards it like it's nothing.

You can feel yourself physically react, cunt clenching around nothing although you want it to be around him. Now.

He's right here, your arms wrapped around his head as Logan takes a bud into his mouth and sucks. You react by whimpering softly and Logan sucks harder as his hand occupies your other breast, fondling it within his fingers.

The attention on your chest makes you weak, you love it. You're sensitive, he murmurs before grazing your nipple with his teeth. “I need more.” You find the courage to tell him and Logan nods because so does he.

His fingers grip your panties and rip it too — he has no control over that. It's like a primal urge to do it.

“How long?” Logan asks as he rubs two fingers across your cunt, parting your lips teasingly before releasing them. Every motion offers a wet noise from you. It's embarrassing.

“I don't remember.” You answer and it's all he needs to know to confirm about the failure your husband is.

You watch Logan drop to his knees. His eyes are blown wide with lust and his mouth parts as if starving. You realize what he wants and that he's been craving this moment since forever. The thought alone makes you shiver.

“I have never—” done this, you want to tell him but Logan let's his youth take over his reactions.

His hands are strong around your thighs, they're secure and sure. He won't drop you and you fucking know it as he guides your lower half over his face and sits you down hard.

Your hands shoot up to cover your mouth.

Logan mouths against your pussy before parting your folds with his tongue, dragging it high and low. Your hips shake and he flexes his fingers around your thighs, squeezing every skin he can get.

He licks everywhere. All of you.

His face gets buried into your weeping pussy as his nose grinds against your clit and his tongue circles your entrance teasingly slow. There's too much coming out of you, you're like an endless stream, and Logan isn't afraid to taste every drop.

It becomes worse when he distances you from the table and your legs dangle off the floor. You stare wide eyed because your only means of support is Logan's hands on your hips oh — and his face which has basically turned into your personal seat.

“Logan wait—” You yelp but your voice is muffled by your hands.

Logan doesn't listen, doesn't even pull away to breathe. The man is starved and there's only one thing he wants to achieve — to eat you whole.

You've given up trying to reason with him especially when he eats you out this way. You move your hips fast and are desperate to reach your peak. Logan's fingers tighten around your thighs as he guides your thrusts, moaning while you ride his face.

You bite your lip as you throw your head back and arch your entire body, thighs shaking around Logan's head. He wiggles his tongue against your clit as you orgasm, the stimulation of your bud making your entire body quiver.

He's got you, hands steadier than ever and keeping you safe, as you come.

When he slowly pulls you off, you look down at him but the concern melts away. You stare at his face and faint beard covered by your slick. It's not embarrassing anymore — it's different. You can't have enough.

The door of your marital bedroom is shut and locked firmly. Whatever shame or guilt you might have felt at the start, it doesn't exist anymore.

Your legs dangle on Logan's shoulders as he pounds you, his cock rummaging through your tight walls and hitting spots you didn't even know existed. Not like this.

His balls are heavy again and full of the load he wants to fill you with. But it's been hours like this and he hasn't stopped — Logan is something else.

“You think you can fit one more for me? Let me fill you up?” His lips brush against your ear and you shiver. You nod, lips fallen wide for sometime now and blabbering incoherent words. Logan only catches the more leaving your lips.

His hands keep your legs risen and over his shoulders as he fucks you, his balls smacking against your skin with each pound. They're covered in cum too because of how many times Logan has filled you, some of it pouring out.

It's too much but at the same time not nearly enough.

Your hands twist the bedsheets beneath you and you look at him — silently pleading with him to swallow your noises. Logan knows and his lips find yours, silencing you just in time as he comes again and pours his seed into you for the last time.

His heels dig against the bed because it's so intense as you squeeze around him and use one of your hands to toy with your over sensitive clit, feeling it all. Taking everything in.

“Logan.” You moan against the kisses and he grunts softly, swallowing every sound and word. You come around his cock with a shuddering gasp again and Logan releases your legs to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into him.

Your hands move enough to grip his bare shoulders, scratching them.

“Ride it out. So good.” Logan pants while squeezing you by your waist, lying on his side and dragging you with him.

He guides your hip around him, letting his hand linger there as his cock softens within you.

“There she is.” Logan whispers, looking at you. Seeing you receiving pleasure is one thing but to witness your peaceful expression, looking so content and happy... How could Logan ever let go of that?

You grab a hold of the hand that caresses your thigh and bring it to your lips. Logan watches you as you kiss every space between and on top of his knuckles, eyes fluttering. Your gaze lingers and so does his.

“You know.” He states after a while, nose brushing against yours.

“I know.” You reply and his heart jumps a little; not knowing if it's good or bad that you've discovered his true nature. His mutant side.

You kiss him, slow and gentle.

“You’re beautiful.” Is the answer that slips out of your lips and Logan wants to take you all over again but he doesn't. It isn't his intention to break you in such little time — now is just the start.

His strong arms pull you close and he blindly reaches for something. A blanket. He covers you with it and when your eyes meet again, Logan nudges your nose with his.

“You’re so perfect.” He says, voice raspy per usual, and kisses your face. Your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. “Gonna fucking die for you. Kill too.”

Your heart fills with affection and love. Your worries and the demons keeping you away from him are long gone now — Logan is right there. He's chosen you like you've chosen him. There's only one thing left to do.

“You happen to have two spots open in your heart?” You ask him and Logan smiles — it's the widest smile you've ever seen from him.

He nods.

“Just two? We can make it more than that. If you want I'll make you a mama again right now—” He's blowing raspberries at your nape as you wiggle, supposedly trying to shake away from his grip. That hollow room is filled with laughter after years of dullness.

Like you've said.

There's only one thing left to do.

[withleeknow]

i think you'll do well with requests bc they seem to be popular in the fanfic side of tumblr! but even if it doesn't take off that quick, at least that'll be less overwhelming bc some ppl can be so demanding....anyways, i hope the best for you in this new journey haha 💝

me personally, i'm not very creative so i'll leave the details to the professionals (aka you) but i'd like to req something from minho's pov. i think those type of stories are SEVERELY lacking in the lee know fics department lol 🥲 it could be a childhood friends to lovers where he is pining for oc but he has a lot of self esteem issues and thinks she's not interested in him. also a big softie and just all around head over heels for her. you can add your magic! (if this is even remotely interesting enough to write lol i just want a minho pov tbh shsjjfjdjdj 😭)

light years.

summary: three times minho bites his tongue, and one time you don't let him.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, cursing, so much pining i could hurl. could this have been more edited? oh absolutely lmao but i actually don't hate it sooo this is what we're going with :p word count: 4.2k note: to the first anon, thank you so much for your kind words! :') and i'm sorry that this took me longer than expected. i was trying to figure out what i wanted to write for your prompt but then i got the second request with the song and i thought they would go nicely together hehehehe i hope the both of you enjoy thissss

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi

I'm not sure what it means to love But I blink kind of slow around you I'm not sure what it means to love But I'll grow wherever you do What that means, I don't have a clue

I'm Not Sure - Margeaux Beylier

One.

Minho is 18 years old, and he doesn't know what love is, doesn't really care for it at all.

While his friends are out there wrapped in the clutches of young love - the kind that blooms with stolen glances in classrooms and sticky notes passed in secrecy, Minho finds it simply unnecessary. He doesn't understand it whenever Hyunjin whines about not having a girlfriend because they're still young, they've got all the time in the world for romance later down the line. It's not the end of the world like Hyunjin laments it is.

Minho has his own life to prioritize. College is starting after the summer and he still needs to figure out how he's going to cope with the absence of his cats once he moves away. He's got dancing and he's got his other hobbies to keep him fulfilled and occupied.

And above all, he's got you.

You're getting ready for your sister's wedding when it happens for the first time. Or rather, when it doesn't happen.

You step back into the room where Minho is waiting for you on the sofa, his gaze resting idly on the screen of his phone, scrolling absentmindedly through his friends' group chat even though he has no interest in whatever they're talking about. You cough lightly to indicate your return after disappearing into the bathroom minutes prior to change into your dress. He looks up upon your soft announcement, and when his eyes settle on you, he swears it feels like an invisible force has collided with his chest and knocked all of the air from his lungs.

Throughout all his years of knowing you, inseparable from childhood until now, Minho has never seen you like this - all dolled up with your hair falling over your collarbones, cascading over your shoulders in soft waves that beckons him to run his fingers through. The light blue dress hugs you beautifully, the silky material catching the light from outside the window every time you shift on your feet under his steady gaze.

"So...?" you ask, moving your arms awkwardly behind your back like you're not sure what to do with them. "What do you think?"

What does he think?

Minho thinks you might just be the prettiest girl in the world. He thinks he must have been an idiot his whole life, to have spent most of his waking hours beside you and not once has he noticed how truly breathtaking you are. He thinks about the feeling that spreads in the pit of his stomach, sends warmth throughout his body and makes his heartbeat race a million miles an hours.

Your best friend blinks slowly as he savors the warmth that he's never experienced before. It's similar to the feeling you get when you're sitting under the shade of a big tree on a summer's day. It's comparable to the satisfied tranquility you get after you've just finished a hearty meal. A little hazy in your contentment.

It's not until you probe with a pointed Well? that Minho realizes he's been staring at you in silence for a few minutes now. He swallows thickly, willing away the words that he wants to say but they get lodged in his throat. He reckons it's weird to verbalize them, because it's not how the two of you function. You don't often utter that kind of sentiment out loud and he doesn't either. Never have and likely never will.

In the end, he bites his tongue. "You look presentable," is what he settles on.

You roll your eyes, then reward him with a laugh.

Minho doesn't care about love. He only cares about you.

Two.

Minho is 21 years old, and he's gotten used to his heart beating erratically whenever he's in your presence.

Three years flew by in the blink of an eye, and graduation is just around the corner. You've always done well in school, straight A student with a track record that most could only dream to have. You put in the hours, you do the work. You deserve everything that you've achieved.

But it's been a challenging few months for you both, being seniors and all. He's had to watch you struggle to stay on top of your classes while also having to slave over a thesis 24/7 until you were sure it was perfect. It reduced you to tears a few times, and Minho was there to hold your hand through it all.

He held you in his comforting embrace when you wanted to give up. He made you dinner when you were too immersed in your schoolwork to notice that you'd forgotten to eat. He was your biggest support system; if it weren't for him, you don't know if you would've made it through.

It's hot outside today, a little unbearable but not uncharacteristic for June. Minho waits in a familiar hallway, the same hall that he's walked past for hundreds of times over the past few years, the same hall that he won't see again once he holds a degree in his hands in only a few weeks' time.

As he sits on an old wooden bench, he bounces his leg as if he's one of the people in the classrooms that line the hall. He doesn't have to be on campus today, but here he is regardless because you're scheduled for your thesis defense this morning. You're in one of those rooms, probably also bouncing your leg from the overwhelming nerves. Minutes feel like hours; you went in there a while ago after he had sent you off with a pat on the head and an encouraging Godspeed.

He's nervous for you, but he's sure that you'll do great. Years of hard work accumulating in what must be the most important moment of your academic journey. You even stayed up all night last night, refusing to sleep a wink just to revise your arguments and talking points.

Minho's head snaps up instantly as he hears a door creak open, the sound of it reverberating throughout the empty hallway like a gong announcing your return from battle. It takes you a few seconds to step out of the room and into his line of sight. He can't see you very well with all this distance between you, but he can still make out the way your frame is visibly shaking with every step you take. He rises to his feet, and you break into a sprint.

He opens his arms wide - a hug of consolation or congratulations, he doesn't know yet - but he still can't seem to brace himself for the collision. You run straight into his embrace, your warms wounding around his middle tightly. Minho feels your tremors, hears your sniffles from where you're pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

"How did it go?" he asks gently.

You start crying then, and he doesn't know if the tears that his shirt is soaking up are those of joy or of grief, but he holds you through it anyway. He swears he can feel every single beat of your heart, hammering so wildly as you're pressed against him like you could sink into him if only you'd push just a little bit more.

"I passed," you say in between sobs. "I got an A."

Minho heaves out the breath that he's been holding ever since you entered that classroom, but it's not like he had any doubt about it to begin with. He hugs you tighter than he's ever had before, and he loves you just the same.

You two must look so dramatic, all wrapped up together in your own little bubble, but who the fuck cares? Although, when another student passes by and coughs, you do break away from him, a little embarrassed for a second.

Even with your hair all mussed up and your flushed cheeks stained with tears, he still thinks you look the same as you did when you were 18 at your sister's wedding. The prettiest girl in the world.

Minho wipes away the wetness on your face with his sleeves, then swipes with gentle thumbs at the moisture that's gathered along your lash lines.

"Holy fucking shit," you breathe out, your shoulders sagging with evident relief, so much more relaxed now that you've done it. "I can't believe it's finally over."

Your best friend can't entirely agree, because he's always believed in you. He's had faith in you since the beginning, since you were mere children laughing and crying together on the playground. You were meant to do great things, this was always crystal clear to Minho.

I love you, he thinks as he smooths a hand over your hair, his chest swelling with nothing but pride and fondness for you. You did so well.

But it's not what he ends up telling you. He swallows it down, washes it away with a dose of regret and longing. He's still not the type to express sappy sentiments, and he's grown accustomed to adoring you only in secret.

"Let's go," he says softly. "I'll buy you dinner."

Minho is still young, he's still got his whole life ahead of him, but he knows what love is now. He knows that it's you.

Three.

Minho is 24 years old, and he finds it hard to make peace with the fact that you're starting to get out there, that you're finally going on dates now that academics aren't taking up most of your time anymore.

To be fair, none of the guys you've seen have been graced with a second date, and Minho thanks his lucky stars whenever you return from a night out and text him a simple Not it. He knows that it wasn't your decision in the first place, that your mom and your sister have been setting you up on blind dates because they want to see you bring a boyfriend home.

You complain about it all the time, whining about how you're not interested but your family is adamant on it. Minho is well aware, and yet, there's a part of him that's a little shaken, because what if? What if the universe miscalculates and the stars misalign just enough in his misfortune for you to cross paths with someone who's absolutely perfect for you? Someone who's a good man that can give you what you've always deserved to have.

He really doesn't know what he would do if that happens. When it happens?

He doesn't know why you're here tonight either, sitting on a chair on the other side of his kitchen island in a pretty dress when you're supposed to be going on a date in half an hour. The guy apparently works for a big record label, some producer that your sister knows through a friend of a friend.

You look indifferent, kind of bored, as you watch Minho makes dinner for himself. "You seem miserable," he comments, taking a quick break from chopping vegetables to glance up at you. You do look a bit miserable, but you're still the most beautiful in his eyes.

You throw your head back and groan loudly, "Because I am. God, I don't know why they keep making me do this. These guys always give nothing."

"Please elaborate."

"They're all boring suits with tedious routines." you say, and as absentminded as your tone is, it sounds a little pointed to Minho's ears. "They don't make me laugh."

Do they not make you laugh, or do they not make you laugh more than I can?

"Then don't go," he snickers, though there's no humor in his voice at all. "These guys sound like duds. Just tell your sister to fuck off."

"Do you mean that? Do you really think I shouldn't go?"

And there's something in your gaze, something so suddenly expectant in the way you're looking at him that makes Minho wonder. If he says yes, would you listen? Would you stay here with him? Would you stay here for him?

I'm serious. Don't go. You can have this and I'll make myself ramyeon. Just be here with me.

You both stare at each other on either side of his kitchen island for an infinite stretch of time. He feels like your eyes are trying to tell him something that he can't decipher, as if they're sending him signals in a language that he never learned how to read.

For a second there, he indulges himself. He pretends that you're only asking because you want to hear him say it. That you want him to put up a fight and not let you go.

But he bites his tongue because it's become a bad habit. A habit that he can't shake because he simply doesn't have the courage to do so. Because if you stay here tonight, looking like that under the cozy lighting of his living room, he might just spill his secrets and he wouldn't be able to take it when reality comes crashing down and you end up telling him that you've never felt the same way.

"I'm kidding," he musters up the words, and tries to plaster on a smile for your sake, even though he's not sure if you really believe it. "You're dressed up anyway. Go and get a free fancy dinner, if anything."

Minho knows what love is, but his love has always lived in the shadows, his longing has only existed in the dark that it terrifies him just thinking about it meeting the light.

Four.

Minho is 26 years old, and he's been a coward for the better part of a decade.

Maybe he's loved you for even longer, but he has spent the past eight years head over heels in love with you, and not once has he done anything about it. Never been able to gather enough courage to ask you out, never even hinted at his feelings for you. He loves you from his place by your side and yet, you've never known.

He loves you the most, but he loves you in the worst way that a person can love another - he loves you in silence.

You're the prettiest girl in the world, and Lee Minho is a pathetic coward.

All these years, he's kept quiet and for what? There's always a spot reserved for him right next to you and yet, it feels like he can only watch you from the sidelines, far away from where it really matters, because he doesn't think he can fit into your life the way he truly wants. You taught him what love was, and love, to Minho, is unattainable. Something he can spend the rest of his life yearning for but won't ever have.

Love hurts. Sometimes, all love does is hurt.

"I would've taken you to a nice restaurant if you asked, you know," he says, putting a chocolate cupcake on the coffee table in front of you before he sits down next to you on the fluffy carpet of your living room. He pulls out a candle next, placing it right in the center of the sweet treat.

Your gaze follows his hand has he lights the candle, your eyes glinting with excitement as though you're a child again and your favorite day of the year is still your birthday. The tiny flame curves and bends, dancing to a rhythm that looks like only you can hear. You watch the candle like it's magic, while Minho just watches you, thinking the same thing.

He watches as you close your eyes and clasp your hands together for the theatrics, then you blow out the flame seconds later with a swift breath.

You turn to him with a smile, "I don't need a nice restaurant. This is perfect."

He blinks, and there's that warmth simmering in his belly again. He first felt it when he was 18, and he feels it now. He feels it almost every moment that he spends with you, and he reckons it's only reasonable, because you're his home personified and love can still be beautiful even when it hurts. There's his heart racing again, but that's nothing new to Minho.

He muses over your words. Perfect. Just one simple word is enough to get his hopes up in a way that it really shouldn't.

Your definition of a birthday well spent is in your cozy apartment, eating takeout pizza with your best friend. Perfect, to you, is him baking you a singular chocolate cupcake upon your request and being with him within these four walls, where his fingers occasionally brush yours when you sit next to each other.

Oh, Minho would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to.

He clears his throat lightly, breaking away from your gaze that's full of gratitude and childlike wonder. "What did you wish for?"

"I'm not gonna tell you. It won't come true then."

Wishes don't come true anyway, he thinks, but obviously he won't say it out loud to you, and on your birthday no less. Instead, he diverts his attention to the cupcake, subconsciously tonguing his cheek as he takes a small chunk of the sweet and offers it to you.

You let him feed you even though your eyes are narrowed. "What was that look?" you ask.

"What look?"

"You had a look."

"No, I didn't," Minho insists.

"Yes, you did. You wanted to say something, didn't you?"

He shrugs, popping a piece of cupcake into his own mouth. The answer is yes, he did want to say something, but if you want to get technical about it, then he's wanted to say something for years now. He asks you the same thing every birthday, What did you wish for?, and you would refuse to tell him every time.

"Wishes don't come true," he verbalizes it this time, with a voice that's lighthearted on purpose despite knowing that you wouldn't take it that seriously either way.

You roll your eyes. "Now you're just being pessimistic."

"What? I'm speaking from experience."

"You've never had a birthday wish come true?"

"My birthday wishes haven't come true since I was 18."

Minho feels your eyes on the side of his face, and when you remain quiet for a beat too long, he turns his attention back to you. "What?"

"How do you know they didn't come true?"

"Because..."

Because you've been my wish for almost a decade now. I didn't use to believe in wishes but I always believed in you. Every year, I wish for you to look at me the way I look at you, but it never comes true. Every year, I wish that you would love me back, not just as a friend, but you never do. You are my wish, but you're also the very reason why I know wishes don't come true.

Then he's laughing, but nothing is remotely funny about this. It's your birthday and suddenly all he can think about is how much it stings to be reminded that you're the only thing he'll ever wish for, and still, maybe this simple wish is absurd enough that the universe will never grant him what he truly wants.

"Never mind," he says. "This whole thing is silly."

There he goes, biting his tongue again. Coward.

"No, what were you going to say?"

"You're so bossy today," Minho pretends to complain.

"It's my birthday. Tell me," you press on, and suddenly he can't find any appreciation for your stubbornness that he's adored all his life. You keep your eyes fixed on him when all he wants to do is hide from you.

What is he supposed to say to you? What can he even say? That he's spent more than a third of his life hopelessly enamored with you? That the second he utters any of this out loud, he knows it will be the end of your friendship?

And Minho can't afford to lose you. Even if it hurts, he would rather let love hurt than live in the absence of you.

"Eat your cupcake," he says instead. "I'll get some ice cream."

He makes a move to get up, and the bad habit further cements its place in his subconscious. He's always running away from you when you're supposed to be the person he can be the most open with. This is how he knows he doesn't deserve you.

But you reach for his wrist and it makes him still, the feeling of your hand sliding downward to hold onto his fingers. He's used to the feeling of your smaller hand in his, used to how he can hear his heartbeat in his ears whenever you lace your fingers together.

What he isn't accustomed to, is the look on your face this very second, akin to the one you wore two years ago as you sat on the other side of his kitchen island, asking him if you should go.

Expectant and hopeful; you're holding something back too.

The words that slip from your lips are ones that he never imagined you would say to him.

"I've waited for you long enough."

His poor excuse of retrieving ice cream is all but forgotten as he stares at you, doe-eyed and despairingly confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

You take a breath, and Minho wonders if this is how he looked every time he wanted to say something only to back down in the end.

Then it all comes rushing out.

"For a while, I thought there might've been something between us, something more than just friendship. I don't know why I thought that, I just had a feeling. On the day of our graduation, I thought you would finally kiss me or at least say something, but you didn't. Whenever I went on dates, I wanted you to tell me not to go, that I was wasting my time with those guys that couldn't make me laugh because they weren't you. You never said anything, you never did anything. I waited every birthday just like I waited tonight. You're still holding it over me and I'm starting to wonder if you really love me too or if I imagined everything this whole time."

Your voice gets smaller toward the end, almost as if the uncertainty takes over you the longer he remains silent. He doesn't have the words for it, doesn't really have the mental capacity to process all of what you just professed. Years and years of longing, of hoping that you would come running into his arms the same way you did on the morning of your thesis defense, and it turns out that you were always the one waiting for him to reach you.

If you really love me too.

Your fingers start to loosen around his but Minho doesn't let you get away, not now and not ever again. Not when he finally knows that he's burnt up enough of your time just because he was too stuck in his head to see that you were holding a hand out for him all along.

He pulls you into his orbit and he likes to imagine that somewhere out there in the infinite universe, two stars collide when he kisses you for the first time, long overdue but still heavenly nonetheless.

He's crying but you don't seem to mind the tears. You're kissing him back and it's really all that matters. He can't think straight but he adores you to the point that his lungs ache.

"I love you," he mumbles against your lips. The sentiment comes out clumsy, half coherent but wholeheartedly sincere. "I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you."

You're the one who breaks the kiss first, with your hand on his chest gently pushing him away. Panic instantly shoots through him like a lightning strike. These are the words he's been holding back for years, did he not even say them right? Did he fuck things up yet again?

You brush the tears from his cheeks, your voice so impossibly soft when you ask, "Do you mean it?"

Minho splinters into a million pieces, of course he does.

Your name falls from his lips, sounding like a prayer, like the most tender plea that's ever been uttered, "I love you the most. I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've been yours for so long and I never said anything. Fuck, I-I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I-"

You bring his face to yours once more, shushing him with a kiss that makes him putty in your hands. You tell him that it's okay, and you kiss him like you forgive him. The world could be ending right now, and he doesn't think that either of you would even care very much.

Because you're the only wish of his life, and you kiss him as though you want to make up for the lost years. Because Minho feels like he's 18 again and you're the most beautiful girl in the world, wearing a smile that leaves him breathless in the most wonderful way possible.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 06.05.2024]

[almostempty]

What’s Love Got to Do with It

(oberyn x f!reader)  wc: 4.6k | other fics 

note: hey y’all it’s me ya gurl, here to defile another prompt with a silly idea <3 Sooo, from the three brain cells that brought you fuckboy!joel and divorced dad rock dilf!joel 🫡i now humbly present …. Frat bro Oberyn, Aka The Red Viper, aka the Prince of Pong, aka the Slut of Delta Psi (i did steal the frat name from the film Neighbors—in which they do sing a line from Creed in their frat chant, so in some twisted way, they’re kind of all connected right??) 

I fear this may have just been funny to me so feel free to skip, but thank you to everyone who tolerates my shenanigans <3. 

ANYWAY, The lovely @baronessvonglitter bestowed upon me Oberyn x What’s Love Got to Do with It for fucktober (happy belated bday babe) but naturally, i made it weird. Thanks to @sunshinehaze1 for reminding me that modern AUs exist when I got scared of the GOT universe and to @auterdelabre for reminding me that the answer is always fuckboy. Don’t blame them for anything else.

Summary: You attend a fraternity toga party, and you catch the eye of Delta Psi’s notorious Red Viper. He shows you how he got the nickname and then he shows you something else he’s known for. 

tags/warnings: explicit 18+ smut, alcohol/partying, gratuitous flirting, piv, fuckboy behavior aka on to the next one, infidelity, i couldn’t bring myself to write his dialogue in frat bro™ –aka i didn’t fully commit to the bit bc that man just had to be smooth and had to fuck no matter what universe i put him in, apologies if that ruins your immersion in my pwp, per usual: no y/n, f!reader is able bodied otherwise no specifics, unprotected piv as if it’s no biggie because it’s fiction (don’t do that irl), no beta/limited proofreading sorry for all mistakes 

“Oh my god, that’s him!” Your best friend shouts into your ear as you walk down the sidewalk. You blend into the sea of toga-clad college kids, sandals slapping against the pavement. Liv leans on you, pointing out the guy she’s talking about. You can hear the music pouring out into the street and people inside yelling and chanting over someone doing a keg stand or something equally as exciting and alcohol-related, you assume. 

The guy she pointed out is leaning casually against the banister, letting some ripped blond dude entertain him on the porch. “That’s the guy your roommate was talking about?” you question your friend. Liv agrees with a smile as you walk towards the front steps. 

Everyone else on the porch looks like a frat bro wrapped in a wrinkly bedsheet, but for some reason, he seems almost godlike. He’s luminous under the warm lights. As if he knew you were checking him out, he turns his head just as you walk past, and his eyes sweep over you, making your face hot. Something sparks between you before he turns away, taking a swig of his drink. 

Liv had given you a rundown on what to expect at your first Delta Psi party. You had argued that you knew what college parties were like. You transferred this quarter as a senior, and you just didn’t have Greek life at your other school or your best friend to convince you to go out. But now, you’re here, dressed up and entering a party that really does feel a little more intense than the ones back at your small-town university. 

Liv’s roommate had given you the rundown on the guys she knew in the fraternity, but you didn’t pay much attention to her descriptions. You figured there was no way a Brad, Dylan, Connor, or a Brent would actually be hot. And then, when she started with the ones with nicknames, you completely checked out after Viper and Rooster. It has to defy the laws of nature for a frat bro that goes by Rooster to be able to find your clit—even if he IS hot. 

Yet, now you realize you might be eating your words because you get it. You were too quick to judge, whoops. “Which one was that?” you ask in Liv’s ear as you both make your way through the people sloshing drinks and dancing. 

“Viper!” 

You can’t help the immediate grimace that emerges on your face. “That’s so douchey!” you shout back over the noise before she pulls you down a hall toward that kitchen. She leans in close to your ear, telling you that her roommate swears she got the best head of her life from him. “No fucking way,” you argue. 

“Way,” she smirks back. “He’s got a girlfriend now, though. They’re, like, totally in love, it’s all over social media.” She mocks puking at the idea, and you share a laugh.

You explore the party together. The house is huge; one room on the main floor is blasting EDM, and another is blasting top 40 hits. There are a couple of beer pong tables in the backyard and a detached garage filled with stoners on old couches giggling to themselves. You know that Liv is itching to park her ass on one of those sofas and find a girl or guy to whom she can woo with her French inhale and makeout with for the rest of the night. 

But, she’s a loyal ass bitch who wouldn’t abandon you. You circle back through the house. You spend a little while dancing together and taking your time to see if there’s anyone else who catches your eye. Nobody really sticks out to you in the first room until you catch his eyes again. You have to do a double-take as you circle your waist and roll your body against Liv. 

He’s semi-shrouded in the corner; with the dim lighting and the packed house, it would be easy to miss the two of them altogether. But when the girl clinging to him turns around to grind her ass against him, he locks eyes with you, and you swear that fucker winks at you before a group of girls prance into the room, shouting oh my god, it’s our song! You try to shake it off. You were definitely just seeing things with the lights. 

You signal to Liv, and she follows you into the other room. You dance together a bit longer. She offers you a swig from her rhinestone-encrusted flask, but you turn her down, staying sober tonight. You feel euphoric enough with the strobe lights and the thrumming bass from the EDM remixes blasting in the room. 

You turn down a few wasted white dudes who try to dance up on the two of you. Too drunk. Not your type. Too handsy. You’re not afraid to punch a man in the throat or the nuts if they don’t get the hint, but they back off when you give them a gentle shove and a shake of your head. The most recent suitor is turning and scoping for another girl to approach when you see him again. 

He’s moving towards you, looking right at you, but there’s no girl on his arm–or crotch, now. For some reason, it makes you feel too hot. You’re sweating from the dancing anyway, so you ignore the electric look in his eye that makes your clit twitch and grab Liv’s arm to make a dash for the backyard to get some fresh air. 

You debrief with each other and come to an agreement. You tell Liv to do her thing, urging her to head towards the couch with the skater dude wearing the toga made from a dinosaur patterned sheet and the high-top vans. She agrees to text you if she plans to relocate or wants to leave before you finish taking another lap around the party. 

You sort of lie to her, claiming someone inside caught your eye. They did, but you aren’t planning to do anything about it. Instead, you part ways and head back through the house, past the pledge posing as a bouncer at the front door, and onto the front porch. The music is still loud, but it’s quieter out front. People still trickle in and out of the party. You stare out at the night sky, searching for the moon. In your own little world, you’re basking in your own peace. 

“I haven’t seen you here before,” a rich, velvety voice washes over your shoulder. It should make you jerk away, give you goosebumps, and raise your hackles. But, instead, the interruption stirs liquid heat in your core and makes your nipples hard. Because it’s him. 

You turn your head and confirm. He’s so close to you. 

“You know every girl here?” you challenge him. 

“I know the ladies and gentlemen that pique my curiosity,” his voice is so smooth. He’s a charmer, for sure. He offers you a drink, holding out two plastic cups in one hand. The size of his hand does make you tingly, but his smile falters when you shoot him one of your signature dirty looks. 

Before he can ask about the look, you take one of the cups, give him a cloyingly sweet smile, and pour it out over the railing into the grass below. The tail of his brow quirks, and he gives you a sly smile that widens into a grin and a full-chested laugh. “Oops,” you mock. 

“You’re a bold woman,” he muses, “I like that.” 

He doesn’t back down after you toss out his drink. He doesn’t take it as a rejection. He understands when you explain you don’t take open drinks from strangers at a frat party, but you roll your eyes hard when he gloats about not needing tricks or drugs to find a lover. 

He banters with you as he downs the remaining drink. He’s quick, with sharp wit and a devious smile. You can’t keep your eyes off his exposed chest, his arms, his neck, his eyes. It’s still confusing how he can look so regal, whereas everyone else in the party looks a little…goofy? Cliche? He pulls you back to the present, asking for your name before he gives you his. 

“They call me ‘the Red Viper,’” he gives you a provocative grin like he knows exactly how hot he looks, even with a bedsheet draped over his shoulder. 

You play into his hand, “Is that some kinda of euphemism?” Feeding his ego with a suggestive arch of your brow. Maybe you’re bold, but you don’t think he’s the type to be deterred by a confident woman. In fact, it seems to make him glow even brighter.

His voice lowers, dripping with an enticing challenge, “Are you looking to find out?” he asks. 

His jaw quirks, and you’re mesmerized watching him suck at his lower lip. It looks so perfectly plump and kissable, curling into a smirk as his eyes gleam with mischief. “Come,” he beckons for you to follow him deeper into the party. 

“I thought you had a girlfriend,” you say stiffly, remembering what Liv had said as you walked in. He looks at you curiously before shaking his head lightly. 

“You mean Cora? From earlier? She’s not my girlfriend. We were just dancing.” 

“No,” you shake your head, “I heard it’s all over social media. That you’re loved up.” 

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” he gives you that cocky smile that absolutely shouldn’t work but somehow makes you feel warm like you’re laying on the warm sand on a beach listening to the waves crashing. You don’t say anything else, and he leans in a little closer, “What’s love got to do with it?” he asks huskily. Dangerously. 

It makes you shudder with something warm and twisted. 

“Now,” he guides you gently but firmly, “Come.” You need him to stop saying it like an order before you do. 

You let him walk you through the party. Weaving through the boisterous crowds. They part easily for him, clearing a path like he’s royalty. 

“They call me ‘the Red Viper’ because I’m lethal at any game involving a red Solo cup.” He murmurs it into your ear like it’s a sexy secret. 

You laugh brightly at that, giving him a gentle shove. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard!” 

He gives you a coy shrug. “It’s the truth.” He leads you into the backyard, towards the beer pong tables. “I’ll show you,” he says just for you to hear. The string lights illuminate the yard in soft light; however, the mood is anything but romantic, with the drunk cheering college kids taking their drinking games very seriously. 

You watch, amused, as one team high-fives each other over their trick shot. At another table, both teams heatedly argue about “house rules.” 

“It’s the prince of pong!” one of his fraternity brothers shouts across the lawn. He gives you the most dramatic I told you so glance, and you mouth “lame” back at him. He calls ‘next game,’ and as if he were their lord, one table immediately clears out, forfeiting in a demonstration of fealty. 

“Ladies first,” he offers once he’s set up all the cups to his liking. He’s so arrogant about it, and it shouldn’t turn you on, but it absolutely does. 

You grin across the table at him. “You’re on.” 

He’s merciful at first. You land a few cups, giving you enough confidence to talk shit and tease him. But it rapidly becomes apparent that he’s a man of his word as he easily picks off every cup on your end of the table with precision.  

Despite your rapid descent towards a loss, you eat up his charm. His magnetic energy. He makes the rest of the party disappear when he looks at you. It makes your heart tingle and your pussy flutter. He’s a gracious winner, only gloating a little as he reracks the table and offers it up to other party-goers. 

“Alright, Viper, you won. You can retain your title.” You admit defeat as he slinks up close to you, ushering you along to the side of the house, only a few steps away but more secluded from the rest of the party. 

“And now, will you allow me to claim my prize?” he asks in his smoky, deep voice. 

Despite his clear intentions, you feign confusion as he wraps one wide hand around your waist and tilts your chin towards his face with the other. “I didn’t know we were playing for stakes,” you smile brashly. Your skin blazes under his touch and his seductive gaze as his eyes drop to your mouth. 

He starts to dip towards you, but you swerve away from him. It’s on the tip of your tongue to ask again if he’s in a relationship. He growls softly, almost a purr, next to your ear. “What’s wrong, my lady?” he murmurs. The intimacy of it is heady, and your surroundings fade. 

You want to take whatever he’s offering, no questions, so instead you whisper, “Tell me your real name.”

He sighs softly before giving in and telling you his name. 

“Oberyn,” you repeat back, “that’s unique.” 

He starts muttering about how he’s an international student, but you’ve got all the info you needed. Now you don’t have to add a guy named Viper to your mental list of hookups. 

“I like it,” you cut him off before slotting your mouth against his and making up for ducking out of his last attempt at a kiss with your eagerness. He wraps his arm around you, and you’re transported. One large hand presses against your lower back, urging your hips toward his, and the other cradles your jaw, giving you a sense of stability as he matches your ferocity. 

You briefly wonder if you’d have melted if he wasn’t holding you so tightly before your thoughts are consumed by the sensation of his lips against yours and his tongue running along yours. It’s not a kiss you would’ve expected from a frat guy. It’s romantic and passionate, and you feel your body rolling against his, caught up in the sensation and intensity. 

You keep going, letting yourself enjoy the moment, eating up the flavor of him, the scent of him, and the throbbing intensifying between your legs. You slip one of your hands along the back of his neck into his soft hair, and he groans into your mouth. It makes your knees weak. 

You chase his mouth as he pulls back and looks into your heavy-lidded eyes. Sharing the hot air between you, it feels like a current is looping through your bodies, buzzing with need. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” he urges in a gravelly whisper. You can feel him hardening against you. His hand on your back is firm, keeping you flush, pelvis to pelvis, making you nearly dizzy. However, his hand on your jaw is gentle, brushing his thumb along your cheek sweetly. You still can’t help goading just a little. 

“What for?” you ask playfully. 

“To fuck.” 

It makes your cheeks hot. Maybe there should be red flags popping up in your mind, but you don’t care. He likes a bold woman, and you like a direct man. 

“Unless you’d rather do it in the grass here,” he tilts his head toward the ground. You act like you’re considering the option seriously, making him laugh before he releases you from his arms. “Don’t tease,” he says with a severe look, “It wouldn’t bother me.” 

Me either, you consider before deciding not to say that part aloud. You tell him to take you to a real bed, and he does. Swiftly guiding you into the house and up the stairs, past the pledge guarding the rooms, and into his bedroom. He spins around, pinning you against the door for another searing kiss. It’s more urgent this time. He’s quickly moving to your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your tender skin as you both greedily run your hands along each other’s bodies. 

Before you can get your hands under his toga, he’s detaching from you and sinking to his knees. He moves efficiently, bunching up your toga and asking you to hold it. Then he’s hovering his hot mouth over your mound before kissing you over your lacey panties. 

“Mmm,” he hums into you and traces the crease of your thighs with one hand, following the line until he’s softly running his fingers along the edge of your panties, the tips of his fingers barely dipping beneath the hem as he moves towards your core. You watch, staring down with your mouth parted as he holds your gaze. 

He teases you, running his fingertips along your seam over the soaked fabric, tapping and teasing at your swollen clit through the fabric as he watches your needy expression morph into frustration. You shift, spreading your legs wider, but he stops you with a large hand on each thigh. 

“Hold still,” he orders, and you feel compelled to listen. He pulls your underwear down and off of you, then hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading your cunt open. “That’s better.” 

You can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or to you. You don’t have a chance to ask before he’s burying his face into your soft, wet pussy. Your breath hitches at the sensation and one of your hands flies out to grab at the door frame to steady you, while the other one digs into Oberyn’s hair. 

He’s unbothered by your dramatics. Oberyn moves with enthusiasm, drawing his tongue along your slit and pressing into your sex with his jaw. His facial hair tickles at your tender skin deliciously and his nose grazes over your clit as if his face were molded to maximize your pleasure. He changes his strategy, mouthing at your clit and sweeping his tongue over it like he’s making out with it, with the same passion that he kissed you with outside and a moment ago. 

You can feel it starting to build. Your hip flexors straining and thighs starting to tremble as your breathing gets quicker and more shallow. Closer and closer and closer. He’s perceptive and diligent. Repeating the same tricks that make you moan and dig your fingers into his hair. 

You’re stuck on the precipice, so close but not quite there. Your eyes roam around the dimly lit room, the bed, the bookshelf, the tapestry pinned to the wall, the collection of cologne bottles lined up on the desk, the mirror on top of the desk–pointing right at the bed. 

It starts to frustrate you. Not the decor choices, but the tension and the building pressure. You squirm slightly, hoping the smallest adjustment will somehow bring everything into a sharper focus. You let your eyes close, letting the roar of the party downstairs fade, focusing on the pressure and warmth of Oberyn’s mouth. 

More, more, more. 

It’s all you can think as Oberyn stays dedicated to getting you off on his tongue. He sucks firmly at your clit before releasing you with a slick sound. He hovers, mouth fanning warm air over your core looking up at you. His eyes are lit with hunger.  

“More?” he asks in his deep, rich voice. 

You can’t tell if you were chanting out loud or if he’s somehow reading your mind. “Please,” you respond with a needy edge, “more.” You catch the sparkle in his eye and the flash of a grin. He works you up again, towards the brink, relishing in your responses as you whine with need as he resumes holding you in a purgatory of pleasure.

Mercifully, he does give you more. Oberyn grips your thigh with one hand, steadying you, while he swipes two fingers along the length of your pussy once, twice, coating them in your arousal before plunging them inside of you. The increased pressure and friction from his fingers pumping into you causes you to moan. It’s a lower register than your breathy panting from earlier, layered with satisfaction as you can feel the anticipation starting to crest. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg, “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t stop, groaning at your words, rumbling against you. That snaps the tension and you cry out his name and a string of curses as your orgasm hits. He doesn’t slow down when your cunt contracts around his fingers and he doesn’t lose focus when you shake and writhe against mouth. Not until you’re pulling him off of you, oversensitive and wrung out.  

Oberyn stands, wiping at his chin before pulling you in close for another breathtaking kiss. He walks you back toward the bed and you fall into it, pulling him with you. You tangle together, frantically, you want him inside of you now. He laughs softly against your hot neck, sensing your frustration. 

“Shh,” he murmurs as you huff with defeat. He moves deftly, braced over you with one arm, and freeing his cock with the other. Your hands stroke up and down his shoulders and back, and you hook one leg around his hip, encouraging him. “You want me to fuck you now?” he asks and you whisper a yes that turns into a gasp as he runs his tip through your soaked center. “And how do you want it?”

“Hard.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, sinking into you deeper and deeper, and pulling back, all the way out, then all the way in. “Fuck,” he says to himself as he sets a quick pace, slaming his hips into yours making the bedframe creak with every thrust. If the noise from the party didn’t drown everything else out, you might be embarrassed to have strangers over hear, but you would be surprised if anyone could hear a thing. And, even if you were louder than the party, you could care less about being caught as Oberyn fucks you into the mattress. 

“Harder,” you goad him, hoping for more. To your horror he pulls out of you completely, but you swiftly find yourself flipped onto your stomach as he lifts your hips and enters you from behind. You press back, meeting his thrusts, bouncing off of his hips until he presses his palm between your shoulder blades. He forces your chest into the mattress, holding you still so he can fuck you like he means it, with enough force that all you can do brace yourself and ball your fists, twisting the bedding between your fingers. 

With your cheek against the bed you can watch your reflection in the mirror. It’s hot, even with your togas draped and bunched up, you look good together. It makes you grin. He catches you looking and turns, meeting your eyes in the mirror before watching your bodies. He grips your hips firmly and you can barely keep your eyes open to watch as he continues. 

He overwhelms you with his stamina, keeping up a pace that has your mind feeling blissfully fuzzy. He says something else before folding over you and slipping his hand around towards your clit, determined to feel you come around his cock. You’re so close already, it’s only a moment, a few more thrusts, before shuddering beneath him. He tries to fuck you through it, but you clench and constrict around him so tightly that he pulls out while you’re still moaning. 

You can hear the slick wet sounds as he strokes himself, cursing under his breath again, before you feel the warmth as he comes across the swell of your ass and your fluttering cunt. You sink, dropping your hips and relaxing onto the bed while he catches his breath. Oberyn squeezes at your thighs, offering praise you don’t quite hear, then he’s slipping off the bed. He cleans you up with a towel, but you remain still for a little longer, enjoying the satisfaction and the sweet ache from the intensity. 

“Take your time,” he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder. It’s gentle. You murmur a thanks at him before breaking into an airy giggle. It makes your ribcage shake, bouncing slightly on the mattress, realizing that Liv is going to die when you tell her you can confirm her roommates story. Oberyn doesn’t question your reaction. 

He pauses to readjust his toga and his hair in the mirror. Once seemingly satisfied, he turns back towards you, watching you sit up. “I’ll see you out there,” he says with a smile before he slips out of the room. 

You linger for just a little. Allowing yourself the privacy to revel in the sweet satisfaction of the post-sex chemicals flowing through your body. You let yourself grin while you check your phone to see where Liv is at. 

You take another minute, using the mirror to fix your own appearance, aiming for a slightly less obvious version of I just got railed, before meeting your own eyes. For a sobering second you remember you didn’t get a real answer about if he has a girlfriend. He sure as fuck doesn’t act like it, you decide. You shake off the thought. 

He might be a frat bro, he might be a piece of shit, all you know for sure is that he is hot, a good kisser, and he knew how to make you come. Three things you didn’t think you’d find in one guy under this roof. You give yourself a final onceover before heading out of the room and down the stairs. 

You don’t see Oberyn in the first few rooms you pass. You keep looking; he couldn’t have gone far. You’re barely finished that thought when you spot him in the kitchen. The sight makes you stumble, shooting a hand out to the wall to catch your balance. 

He’s leaning casually, with his hip against the counter, as a starry-eyed girl looks up at him, giggling flirtatiously, as she lays a hand along his bicep. 

It’s in slow motion. The way he looks at her hand, the way his eyes trail along her arm, over the curve of her breasts, and down her legs before flitting back to her face with that same sinful smirk you just fell for. 

Your shoulders drop. It’s not like you were planning your wedding or that you even thought a date was on the table—but you didn’t think he’d be on to the next girl before you made it down the stairs. 

You start to recenter yourself, reaching to check your phone again before you look for Liv. 

He sees you before you can mind your business and plan your next move. Catching your eye through the doorway. Before you can formulate a reaction, you’re stuck, held in his gaze. He winks at you again, only this time there’s no question if you were making it up. He winked at you and despite everything, it makes your whole body tingle. 

“I saw that!” Liv shouts into your ear, wrapping an arm around you. “You have to tell me what the fuck that was about. But first can we please get pancakes or cheese fries?”

You don’t bother turning back for a second glance as you follow Liv toward the front door. 

You must understand though the touch of your hand

Makes my pulse react

That it's only the thrill of boy meeting girl

Opposites attract

It's physical

Only logical

You must try to ignore that it means more than that

Oh, oh, oh

What's love got to do, got to do with it?

…..

tags for babes, but no presh:

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy 

[vanilladove]

Helllooo, can i request Tecchou with someone hes known all his life, and that are kinda Childhood-friends to lovers? Just some fluff and maybe the Hunting dogs being like, „And how long have you been friends and together for?“ “Just 18 years, why?“ bc i think that would be so funny (also extra, can you make their dynamic kinda like black cat thats secretly a golden retriever(reader) x golden retriever(tecchou), if not, that okay [[: )

I hope you have a good day ♡

.ೃ｡+˚❝ just 18 years ❞

divider creds plum98

ೀ⋆｡˚pairing: tecchou x fem!reader

ೀ⋆｡˚genre: fluff, slightly suggestive oops

ೀ⋆｡˚content warnings: none! other than tecchou's horrendous food combos .__.

ೀ⋆｡˚word count: 1.6k

"A-Ah, Tecchou, don't dip your hamburger into your milkshake—!"

You pouted, stopping your boyfriend's hand from ruining his strawberry milkshake. The two of you had decided to go on a date at a vintage diner for his day off. Being a Hunting Dog was demanding, and he was often exhausted at the end of the day, so you tried to cherish every moment you could spend together. However, you could never truly relax with him.

The brunette frowned, his bangs shifting as he turned his head to peer up at you, "Why not? Sweet and salty go together, right? And it's good to combine foods that are the same colors. Ketchup and strawberry are bo—

You sighed, shoving a french fry dipped in your vanilla milkshake into Tecchou's mouth, cutting off his senseless rambling.

He looked surprised, but his eyes quickly lit up upon tasting the new, delicious food combination. "Oh, this is actually really good...Can I have another one?"

"Sure!" You nodded happily as you fed him another french fry, this time dipping it into his drink. At least it was more socially acceptable now. You watched as he ate the fries, quiet but focused on absorbing the flavor. Getting to treasure these sweet and wholesome moments with the strongest soldier in the Hunting Dogs was what made you fall for Tecchou in the first place, your love for him only growing stronger as you two grew up. "Seriously, though, Tecchou—sometimes I feel like your food taste is just pregnancy cravings..."

You continued to shovel dipped fries in his mouth as you recalled your past memories together, "Remember that one time that you tried to eat a slice of my birthday cake with dirt just because it was chocolate, and they were both brown?" You giggled as you pictured the scene again: you running over to find Tecchou after he'd gone off to your garden, him proudly showing you the "dirt sprinkles" and "moving gummy worms" he'd dug up from the ground to eat with his cake, your shock, and the equally shocked and amused looks on his parents' and the neighbors' faces when you told them the story. You titled your head, staring at your reflection on the bar table's metal countertop. "I don't even know how old we were when that happened. Just that it was when we were still neighbors."

Tecchou grinned, "It was your tenth birthday. I remember you were wearing that cream frilly dress with roses and got it dirty when you came to talk to me in the garden." He looked up and down your figure, noticing your cream and cherry-patterned halter midi dress, "'Kinda looks like what you have on right now. By the way, did I tell you how beautiful you look today?"

Rose dusted your cheeks as you pulled away, flustered and trying to keep your cool. "T-thanks." You looked back towards Tecchou and took in his outfit. Since it was his day off, he'd ditched the maroon uniform for an off-white, short-sleeve linen button-up and tan pants. His shirt was partially unbuttoned at the top, exposing his toned chest and arms and accentuating his layered, dark hair. "You look nice, too." You looked away, embarrassed for momentarily staring so hard, but you were sure the blush was still visible on your cheeks. You couldn't help it—even though you'd known Tecchou for so long and had already been dating for a few years, you felt like you'd never get over the butterflies and puppy love phase. It was probably due to his honest yet silly nature and the disastrous but endearing moments you always spent together. You still went on cute dates all the time—hiking (Tecchou would get you two lost in the woods sometimes...), picnics, and aquariums, so your relationship always felt wholesome and tender even through the hardships of Tecchou's work, just like a plum blossom.

Tecchou whined lowly, missing your touch by his face already. You were too lost in thought to notice the drops of milkshake flowing down your fingers, and Tecchou smiled cheekily. “Your hands are dripping.” He pointed at the one you were feeding him fries with.

You looked down, “Huh? Oh—“ you were about to grab a napkin from the dispenser until you felt your boyfriend firmly pull your hand back to his mouth and lick the sugary drink off your fingers. You yelped and tried to move back, startled by the sudden action. "T-Techhou, i-it's fine—"

"No," He said firmly, keeping his grip on you—there was no way you could break out of the toughest Hunting Dog's hold—"Just stay still." Complying, you blushed as he slowly ran his wet tongue over your sticky fingers, golden eyes intensely staring into your own.

"Mmm...you taste so sweet..." he grumbled into your skin—you secretly prayed he would stop before you started drawing attention as your heartbeat got faster.

"Tecchou—seriously, you're acting strange—!"

He pouted suddenly, lifting his head a bit, "You should be happy, y'know...When I get you pregnant, I'll eat all your weird pregnancy cravings with you."

You shivered at his words as he dipped back down to get the last bits of vanilla milkshake off your fingers, entire body now feeling hot. You were sure he didn't intend for it to come off so suggestive and probably thought it was a cute and innocent thing to say, but you were going crazy inside. Wait, doesn't that also mean he loves me enough to start a family togethe—

The door to the diner slammed open abruptly as three other customers came in, all in matching maroon attire.

"Hey! Tecchou's eating a human!" You recognized the high-pitched voice of Teruko, who was quickly followed by Jouno and Tachihara. The two ran in to see your questionable pose; Tachihara gaped in shock and Jouno looked disgusted, and the intrusion made you almost explode in embarrassment.

Tecchou, however, was completely unbothered, only muttering a "hello" as he looked at his unit who'd cut off his precious time with you.

You pulled your hand away, trying to introduce yourself "H-hi. You must be Tecchou's coworkers...I'm—"

Tachihara gasped, "Right, sorry, we must be interrupting your first date. Let's leave them in peace, guys!" He tried to leave before Teruko stopped him.

"No, Tachihara, we can't leave yet. This poor girl doesn't even know what she's gotten herself into...I mean, Tecchou's got some weird quirks and stuff, right?" Jouno sighed, already sick of the two and wanting to get away from the noisy diner. He could hear Tecchou's heartbeat get faster anxiously as the Hunting Dogs started to taunt you, suggesting that the brunette had strong feelings for you.

Tecchou's grip on you loosened like a sad puppy as Teruko's words hit him, making you notice, "N-no! You're both wrong!" You stammered, catching all four's attention. Tecchou's eyes were gazing into you again, curious as to what you'd say and how you felt about him since by nature you weren't a very expressive person. "This isn't our first date, and Tecchou's not weird!"

His eyes widened, and Teruko fell silent—slightly pissed off that you were challenging her but also shocked at how you were defending the same man who ate boiled eggs with the shells still on.

"He's kind and always makes me laugh, he's strong and protects me from danger, offers to carry and take care of me when I'm tired and sick, and he spends his free days with me even though he feels guilty about not being able to save others! I love him! I love him, and I always have ever since we were neighbors!" You pulled his arm close into your chest and tried to avert your eyes away from the patrons who had all started staring at you. Now, you and your boyfriend were both blushing. And he knew how you felt about him.

Teruko looked at you suspiciously; the Hunting Dogs were all close with each other and didn't disclose much about their pasts, so she wondered what your intentions were with Tecchou, since she didn't recall him ever mentioning you. "Neighbors, you say? And how long have you been friends together for?"

You and Tecchou looked at each other, both equally confused and dumbfounded by the fact that the Hunting Dogs didn't know you'd been dating. "Just 18 years, why?" You both said in unison, smiling and giggling at the coincidence.

Teruko recoiled in surprise, now feeling bad for being so intrusive. Trying to brush off her actions and be nonchalant, she turned her back to the two of you and grabbed the other two men, "Oh, sorry. Sorry for barging in then. We'll see you tomorrow, Tecchou." Jouno sighed again, unimpressed by his superior as Tachihara followed before turning around and smiling,

"Have fun, lovebirds!" You hugged Tecchou, feeling sheepish from the whole encounter and by your loud love confession, and he only hugged you back, strong arms enveloping you into his firm chest.

"Love you..." You mumbled weakly, feeling defeated but also relived to finally be alone together again. He laughed huskily as he planted a kiss on top of your head.

"I love you, too." You poked your head up from his chest to peck his soft lips, tasting a mixture of vanilla and strawberry. He closed his eyes, guiding the back of your head into the kiss more before pulling away and hugging you once more. "Hey, do you think you could feed me more fries? I'm hungry again."

You snickered cutely, nodding as you stayed in his arms a bit longer, thankful to have fallen in love with your childhood best friend.

[angelshadowsinger]

oh my fucking god your work is incredible! holy literal shit balls i have never felt that entranced by a fanfiction until reading yours. thank u thank u thank u your azriel is PERFECT.

also i’m totally gonna need your thoughts on azriel sharing with his shadows 👀

re: ummmmmmm call me parmesan bc u got me CHEESIN!?!?!! that is literally sO sweet of you to say, i am touched 🥺 as a fic author you always worry if you’re making the character OOC and, it just makes me so happy to hear your praise!! thank you so much anon~ ♥︎ This HC is a bit more than what you’ve asked for, but it does includes it, so pls enjoy!

Azriel’s Shadows Around his Mate Headcanons

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

In my eyes, Azriel’s shadows are a part of him. There hasn’t been much insight that Maas has given us with shadowsingers and their capabilities in general, but this is what I choose to believe~

Since Azriel’s shadows were perhaps the first of his powers, and the first entity to treat him with some kindness/obedience, I think he would be very in tune with them and he himself would consider them a part of him. He has had over 500 years to develop his relationship with them and therefore, I believe once he found his mate, his shadows would be just as captivated with her as he himself.

Obviously, Azriel is a total simp for his girl (but that’s another hc in its own), so that means his shadows are too. Honestly, it could be viewed as annoying how often at least a few of his shadows are constantly at your side. He’s used to having them totally loyal to him, so now that he has to share them with you… well, it’s not really actually that cumbersome, because he knows that even when you two are apart, he’ll be sure to know if you need him/his help. Though he has a couple less to send out on his spymaster business, technically, the ones with you are acting as his spies anyway. Just, with a far more interesting and important subject.

His shadows do a variety of things for you, making your everyday life easier and more pleasant. Just as their master, the shadows like to give you princess treatment.

For example, they go out of their way to help you with mundane things. If you’re making dinner and a tomato rolls off the cutting board, they’re pushing it back to you. When you’re putting on a dress, they’re helping you with the zip and clasp. If you’re writing something and your pen runs out of ink, somehow they’ve procured a new one that matches your exact preferences.

Both Az and his shadows notice the small things. They take notes of your likes and dislikes, what makes you giggle, cry, or provides you comfort.

At times when he’s away for a long while, and you’re missing him, they will deliver small gifts to you. A couple flowers tied with twine, native to the strange lands he’s currently working in. A special spice he knows you love to use in the foods you share with him. An especially-delicious pastry made with your favorite fruit/flavor. Though the shadows themselves do not find you gifts, they are happy to deliver whatever Az requests they send.

They also will take anything you wish to send him. Whether he’s in another country, or simply training at the House of Wind with his brothers, his shadows will deliver your every gift. Most of the time it’s little sweets or a lunch you’ve packed. Sometimes when you’re feeling cheekier, a receipt from the lingerie store informing him of your latest purchase. If you’re really feeling brazen, sometimes the panties themselves. His shadows are perhaps happiest to carry those items, either to get into contact with them or to see their master’s red cheeks as he shoves them out of his brothers’ view.

His shadows are your caretaker when he is not with you. When you’ve fallen asleep staying up for your mate’s return from yet another mission, his shadows will tuck you under your favorite blanket, taking off your reading glasses and ensuring your spot in the open book on your lap is not lost. Az nearly melts when he comes back to the sight, you dead asleep on the couch in front of the blazing hearth, his shadows perched dutifully there, guarding you.

However, they grow attached to you and even when he is with you, they will not leave you alone unless he commands them.

Azriel likes to take full advantage of his time alone with you. There is nothing he finds more comfort and pleasure in than being in your embrace. Sometimes that’s hard to do, though, when his shadows steal away your attention, or beat him to helping you with the zip of your dress.

It’s a very endearing sight to see him get jealous of his own shadows. He’d have a scowl on his face as he glared at them, silently ordering them to leave your side so he could have you all to himself. The shadows would melt onto the floor, gloomy in a way, whisper once more around your ankle before they go off to fulfill their master’s instruction.

Most of the time, you manage to guilt your mate into letting a few of them come back. And as soon as he calls them, they appear and shoot right for you. Az rolls his eyes but of course he understands. How could they not fall in love with you?

Azriel is actually very good with sharing. This usually applies to you when his shadows are involved, though sometimes he just needs to be alone with you. Whether it’s to have his way with you or just to snuggle up and bask in his mate’s presence. When he needs time like that, he will have his shadows guard your quarters and they will do so without question— fiercely protecting the only two beings they care for.

~spicy hc’s begin ;)~

Most of the time, Azriel will take the lead in pleasuring you— as he should, as your mate— but he’s likely to let his shadows watch or join his efforts if they play a supporting role.

For example, his favorite thing is to be between your legs, feasting on your sweet cunt and making sure you know you are his, while his shadows hold you down so you can’t move an inch. This way, you have to take the pleasure in the exact way he desires, unable to greedily chase your high or buck your hips or push him away.

Usually he plays with you for a while like this, teasing you and edging you a handful of times before he’s ruthless, unstopping even after you’ve come. He does cease his ravishing after you’ve come again, only to ensure he doesn’t overstimulate you before he’s had a chance to fuck you like you both want.

His shadows are happy to shackle you and render you helpless to his onslaught of pleasure; they love hearing your wanton cries and will dry away any tears of pleasure that escape with a cool, ghostly caress.

Speaking of their caress, one of his favorite uses for them is to soothe your skin when he’s done marking it up. Meaning, after every spank or particularly hard bite, the shadows will rove over the irritated flesh, kissing you with their cooling tendrils.

Since the shadows are slightly cold, sending them to curl around your nipples while he fucks you from behind is also another favorite. The temperature-play heightens everything— especially when they move down your curves to tease at your clit or your ass, depending on your preference…

Sometimes he lets them fuck you as part of your foreplay— usually while you’re sucking his cock. He just loves the surprise that flickers in your eyes when you’re choking on the length of him deep in your throat, how your lashes flutter when that familiar cool touch tickles your inner thighs and pushes your wet panties aside, how your moan feels vibrating around him when they thrust inside of you. He savors how your rhythm gets thrown, how you struggle to continue when his shadows are running over every sensitive crevice of your most intimate parts.

On rarer occasions, Azriel will let the shadows have their way with you. He’d sit back in a comfortable, wing-friendly armchair, darkened hazel eyes drinking in every movement before him— you with your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, the darkness holding your legs spread and fondling every inch of you— cupping your tender breasts, tweaking those pert, hard nipples… stroking your face, your hair, your hips and thighs… flowing over your puffy clit, slipping between your dripping folds and even wandering inside of you, perhaps just as deep as Azriel’s cock could reach. He would jerk his leaking shaft at the sight before him, lip held prisoner in his feral snarl. He wouldn’t be able to last very long, the sight before him too much for him to keep his composure.

When you’re both spent and panting for breath, the shadows will run up and down your moistened back, taking away the heat that lingers there and helping to lull you to sleep.

Only when you’re unconscious do they return to Azriel, curling around his shoulders in thanks. They know they are lucky to be the sole creature/presence with which he shares his mate, and any time spent with you is valued payment for the many services they provide their master with.

[cowboyjen68]

Hi!!

I just wanted to ask some advice from one butch to another.

I recently got my dream job of being a warden on a nature reserve (and i love it!), while interacting with people there I get called a young man very often (i am 18 lol) and it gives me euphoria to know im masculine enough to even pass as a man. I've also had some volunteers ask if I was a man or not (despite my feminine name).

But recently I got called a "lady" outside while out with my mother. It drove me INSANE I cried alot.

Don't get me wrong I do identify as a woman but I hate being seen as a lady.

I've even thought about using he/him pronouns recently and changing my name but i'm too scared to as most people won't understand bc im still a lesbian.

Is this strange?

ps love u and ur blog lots xx

This is an easy answer because I was 18 once and looked enough like a teenage boy that I got "hey sport" and "hey young man" all the time, especially when in my work clothes. I worked for The Mayor's Youth Corp in Iowa City in the summers of my 15th and 16th year. Mom and Dad let me get a work permit AND bought me a used Datsun Pickup so I could drive myself the 20 miles there and back each day.

I was a volunteer with the Corp of Engineers youth from 14 to 16 and Dad knew I was super excited about this job. Mom was not thrilled that I wanted to cut my hair but my "grand mullet" was really hot under the hard hat in the summer heat of Iowa. (in the 1980's boys and girls had the short in front long and permed in back look) We compromised and I cut the sides really short. (photo of my me at 16 in my uniform for reference)

Using "he" would never have occurred to me because "EWWW Boys". This is not to say, however, that I hated being mistaken for a boy, on the contrary, it felt good. When someone thought I was a young man it meant they treated me as such. They didn't talk down to me, I knew they assumed I was capable and willing to get dirty. I knew unconsiously that along with the mistaken identity came many perks. This was nothing I analyzed but little girls see very early on the difference in treatment they recieve from their brothers, male cousins and neighborhood boys. This difference leads us to become negotiators to control our circumstances and not entittled to treatment based on our skills and actual personalies.

When an adult recognized me as a boy, even for a second at first glance, I knew I didn't have to prove myself. They, for an instant, assigned to me words like "strong, capable, demanding etc". No negotations required.

When someone realized I was a girl they literally had a change in their face. They smiled at me, softened their voice. When I was called "young lady" or "Miss" it always seemed to be backed my the worst assumptions (in my mind anyway). Lady is steeped in all kinds of traits I didnt want assigned to me. "quiet, weak, likes to dress pretty"OR "motherly, submissive, meek" Nothing good in my teen brain, that is for sure. Lady felt so OLD, so married to a man and reliant on him for survival, so polyster pants and ugly flats and scratchy blouses with a flower imprint. NONE of these things are inherent to being a woman or even socially forced on us but that is not how things work sometimes. Words that describe people get stereotypes and myths and traits attached to them all the time. Woman and girl are no different.

I can tell you, the best feeling in the world when I was in that job was when my supervisor, who damn well knew I was a young woman, trusted me with all the same tasks as the boys. Who valued my opinions and abilities equally to the young men. He took time to teach me what I didn't know, just like with them and didn't assume I couldn't or didn't want to learn things on the job. He didn't shame ANYONE for not being strong enough or for getting tired or needing a break.

Don't let the assumptions of others force you into another box of conformity. You don't need a boys name or to use any pronouns you don't feel connected to just to please others. In fact, none of that effort will change perceptions of those around you. I can promise that one day being called Lady will just be another word that you can hear and know it does not change your personality or your interests or control the hope you have for your future. What does waste a lot of time and energy is trying to adjust things in your life to fit incorrect or snap assumptions about you as a person. You can never control the thoughts of those around you but what you can do is stop worrying about it and enjoy YOU.

You have a job you love and are sure to thrive in. You are solid in your sexuality and love of women, you are in a unique position to possibly change the perceptions of others when they think of "young women". Your interactions with the public are sure to effect the assumpions of at least some people when they think of young women and their roles in our society.

Congratulations on your new career and I bet you rock that uniform.

[leviismybby]

Riding time skip levi bc my man got THICC😩

Ughhh anon time skip mappa Levi makes me feel things.....

Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

Warning: NSFW 18+, minors dni, creampie ,we are hella thirsty for Levi in this one.

Levi didn't understand what was going on, all he knows is that you pulled him inside your office out of nowhere and that you are seated on top of him as your lips kiss at his neck.

With a groan, he grabs your hips rocking you back and forth on his lap. You moan against his neck as you suck on his skin, leaving your mark on him.

It's not a secret that you loved how Levi looked before but you didn't even try to hide the fact that you liked his new look way more. His thighs have gotten thick and he has gained weight, he looked better than ever.

"Fuck name." You start rocking your hips harder in his lap feeling his erection against you. "Somebody is hard." Pulling away from his neck, your arm sneaks down to his belt and you undo it without a problem.

"Woha easy there squad leader ." He says and you roll your eyes, running your hands up and down his thick thighs. "No. I want you now. Wanna ride you." Levi can't say that he is surprised at your eagerness, your eyes have been eating him up like candy recently.

You get up to take your pants off but before you can take your underwear off Levi pulls your body back onto his lap and harshly kisses you on the lips.

"Want to ride me hmm?" It's his turn to kiss and bite your neck. You start taking his blouse off, biting your lip when you see his upper body.

You have seen it so many times every time you're hypnotized by it. Fingers trace his abs and you slip your hand into his underwear, squeezing his hard cock.

Levi's hands take your panties off and he drops them on the floor. It wasn't smart to indulge in such activity in the middle of the day with the doors unlocked but neither you nor Levi care enough to do something about it.

Taking his cock out of his underwear, you pump him in your hand a few times before lining him up with your dripping entrance. "You're soaked baby."

He whispers, eyes locked on the view of his cock disappearing into your wet cunt. You moan his name and lock your hands around his neck as you start bouncing on him.

Levi hisses, his hands squeezing your ass as you ride him. "Fuck just like that." He pulls your shirt down enough to expose your breasts and his mouth latches onto your nipple.

You slow down a little, rolling your hips to feel him deeper. "Mhh fuck I love your cock Levi." He pulls away from your breasts and kisses you on the lips tongue first.

"I can see that. Dirty little thing fucking me while your squad trains." A whine comes out of your lips as Levi starts moving you faster again, feeling your walls clamp down on him.

"You look amazing c-captain. It's not my fault." Your hands are gripping his biceps, there is nothing you enjoy more than having Levi like this.

You'll cum very soon but it's not enough yet and it doesn't go unnoticed by Levi. His hands move from your ass to your waist and Levi sets a more passionate pace, the one that makes you feel him deep in your stomach.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Cursing you drop your head onto his shoulder, biting his skin and he moans your name feeling your pussy get tighter around him.

His cock twitches inside of you and it's enough for you to cum moaning his name loudly. "There we go princess. I'm close too."

You start moving your hips at a very fast pace making Levi dig his nails into the fabric of your shirt, his eyes shut and mouth parted.

It isn't long before you feel him fill you up with a moan of your name. You run your fingers through his messy hair as he opens his eyes to look at you.

"Got what you wanted?" You chuckle leaning in and pecking his lips. "Actually I'll need to leave some bites on those thighs of yours later. I have a squad to attend to now." He slaps your ass playfully and you get off of him, his cum dripping down your legs.

You both quickly dress up and you try your best to style your hair as it was. "See you later captain." Winking at Levi, you two part ways ignoring the fact that Armin stood in front of your office with a face redder than a tomato.

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

Taglist: @youre-ackermine @the-milk-anon @sixpennydame @svftackerman @luvjiro @notgoodforlife @levisbrat25 @ackermendick @levisgreyeyes @laraackerman @whynotsleepp @lovolee3 @noctemys @niki-sun

[guiltyasdave]

only bought this dress so you could take it off

series masterlist • this is part I

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: I was on my summer vacation last week, and I’m suffering from severe Dave York brainrot lately, which inspired a vivid daydream of Dave taking me on a little trip and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I was planning to keep it a oneshot, but there are so many more ideas for this floating around in my head, so a part 2 miiight be happening. Please read the warnings, this one’s nasty! (it’s the murder daddy energy)

word count: ~10.4k (this was supposed to be a nice little pwp, idk what happened) (Dave was holding me at gun-point)

summary: You have been sleeping with Dave York for a few months, keeping things casual, when he suggests to go on vacation together. You’re not sure what to expect, but you agree, and Dave takes very good care of you.

warnings: bits of angst, dubious morality (Dave is cheating on his wife), kinda unhealthy relationship dynamics, age-gap implied, alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, Dave pulls her hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, rough sex, semi-public touching, sir kink, degradation kink, rough oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv (reader is on bc in my head, but it’s not mentioned in the fic), dirty talk, Dave is a menace, spanking, choking, edging, spit kink, restraints, idiots in love, let me know if I missed any!

this is explicit 18+ content, minors do not interact pleaseeeee

Your phone starts buzzing on your work desk around 8 AM. You just got into the office and are starring at your monitor blankly, nursing a to-go cup of too expensive coffee and questioning your life choices. A regular Tuesday really.

You groan and flick your eyes down to your phone, your mind way too exhausted to deal with whoever is trying to contact you right now. You read the name on the screen and do a double take, your tiredness immediately forgotten. You hastily grab the device and press the green button to accept the call.

“Hey,” you say, trying your best not to sound just as eager as you suddenly feel. He doesn’t need to know the effect a simple call from him has on you.

“Good morning, sweetheart. What took you so long to answer, huh?” his voice sounds in your ear, calm and composed as always, but with a hint of teasing. You bite your lip, thankful that he can’t see how just hearing him speak has a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“S-sorry, just work and everything, you know?”

You can’t help the little sigh that you let out -work really has been a nightmare lately- and he chuckles sympathetically.

“You poor thing. Speaking of work, I actually have a favor to ask you.”

He knows fully well that he doesn’t need to ask you favors - you’d give him everything he wants, without question. His usual demanding tone is lacing his words and you involuntary clench your thighs together. God, you’re down so bad for this man.

This, as you need to keep reminding yourself, married man, who lives the perfect suburban life with his wife and their two kids. He’s not in love with you, you’re well aware of that, and you’re trying your hardest not to fall in love with him either.

You don’t know what exactly is going on between him and his wife and you don’t pry. He’s told you that things between them aren’t working out anymore and that they’ve agreed to stay together and play happy family until their girls are older. You’re not dumb, you know that this is the kind of story that every cheating man tells the other woman. And you’d probably call him out on his bullshit, if he were any other man. Hell, you wouldn’t have gotten involved with any other married man in the first place.

But Dave isn’t just any man and he’s got you wrapped around his finger ever since you met in a hotel bar a few months ago. You had just been stood up at said bar and Dave had been on a business trip, spending the night there. He came up to you, looking more handsome than any man should have the right to, bought you a drink and had you following him up to his room in the blink of an eye, which led to sex that was easily the best you had ever had.

Now, Dave calls you regularly, mostly when he’s close enough to meet up, but also some nights when he whispers filthy things into your ear until you come on your own fingers because he is too far away to put his hands on you.

You like to think that he cares about you, that you’re not just the willing means to an end and that you can actually give him something that he can’t get anywhere else. Something soft, a person that cares for him and gives him the chance to be soft as well. Because they exist, those moments of softness, in between tangled sheets and laughs shared in the darkness of your room, his fingers mindlessly dancing over your body when he thinks you’re already asleep and his lips pressed against yours a little too urgently when he’s saying goodbye to you.

But most of the time, Dave doesn’t like to care. He also doesn’t like to be soft. He’s ruthless, his edges sharp like a knife and he likes coming at you hard. He doesn’t tell you exactly what he does for a living, but you suspect that it’s dangerous and violent. He needs an outlet, somewhere he can let his aggressions run free, someone he can control.

This, you can definitely give him. You let him take it out on you when things get too much, you give up all control to him, and you love it. And he knows that you do. Sometimes you wonder if that’s the only reason he’s keeping you around, but you can’t bring yourself to believe it.

So, when your phone lights up with his name, you answer, trying to conceal your desperation to hear his voice, the hold he has on you, even if you’re fighting a losing battle. And when he’s asking for a favor, you hum questioningly, even though you already know that your answer will be “yes”.

“Take the next week off, and pack a bag. I’m having a few free days, so we’re going away for a bit, I’m picking you up on Saturday.”

He’s basically giving you an order, not stopping to ask if you’ve already got plans, if this might be a bad time, anything. Do this, be there, stat. Because he knows that you will do as he says and you know it, too.

Excitement bubbles up in you, the prospect of spending a whole week with Dave, something of a vacation, from what it sounds like, is more than you had ever allowed yourself to even daydream about. This is not what your relationship is about, it’s not what you do. Except that… apparently it is?

“I- okay, yes. That- that sounds great, Dave.” Your delight at his proposal is clear in your voice. “Where are we going? What do I need to pack? Do I need to prepare anything?”

He chuckles again and you can picture him shaking his head.

“No doll, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just bring your passport and pack for warm weather. And, sweetheart?” His voice drops an octave and he’s basically purring in your ear. “The sluttier, the better.”

He hangs up without waiting for your answer. You’re left to spend the rest of your workday in a daze, your panties soaked and your head busy with already cataloguing your entire closet and which things you’ll pack.

The days pass you by in weird chunks of time. On one hand, you can’t wait for Saturday, while on the other hand, you feel terribly unprepared, causing anxiety to creep up on you several times throughout the week. Every vacation you’ve ever been on has been meticulously organized and planned out by yourself and the lack of knowledge that you’re dealing with right now is entirely foreign to you.

What if you need a certain vaccine for wherever you’re going and you don’t have it? What if the flight has an early check-in that you need to take care of? Has Dave booked a hotel? How are the reviews? What do you need to prepare for?

The nervous urge to be ready for every kind of situation that you can’t satisfy right now is threatening to drive you crazy and you need to remind yourself more than once that this is Dave that you’re dealing with. Not one of your ex-boyfriends that would’ve come up with some half-assed plan that lacked in several vital points and required you to take care of things yourself eventually.

Dave is even more thorough than you, he doesn’t leave anything up to chance and he doesn’t forget things. You’re still reeling from the mere fact that he’s planning to take you away for a whole week. You’ve never spent that much uninterrupted time together and you honestly hadn’t thought that he would want to. This is couple stuff. And you’re not a couple. You’re just someone he sleeps with occasionally. You need to remember at least that.

You have texted him a few times, trying to get more information about the trip, but he hasn’t budged. You only manage to find out that he’ll come pick you up Saturday morning and that you’ll be gone for a whole week. And that you should pack a lot of bikinis.

“You make sure you’ll look good for me, and I’ll take care of the rest,” his text read. Followed up by a stern, “Stop worrying.”

You try taking his words to heart and get prepared in the one way you can: Buying lots of skimpy dresses and bikinis. You vividly picture him taking them off of you and it works. You do stop worrying.

Saturday finally rolls around and you’re ready, suitcase fully packed and dressed in a skirt so short that it will probably have you freezing your ass off on the airplane, but you can hardly bring yourself to care.

His taxi finally pulls up to your apartment building and he jumps out to meet you while the driver loads in your suitcase. You can’t help the giddy smile that’s on your face when Dave’s arms envelop you and your lips are on his before he even gets a greeting out. He chuckles as he kisses you softly, one of his hands cupping the back of your head, before he pulls away slightly to look at you. You’re breathless; the sight of him in his crisp shirt, the top two buttons undone to show off a sliver of his broad chest, his sharp jawline and those brown eyes trained firmly on you already enough to drive you a little crazy with need for him.

“Miss me that much, huh?” he murmurs against your lips, one hand still in your hair while the other one trails down to the hem of your skirt and skims the backside of your thighs before he gives your ass a rough squeeze. You nod quickly as a breath leaves you, not quite a moan but enough to clearly show him the effect his touch immediately has on you.

“Desperate little thing,” he grins and adds a playful slap to your backside before pecking your lips again and leading you towards the waiting car.

He slips in beside you, his hand immediately finding your thigh again and gently rubbing against the bare skin, creeping below your skirt’s hem again and again as you take off in the direction of the airport.

You’re falling into your familiar routine with him, the first effects of seeing him and the flare of your chemistry with each other calming down a little and allowing you to actually talk with him like a normal person, not a lovesick teenager. You’re filling each other in on the few weeks since you last saw each other, the little occurrences that you wanted to tell him about but didn’t have the opportunity to at the time. He’s not much of a texter and you understand that; he’s busy with his job and his family whose existence you still need to keep reminding yourself of.

His large hand doesn’t leave your thigh once throughout the drive, keeping a hold on you that feels especially possessive whenever his grip tightens. At the airport he grabs both of your suitcases and purposefully strides off, leaving you to walk beside him with nothing but your little purse. It’s not a grand gesture by any means, but still, no one has ever taken care of things for you like this and your want for him is bubbling inside of you.

He drops your baggage off at check-in and hands you your boarding pass. You can’t help the squeal that you let out when your eyes find the destination and you excitedly throw your arms around him.

“Are you serious? How did you know that I always wanted- But Dave, that’s SO much, I can’t have you pay for all this, I-“

He shushes you gently, though you can tell that he’s clearly pleased with how happy you are about where you’re going. He presses a kiss to the crown of your hand and rubs his hands over your shoulders.

“Of course you can. I wanted to do something nice for you, sweetheart, you’ve been so stressed out lately. And I-,” he trails off, looking almost a little bashful, “I wanted to spend my time off with you, without interruptions, you know.”

You think that he wants to add more, but he doesn’t, his expression slightly regretful like he accidentally said too much already. He barely verbalizes his feelings and you don’t push it.

“Thank you Dave, it’s- thank you. I really appreciate it.”

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him softly, trying to convey what you feel but can’t put into words. How you’re not even there yet and it’s already more than anyone has ever done for you. How ‘I wanted to spend my time off with you’ has butterflies erupting in your stomach, no matter how hard you try to suppress them. How it has you wondering if maybe, just maybe, you might be more for him than just the girl that he’s fucking on the side because his marriage is shitty. How much you wish that you were.

But you don’t have time to ponder all this because he possessively wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you off towards security control, then to the gate where he gets you your favorite Starbucks without even asking for your order, and onto the plane, where he lets you have the window seat and his hand finds its way back onto your thigh.

You brought a book to read on the flight but you can’t make it through one page without losing your focus. Dave’s hand keeps climbing higher and higher, alternating between gripping your inner thigh tightly and drawing featherlight circles on the soft skin, and the heat that had been smoldering within you since you first laid eyes on him today is slowly but steadily becoming too much to bear.

Dave seems annoyingly unaffected, his face as composed as ever as he asks questions about your book, and you know that he notices the way you’re squirming in your seat, and how much he’s enjoying the fact that he’s the one to make you act like this.

You’re in the middle of a sentence when his fingers suddenly move all the way up your thigh and brush lightly against the fabric of your underwear. It’s a barely-there touch, but you’re so wound up that it’s enough to cause you to interrupt yourself with a loud gasp. He retracts his hand the tiniest bit, still hovering between your thighs, and tuts at you.

There’s a dark glint in his eyes that hasn’t been there moments before. You know this look and it takes everything in you to not clench your thighs together in anticipation of what’s to come. He raises an eyebrow, the condescension written clear on his face and his voice a low rumble, quiet enough for only you to hear.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want everyone on here to know how much of a slut you are for me, now would we? Huh?”

He pinches the soft flesh on your inner thigh roughly when you don’t answer fast enough and you bite your lip, suppressing the whine that is threatening to come out of you.

“N-no…” you whisper and Dave arches his eyebrow even higher, looking at you expectantly. You gulp.

“No, sir.”

A small smile plays around his lips and he places a kiss on your cheek. “Good girl,” he mutters and his hand creeps up again until he’s rubbing against your panties, which you know are absolutely soaked by now. Your hips chase his touch and he chuckles darkly as he withdraws his fingers, completely this time, until he’s holding them up to your face. You can tell that the fingertips are shiny with the arousal that leaked through the fabric and you feel yourself blushing.

“Lick it off,” he demands, and your eyes widen.

“H-here?” you dare to ask. His gaze hardens.

“You wanna talk back to me?” His voice is calm, but you can sense the tension that’s rolling off of him. You should be disgusted, both by his request and the way that he’s talking to you, but you’re not. This is how you want him, how you crave him.

You shake your head hastily, acutely aware that questioning him was probably enough to get you into serious trouble later on. The thought sends another wave of desperate arousal through you.

“Then lick. It. Off. I’m not gonna tell you again.”

His tone is clipped, his face a hard mask, but your eyes flick down momentarily and the growing bulge in his pants tells you that he’s not as unaffected by the situation as he wants you to believe. You train your eyes back to his face and hold his gaze as you lean forward and obediently clean his fingers with tiny kitten licks. His jaw tenses as he finally draws his fingers back from your tongue and runs them across your cheek, smearing the traces of your spit there.

A small whine slips out of your throat as you feel fresh wetness flooding your panties and he grins before he kisses you again, murmuring a “Good girl” against your lips. He leans back into his seat, his hand finding an almost innocent position close to your knee.

“Why don’t you read a little more, sweetheart? We’ll be there soon.”

He flashes you a smile that could pass as genuine but you catch the glint in his eyes as he clocks your dazed expression and your slightly parted lips. You nod dumbly and pick the book back up, but not a single word that you read actively registers in your mind.

You try catching glances at Dave, until by the fourth time, he pinches your chin between his fingers and turns your head back forward. “I said, read,” he murmurs into your ear. You know he gets off on this stuff, giving you stupid little orders. And on the fact that you let him. That you get off on it, too.

Your arrival happens in a blur. Dave leads you off the plane and through the smallest airport you’ve ever been to. Your brain is still a bit muddled from the unsatisfied arousal he’s ignited in you and now you’re excitedly turning your head left and right, trying to get in as many impressions as you possibly can. You’re not paying close attention to what’s happening and you’re thankful for the way Dave is taking charge without question. You’re happy to link you fingers through his and let him lead you wherever you need to go.

He retrieves your luggage, walks you out of the airport and to a waiting car. You spend the drive staring out of the window, your eyes wide, taking in all the beauty around you. It’s like you’ve arrived in literal paradise. You tell Dave as much and he chuckles, lifting your hand up to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles. The unexpectedly sweet gesture has you blushing and a soft smile plays around his lips.

The hotel is, quite frankly, insane. If you had been worried about the amount of money that he’s spent on this trip before, it pales in comparison to how you’re feeling now. The building is nestled against the foot of a mountain, lush green trees surrounding the front and the road leading up to the entrance, while it opens up to a small, private bay where turquoise waves calmly roll up against the whitest sand you’ve ever seen.

There’s glass walls everywhere, giving you an almost 360° view as you step into the lobby. You know that you’re gaping and Dave actually laughs at your expression as he walks you up to the reception desk to check in. You’re not listening closely, too busy taking in your surroundings and convincing yourself that this is your real life and not some extremely realistic daydream that you’re having while sitting at your work desk.

Dave finishes up and wraps an arm around your shoulders to lead you to the elevators, stepping inside and pressing the top button. The doors slide closed and you can barely think about the fact that you’re apparently staying on the top floor before you’re being whirled around and end up with your front pressed against the elevator wall with Dave’s hands roughly shoving up your skirt until your ass is exposed to him.

Your surprised giggle morphs into a moan as his hand comes down hard to slap it, before gripping the flesh so roughly that it borders on painful. He presses his body up against yours and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as his other hand slides up to cup your breasts over your tank top.

“Dave- we can’t-,” you gasp just as the elevator comes to a halt and dings. He growls and flicks your skirt back down, but keeps you pressed against his side as the doors slide open again. Thankfully there’s no other people around on this floor to witness your surely utterly disheveled state.

The dark glint is back in his eyes as he drags you along to your room number. He stops in front of the door and turns you towards him, his eyes trained on your face as he stares you down. His voice is low, his tone calm and controlled, but somehow it’s more threatening than if he shouted at you.

“You think you get to tell me what we can and can’t do? You think that’s for you to decide?” His hand grabs your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks, and you whimper.

“N-no sir, I’m sorry, I just thought-“ He slaps your cheek, not hard enough for it to hurt, but enough to shut you up. Enough to remind you of your place in this dynamic. Your eyes flicker around hastily, your mind acutely aware of the fact that you’re in a public setting and that someone could walk in on this at any time. His hold returns your face, forcing you to look at him again.

“You don’t think, sweetheart. I decide and you listen, isn’t that right? If I want you to show off that slutty little ass of yours for everyone to see, then that’s what you’ll do.”

You nod to your best ability with his hand still grasping your face, mumbling another, “I’m sorry, sir.” You can barely think, the heat between your thighs almost making your legs buckle at this point. His thumb moves to play with your bottom lip and a cruel smirk grows on his face.

“You will be, doll. This is the third time you’ve disrespected me today. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” You can’t help the way you subconsciously bite your lip and you know that your desire is written all over your face, your pupils probably blown wide and your cheeks hot.

“Christ,” he chuckles and seals your lips with another kiss, “you’re a fucked up little thing.” You can only nod, prompting another laugh from him.

He steps up beside you and digs a keycard out of his pocket, holding it up against the door that responds with an affirmative beeping sound and a lock clicking. He pushes the handle down and swings the door open, holding it for you, a hand on the small of your back as you tentatively take a few steps inside.

The gasp you let out now isn’t fueled by your arousal, which is momentarily forgotten, but by your utter inability to believe what you’re seeing. You’re standing in a small hallway which opens up into a gigantic living room that’s probably bigger than your entire apartment and completely lined with glass walls, revealing a balcony and the shimmering sea several floors below you. You slowly walk to the adjoining bedroom that houses the easily biggest bed you’ve ever seen and a continuation of the glass walls. From what you can see, the en-suite bathroom features a lot of white marble.

You turn back to Dave, who has followed you silently and seems to expectantly take in your every reaction. “You’re crazy,” you tell him and he grins as you struggle for words. “This is- it’s so expensive, it’s- it’s too much, really. You’re crazy,” you repeat and he walks up to you to take your hands. His thumbs rub little circles over the skin and he smiles softly.

“As I said, I wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve it, sweetheart, you do.”

“But- but it’s-,” you trail off, mortified to realize that your bottom lip is trembling and your eyes are getting wet. You’re not going to cry in front of Dave, not because of a stupid hotel room. More like a fucking suite, your brain unhelpfully provides and your lip trembles harder. Dave quickly wraps his arms around your shoulders, his eyes searching your face.

“But it’s what?” he implores, his features displaying a look of such genuine concern that you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen on him before. “Sweetheart, do you not like it?”

You shake your head, trying to think of some way to explain that doesn’t make you seem totally pathetic. “It’s-,” you draw a deep breath, “it’s just- this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Like, ever. I just can’t believe you would- for me…” You trail off, not sure how to explain that you can’t grasp why he would be willing to spend this amount of money on you. “What I mean to say is, it’s beautiful. Just- thank you. Really, thank you.”

You smile at him and the relief is incredibly evident on his face before he pulls you into a hug, his arms engulfing you, one hand stroking you head softly. For once, his hands don’t wander down your body, he just holds you tight and you allow yourself to think that you could get used to this.

You feel awkward after your little breakdown, but Dave doesn’t mention it again. He lets you traipse around the suite to explore and unpack and follows you when you step out onto the balcony where you inhale deeply, enjoying the salty air and the view down to the bay. You think that it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life and you flash a beaming smile at him.

“You like it?” he checks again and you nod eagerly. “Good,” he mumbles and steps up behind where you’re leaning against the railing, one of his arms finding its way around your middle and his head resting on your shoulder. “That’s good.”

You stay like that a little while, taking in the scenery in front of you in peaceful silence, listening to the sound of the waves that roll against the shore and watching as the sun is sinking lower, a soft golden light spreading out across the sky and reflecting in the water.

Eventually, one of his hands slowly starts gliding up your torso. He cups your breast and his fingers graze your quickly pebbling nipple. You moan quietly and instinctually push your hips back against his crotch and the growing hardness there, which causes him to chuckle as he bends down to run his lips over your neck, leaving small kisses and bites on the sensitive flesh.

You’ve been riled up and let back down so many times today that you feel a bit crazed at this point, the need for him between your legs downright painful as you grind your hips against him and another desperate moan escapes you. “Dave, please… I need you.” Your head falls back against his chest and his other arm loops around your middle, pressing you against him as he tuts softly.

“So needy that you’re forgetting all your manners, huh?”

He pinches your nipple, hard, before his hand sneaks higher and loosely wraps around your throat. The anticipation of what is -hopefully- finally about to happen has you feeling lightheaded. You don’t care that you’re outside, that anyone could look up and easily spot you on the balcony, you would let him fuck you right there, as long as he just finally fucks you at all. You haven’t given him an answer and the hold around you throat tightens. Not enough for any real pressure, but enough to remind you of the power he holds over you.

“Please, sir,” you whine and he chuckles again.

“Not yet, doll,” he whispers into your ear and his hand leaves your throat, then he turns you around until you’re face to face. You can see that he wants you too, it’s written on his features clear as day, and you can barely fathom his level of self-restraint right now. You open your mouth, ready to beg again, ready to beg for anything to relieve the throbbing pain between your thighs, but he shakes his head curtly and even in your lust-filled haze, you know better than to keep going and shut your mouth again.

He grins at your obedience and gives your lips a quick kiss. “Good girl. You’ll get everything you want soon enough, don’t worry. Just gotta be patient a little more, okay?” You nod, and dazedly let him take your hand and lead you back into the bedroom. “But first, we’re gonna have a nice dinner. Think you’re gonna need the energy, doll.” His grin turns downright feral and a small shudder runs through you. “Show me what pretty things you packed, yeah?”

You hum your agreement and turn to rummage through the closet, pick out a dress and fresh underwear and wander off into the bathroom. You half-expect him to stop you and make you change in front of him, but he doesn’t say a word. Maybe seeing you naked would be even too much for his restraint right now.

You change into the dress; it’s one of the new ones that you bought only last week while daydreaming about how Dave would take it off of you. It’s a short silk dress, dark red and with an open back that basically only consists of a several straps that form a loose pattern over your skin, which is why you forego a bra and only pull on a black thong, a lacy, barely there scrap of fabric. You also redo your makeup, adding a lipstick in a shade that matches the dress and freshen up your hair, then step out into the bedroom again.

Dave is still wearing the black slacks that he wore all day, but seems to have changed into a new, creamy white dress shirt, while you were busy in the bathroom. The top three buttons are open, which is one more than usual, exposing more of his broad chest than you’re used to and you know that you’re wearing an expression of awe on your face. He’s so beautiful. He always is, he’s stupidly attractive, really, but it’s hitting you especially hard right now, in these new surroundings and with the prospect of having him all to yourself for one whole week.

He’s eyeing you as well, his gaze roaming hungrily over your body. You become acutely aware of just how short the dress is, how much of your naked skin is on display. You like your body, and you’re not ashamed of showing it off, but this place is fancy. You know you look good, but suddenly, you feel a bit awkward. “Is- is this okay? Because, I-,” you stammer a little, “I didn’t expect this kind of hotel and you said- you said you wanted slutty, so…” You trail off, biting you lip nervously.

Dave’s gaze softens. It’s giving you whiplash, how quickly he switches between the domineering, controlled, sexually charged persona that he’s displaying around you most of the time, and this sweeter, caring side. The side that wants to do something nice for you. He takes a step towards you.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart.”

You do, giving him a little twirl before turning back around and meeting his gaze. He looks… you don’t know how to describe it. The hunger for you that you’re familiar with is there, but it’s also something else, something… more. “You look perfect,” he assures you and you can’t help but believe him. Then he continues, “take off your underwear.” You blink at him and he cocks an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want any panty lines when you’re looking so gorgeous with that pretty dress.”

You know fully well that the tiny thong that you’re wearing isn’t leaving any panty lines, but you also know better than to argue. The thought of having nothing to protect your modesty under the very short hem of your dress makes you feel exposed, a little uneasy, which is probably exactly what he wants. Always testing your limits, always looking to see how far he can push you, how far you’d go to please him.

You slide your thong off and make to toss it in the direction of your suitcase, but he clicks his tongue and holds his hand out towards you. You put it into his waiting hand and he stuffs it into the pocket of his pants. You suppose that he’s planning something and that you’ll get to know about it when he wants you to, which isn’t now, so you keep your mouth shut and step closer to him. “Dinner?” you ask softly and lean on your tiptoes to kiss him. He returns the kiss, his tongue entering your mouth swiftly, giving you a taste of how much he wants you, before he pulls back and grabs your hand instead, leading you out of the suite and back to the elevator.

It’s just the two of you when you get on, but two floors down, you’re being joined by an elderly couple who you greet politely. As soon as their backs are turned to you, Dave’s hand is under your dress, running a finger through your slick folds. You manage to swallow your surprised gasp, but flinch slightly, and you see him smirk out of the corner of your eye. He slides his finger up and down your slit, brushing your already oversensitive clit a few times, and you bite down hard on your lip to keep the sounds inside that threaten to spill out of you.

When the elevator finally stops, he withdraws his hand and waits until the couple is a few steps away from you, until he leans down to whisper in your ear, “Good girl, learned your lesson I see. Now, what do you say?”

“Thank you, sir,” you breathe, your legs a bit wobbly and your arousal already leaking out of you.

“That’s right.” He pats your ass in a sort of condescending appreciation and you follow him into the dining area.

The hotel’s restaurant is located on the first floor, a beautiful, light-filled space that opens onto a big terrace which seems to float over the ocean and gives you a gorgeous view of the sunset’s colors that have become even more intense since you left your room. You’re being led to a small table for two and you gape at the view, causing Dave to laugh at you again, but it’s a warm laugh, that feels like he’s genuinely happy about how much you’re enjoying yourself.

You try reading through the menu, but you know maybe half of the things that are on there, much less how anything tastes or what you would prefer. You shoot Dave a sort of helpless look and he grins. “Want me to order for you?” he asks and you nod gratefully, trying not to feel embarrassed about how out of your depth you are. He orders something, along with a bottle of red wine, which you very much appreciate. You don’t know much about wine, but this one tastes really good. It turns out that he ordered some kind of fish for you, that you still have no idea how to pronounce right, but now you know that it’s freaking delicious. You tell Dave as much and he gives you another smile that seems much too soft and overwhelmingly right at the same time.

Dinner with him is much easier than you had anticipated. Apart from your excitement about the whole trip, you had been a little nervous about spending an entire week with him, having to make much more conversation than you usually do. It’s not that you never talk, but sooner or later, you end up naked with him whispering filth into your ear. You don’t go out on hour long dates, maybe a drink at a bar, but no big dinners and extensive talks. Until now.

Now you know that he’s a great listener, making you feel heard and understood, never once giving you the impression that you’re boring him. You also learn more about him, about his past, though he stays vague about his current job and the situation with his family. But it’s nice, being with him like this. Another thing that you could get used to, but that’s also another thought to shove into some far away corner of your mind. Be thankful for what it is, don’t become greedy for more, you tell yourself.

After two glasses of wine and a dessert that you could have died for, watching the sun set over the ocean until the night sky took over, you’re buzzing with happiness, but also excitement for the next part of the evening. The whole dinner was better than you could have imagined, but you have also been turned on for hours, with the man that you want right in front of you. When Dave finally stands up and pulls your chair out for you, you all but jump up and flit to his side. He chuckles and looks at your eager face. “Don’t get too excited, sweetheart. Tonight isn’t gonna be all that fun for you.”

The dark glint in his eyes is back and you’re subconsciously clenching your thighs together. The simple thought of what he might do to you is enough to push the arousal that has been simmering inside of you to the forefront of your mind again. You’re amazed how quickly he can sink back into that domineering character that could make you do almost anything with a simple snap of his fingers. He wasn’t like that at dinner, he didn’t once give you the impression that you’re below him or that he doesn’t respect you, separating this sexual dynamic that you’ve established from other parts of your interactions with clean precision.

He leads you out of the restaurant, his fingers grazing the bare skin on your back and you’re once again reminded that you’re completely bare beneath the skimpy dress that you’re wearing. His hand dips lower, playing with the hem that feels like it’s barely covering your ass. Goosebumps are forming on you lower back and your thighs and he chuckles darkly.

He keeps playing with your dress during the elevator ride, his fingers sliding underneath and grazing your ass repeatedly, until you’re fully riled up again. You’re a little nervous now. He promised to be rough several times today and you don’t doubt that he will. You’re excited as well, you want him rough, crave his control over you, but still…

He takes out the key card and opens the door as you follow him quietly, waiting for instructions. You can feel the tension rolling off of him. As soon as the door clicks shut, he’s on you, crowding you back against it, his hands grabbing your wrists and pulling them up above your head while he leans down to capture your waiting lips.

The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongues as he devours your mouth, towering over you and keeping your wrists fixed to the door while his whole body is pressing into yours. You arch into him, helplessly trying to get him closer as you moan into his mouth when he bites at your lower lip, keeping it in between his teeth as he pulls back a little before letting it go. You whine, the quick stab of pain transforming into pleasure and traveling straight to your pussy, which causes you to spread your legs wider and grind your hips against him.

He gathers both your wrists in his large hand, still pressing them against the wall above your head, and lets his other hand roam over your body, grabbing at your waist, bunching up the dress there. “Looked so good tonight, all dolled up in your pretty dress…” he murmurs with his lips now dragging against the soft skin of your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking at the skin, “and all this just for me, sweetheart?” He bites down right below your ear and your hips buck against him.

“Yes, yes sir, fuck…”

Your breath catches in your throat when he abruptly pulls the neckline down to expose your breasts and scratches his fingernails over your nipples. He pinches one hardened bud between his nails and pulls slightly before he lets go and watches how the flesh bounces back, then he repeats the motion on the other side. You’re gasping, tears are welling up in your eyes, it hurts, but it hurts so good, your pussy is completely soaked and you just want him to finally, finally fill you up.

Then he steps back, his jaw flickers as he watches you, still pressed against the door, panting softly and with a dazed expression on your face.

“Get on your knees.”

You get down immediately, hoping against hope that maybe he’ll let you come sooner when you’re being good now. He allows himself a cold smile at your eagerness and steps closer until you have to crane your neck to look up at him. He opens his belt and slacks in sure, controlled movements, the only evidence of his own need for you being the massive bulge that’s right in front of your face. He doesn’t waste time, shoving his pants and underwear down in one move and letting his cock spring free.

You gasp quietly, your mouth opening on its own accord at the sight of his massive length and you look up at him hungrily. “Open wide,” he tells you softly, almost gently and you obey, sticking your tongue out and watching mesmerized as he lets his tip rest on your tongue for a few moments. He pulls back slightly, smearing a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum across your cheeks, then slapping you with his cock, which causes you to moan. “Filthy little thing,” he murmurs and sinks into your wet mouth in one hard thrust.

You gag almost immediately, your throat contracting around him and he groans as he grabs your head and holds you still. Tears well up in your eyes and you already feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. He finally lets go and you desperately suck in a lungful of air before he starts thrusting into your mouth again, hitting the back of your throat every time and causing you to choke around him. The way he pushes you around, uses you for his own pleasure has a new rush of wetness flooding your pussy and you’re itching to touch your clit, just a little bit.

He notices how you’re squirming beneath him, how one of your hands is inching closer between your legs and he stops his thrusts, his cock still taking up most of your mouth, and looks down at your face.

“You wanna touch yourself? You like having your face fucked like a whore?”

You nod as best as you can and hum desperately, gazing up at him through your tear-soaked lashes. He furrows his brow, looking down at you with that wicked glint in his eye. “You know how to ask properly, I didn’t hear you sweetheart,” he tells you, sinking even deeper into your throat and you fight to suppress another gag. You hum again and look at him pleadingly; he’s well aware that you can’t ask him anything with his cock filling your throat like this. “Guess you don’t want to, then,” he shrugs, “hands behind your back. You’re not touching that pussy without my permission.” You whine, your clit throbbing painfully for attention, but you obediently cross your wrists at the small of your back.

“Poor thing,” he coos and pats your head in mock-sympathy, then moves his hand back to hold you in place as he pounds into your throat with renewed force. You gag around him, tears flowing all over your face and drool streaming down your chin and onto your tits. He sinks into you again and again, holding you up by your head and making you sputter around him, desperate to somehow draw air into your lungs. “Take it,” he growls, “take it like the little slut you are, down on the floor for me. That’s how you like it, don’t you?” He finally pulls out of you and slaps your cheek when you don’t respond immediately. “Don’t you?!”

“Y-yes sir,” you rasp, gasping for breath, tears and spit still all over your face.

He crouches down cups the cheek that he just slapped, his thumb rubbing at the tear-stained skin under your eye. You’re positive that you look a mess, mascara running down your cheeks and your dark lipstick smeared all around your mouth, mixing with your spit. Your hands are still behind your back, the arch in your body making you push your chest out and putting your tits on full display for him. He starts toying with your nipples again and you want to cry. An orgasm feels so close, yet so far away. You feel like you could come with just a few strokes on your clit, but you have no idea how much longer he will string you along until he finally deems it enough.

“You’ve been such a good girl, sweetheart. So patient all day, I bet you’re dripping all down those pretty legs right now, aren’t you? So desperate and ready for me, yeah?” His voice is a low growl in front of you and you whine your agreement. It’s not enough for him. “Say it. Tell me how desperate my little slut is to finally get fucked.”

You hesitate, your eyes dropping to the ground in front of you. “I-,” you gasp as he roughly grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, waiting for you to do as he said. “I need you to fuck me, so badly. I’ll be so good, I promise, just p-please, sir,” you whine, feeling pathetic, your voice trembling and your face burning. No matter how many depraved things he gets you to do with him, for him, talking like this still gets you embarrassed. Which is precisely why he makes you do it.

“And what are you?”

You feel your face heating up. “Your s-slut, sir.”

He grins as he adds another slap against your cheek. “Damn right you are.”

He straightens back up, tugs himself back into his pants and looks down at you. “Bedroom.” You scramble to get up, but he shakes his head and lands a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down again. “No, no. You’re gonna crawl.” You sink back on your hands and knees, the amount of embarrassment and arousal that you’re feeling making you dizzy, and you look up at him shyly.

He nods approvingly and bends down to tug your dress up higher until your bare ass and pussy are on full display. “Good girl, right where you belong. Off you go, come on.” You bite your lip and start crawling towards the bedroom, his footsteps right behind you and you can feel his eyes drinking you in as another groan grumbles in his chest.

You stop in front of the bed and give him a questioning look. He gestures for you to stand up and you get back to your feet with trembling knees. He steps closer, his hands ghosting over your shoulders and toying with the straps of your dress.

“Such a pretty dress,” he murmurs as he slides them off your shoulders, the garment slipping down your body, leaving you bare except for the heels that you’ve been wearing all evening. You’re painfully aware of the power dynamic between you, how you’re completely naked and at his mercy while he’s still fully dressed. His hands roam over you, leaving goosebumps in their wake and come to rest at your hips. He squeezes the flesh there, then turns you around until you’re facing the bed.

One hand reaches up to your neck and he bends you over until your upper body is resting on the mattress, your back arching and your ass up in the air for him. He takes a step back and lands a slap on your backside without warning. You yelp, your body instinctively lurching forward and your legs shaking with the strain of keeping your balance in your heels. He notices, of course, and says, “You better keep those pretty legs steady, doll,” before reaching forward and massaging your stinging flesh. You hum, trying to get your muscles to cooperate, but your legs won’t stop trembling.

Dave’s touch leaves your body and he sits down on the bed beside your head, his eyes searching your face. “What’s your color, sweetheart?” he inquires, softly stroking your cheek.

“Green,” you answer without hesitation. It has already been a lot and you’re sure that he’s nowhere near finished with you, but you like it like this. You crave it. He nods, his touch still gentle on your face.

“And what do you say when you need me to stop?”

“Red,” you whisper, leaning into his touch.

“Good girl,” he murmurs and leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek, before he stands up again and disappears from your field of view.

“So,” his voice drawls from behind you, “I think I’ll give you twenty-five tonight, how’s that sound, sweetheart?” You gulp, but know that there’s only one acceptable answer.

“S-sounds good, sir. Thank you,” you breathe, the apprehension clear in your voice, and he laughs quietly.

“And what did you do to deserve this?”

You bite your lip again, struggling to think through the fog of arousal clearly enough to give him an answer that he’ll be satisfied with. “I d-didn’t listen and talked- talked back at you, and…” you trail off when his hand dips between your legs, swirling through the wetness there before retreating again. You inhale sharply and continue, “…and that was disrespectful. I’m sorry, sir, it won’t- it won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Dave mumbles and his fingertips ghost over your lower back. “But that was a nice little speech, sweetheart. Starting now, you’re gonna count them out for me, yeah? Lose count and we’ll start over.” You nod and your hands grip the sheets as you try bracing yourself.

The first slap meets your flesh, not as hard as you know he can go, but hard enough to get a small scream out of you. “One,” you force yourself to say and he hums appreciatively, before landing the second slap exactly on the same spot as the first one. “T-two,” you whine, his handprint searing on your skin.

You make it until eleven before your legs give out, your trembling muscles collapsing under the task of keeping you upright in your heels while your body is scrambling to get away from the oncoming assault on your ass cheeks. You fall forward, your knees hitting the mattress right after Dave’s hand connected with your backside again. “Twelve, I’m sorry, sir,” you choke out.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, stepping closer and running his hands soothingly over your back as he searches your face, a look of soft concern on his face. “What’s your color, doll?”

“Green. Still- still green, sir,” you breathe out and you mean it. You feel like you’re on fire, but in the best way.

“Yeah?” he questions, “want me to continue?” and you nod your head eagerly. The concern washes away from his face, his jaw tensing and his eyes growing cold again. “Fucking masochistic little slut,” he growls and you moan, your walls desperately clenching around nothing.

He lets you stay with your knees on the bed, your ass still up high for him, until you’ve finally reached “twenty-five, t-thank you, sir.” You’re sobbing at this point, your skin feels raw where he hit you, but you’re also damn near delirious with want for him.

Dave strokes your skin gently, telling you what a good girl you’ve been and how proud he is of you, and you bask in his praise. Then his hand travels lower, slipping between your thighs until his fingers are running through your folds, feeling how soaked exactly his rough treatment has left you. “Fuck doll, you’re dripping. You really liked that, huh?” he murmurs as he pushes two of his thick fingers into you, sliding in easily and making you moan loudly.

He thrusts into your tight heat roughly, causing you to arch your back and spread your legs wider, your release so close that you can almost taste it. He keeps going until he feels you growing tighter, starting to clench around his fingers, and slides them out of you abruptly. You sob, feeling your orgasm subside again.

“I think you were about to come without permission, sweetheart. You just promised me you’d be good, didn’t you? Guess your greedy little cunt just can’t help herself, huh?”

You whimper an apology and receive another slap to your abused skin, causing you to jerk forward. “No doll, you stay right here. Give me your hands,” Dave’s stern voice orders from behind you. You let him take hold of your wrists, leaving you completely at his mercy in the position that you’re in, and he digs your panties out of his pants pocket, looping them around your wrists until they’re tightly secured.

When he’s satisfied with his work, you finally hear the rustling of him taking off his clothes. Without warning, you feel him swipe the head of his cock through your drenched folds, teasing you with the tip, grazing your clit and causing you to gasp, then sliding back until he’s prodding at your entrance. You whine loudly and try pushing your hips backwards, but his hold tightens around you, keeping you in position.

“Not so fast. Be a good girl and beg for it,” he requests, in a voice that still sounds so controlled, while you feel like you’re barely able to form words anymore. You’re not embarrassed anymore, the promise of his cock so close to where you want him wiping all inhibitions from your mind.

“Please sir, I need you so badly, please fuck me, I’ll do anything, just please…”

You feel pathetic begging like this, but you couldn’t care less. Dave lets out a strained groan behind you, and then he’s pushing into you in one strong thrust. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve taken him or how wet you are, his size always stings at the first intrusion and you wail, your body being pushed forward by his movement and he grips your bound wrists, holding you steady as he starts pounding into you.

“So fucking tight and wet you little slut, fuck you take me so good, being such a good girl, fuck…” Now his voice sounds wrecked behind you and you moan loudly at his words and at the way he’s splitting you open. This is what you had been craving for hours, the feeling of him thrusting into you again and again, and you push your hips back to meet his thrusts, to get him even deeper.

One of his hands grips your hair and pulls, forcing you to arch your back even more and slightly shifting the angle where he’s pounding into you, hitting something so delicious inside of you that you almost come on the spot, your walls already fluttering around him, but you’re not allowed, your scrambled brain reminds you, you need…

“Please sir, I’m gonna come, can I please…” Your voice breaks off into a sob when his movements slow down and he pulls out of you, pushing you forward until you’re laying flat on the bed, and he starts working on releasing your bound wrists.

“Good girl, asking for permission,” he praises, “but you’re gonna look me in the face when I make you come tonight.”

He frees your wrists and turns you around so that you’re on your back, looking up at him through teary eyes, desperate for your release. “Poor thing,” he coos as he gets between your legs, placing his large hands on your thighs and spreading them wide. His cock nudges at your entrance but he doesn’t sink back into you, his gaze trained on your face and his hand wandering up to play with your bottom lip.

“Open wide,” he tells you and you obey, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out. His breath has turned heavy by now and he hovers over you, hungry eyes roaming over your face, your open mouth and your wet eyes. He draws back the tiniest bit, then he spits into your mouth, his saliva coating your tongue and you whine, the filth of the whole situation making your pussy clench once more.

“Keep it open, show me.”

You hold still, your mouth wide open, feeling his spit mixing with yours as you stare up at him, waiting for his next command. “Now swallow,” he finally says and you do, showing him your empty mouth afterwards and he grins. “Fuck, you’re such an obedient slut, being such a good girl for me. You’d do anything right now, wouldn’t you? Fucked all the thoughts out of that pretty little head, yeah?”

“Yes, anything,” you whimper, and he sinks his cock back into you without preamble. Your eyes widen at the sensation of being full again and the new angle, moans of his name falling from your mouth and you wrap your legs around him, grasping at his wide shoulders to hold onto something as he starts pounding into you again with raw strength.

One of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing until you feel light-headed, intensifying the feeling of his deep thrusts into you. Pleading whispers leave your lips, but you don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore, if you want more, if you want him to stop.

His movements speed up even more, hitting spots inside of you that have you moaning and squirming underneath him and the hand on your throat travels down to your breasts, toying with your nipples, pinching and pulling and sending delicious waves of pain through you.

You’re so close again, when his hand slides down to rub at your clit, making you scream and throw your head back, your eyes pinched close. He grabs at your face and forces you to look at him.

“Oh no, you’re gonna look me in the eyes when I make you come, are you gonna come sweetheart?”, he growls. You whine and nod desperately, your eyes shining with tears. “Go ahead then, come for me, squeeze my cock like the good little whore you are.”

He swirls his thumb over your neglected clit once more, gives you a particularly hard thrust and your vision swims, your whole body tensing up before you bear down on him and fall apart. You’re clenching rhythmically around his cock as the orgasm tears through your body in pulsing waves and you’re pulling him over the edge with you as he climaxes with a deep moan, spilling his release inside of you.

You’re a trembling mess, your breath stuttering and your mind still caught up in a blissful haze, and you’re only vaguely aware of him collapsing beside you, but you register the tender kiss that he presses to your cheek before he gets up and retreats to the bathroom.

The next thing you feel is the bed dipping as he sits down beside you again and you slowly blink your eyes open. Maybe it’s the post-orgasmic bliss that you’re still lost in, but you think to yourself that he looks especially beautiful right now, his face relaxed with a small smile playing around his mouth, where the stubble of his beard is showing through at the end of the day, and with his brown eyes warm again now as he looks at you.

“May I?” he asks and holds up a damp towel. You nod, returning his smile and watching as he brings the towel down between your legs, cleaning you up and soothing your hot skin. He gently turns you over and spreads some kind of healing balm over your burning cheeks, careful not to touch you too roughly. He also cleans your face, his soft touches almost enough to lull you to sleep.

When he’s finished, he maneuvers you around, causing you to giggle, until you’re in the middle of the bed and he can pull the covers over you, sliding in beside you and wrapping his arm around your middle. You shuffle closer until you’re securely tugged into his side, your breath fanning against his broad chest.

“You good?” he asks, looking down at you and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah,” you smile up at him and stretch to reach his mouth with your lips. He kisses you back, his hand coming up to play with your hair, and you smile even wider. As much as he likes to be rough with you, you think that what he actually needs, is the softness.

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[ddejavvu]

Eddie and Steve going to see their idol, rockstar!reader, in concert. Except you think they’re both cute when you see them screaming in your front row. After a water break backstage, you reach for their hands midsong, giving one of them a note saying to meet you afterwards.

Eddie and Steve being in your green room, and when I say literally, I mean literally drooling over you. You have Eddie making out with your neck with egregious moans, Steve slobbering all over your tits, as he pants at your scratches to his head. They’re both thanking you over and over, and when you name them ‘my good boys’ they actually become fully yours, there and then. When you pull Eddie to make out with you, his spit is literally gleaming down your chin, as he sloppily tries to press his tongue all over your mouth, as much as he can get. They both need to taste you, you’re so amazing. And when Steve decides he can’t wait long enough for his first kiss too, you have both of them whining as loud as they can (maybe they’re slightly deaf from the concert) as they’re both trying to basically swap tongues with you, at the same time. Not even mentioning the drool that piles up at the corner of their lips, once they’re actually bouncing with every thrust while you three fuck. You give them bottles of that really posh water, the refreshing shit, while you three all cuddle under stage outfits, on the floor of your dressing room

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

this ask punched me in the fucking clit i swear to GOD this shit is good...

After a water break backstage, you reach for their hands midsong, giving one of them a note saying to meet you afterwards.

they'd quake. maybe you slip it to steve 'cause eddie's holding his phone's camera out already, but you wink at him, too, so he knows he's included. it literally makes him lose his mind, he screams so loud that he blows out the mic on his phone and steve's got this adorable pinky blush on his face aksngjdnfsd

You have Eddie making out with your neck with egregious moans, Steve slobbering all over your tits, as he pants at your scratches to his head.

no bc...... bc even if they're not touch starved, (but they probably are) it's you that's touching them!!!!!! it's you!!!!!! so they're completely shellshocked, just moving and touching and biting and licking and kissing because it's all their fried brains can do - eddie swears you're intoxicating, he can't stop mouthing at your neck no matter how much he wants to move other places. it's just addictive, why would he stop when it's so good?? and steve... ohhh steve's frantically ping-ponging between your tits, tongue leaving trails of spit each time he switches which boob is in his mouth. he suckles against your nipple but catches sight of your other tit, so lonely :( so he has to switch over to that one, and his saliva cools on your nipple while he makes out with that one. it's a neverending cycle, he's so desperate to love all of you that he can't stay focused mmmm - and your fingers raking through his hair?? he's drooling, literally drooling down the underside of your tits and down your stomach, his spit is shining on your skin every time it pours from his mouth when you rake your nails against his scalp and make him groan... it's such a guttural noise and he just presses his open mouth to your tit so that it hums through you and his eyes scrunch shut with those pretty lashes of his resting on the apples of his cheeks

They’re both thanking you over and over, and when you name them ‘my good boys’ they actually become fully yours, there and then.

THANKING YOU THANKING YOU THANKING YOU UGH yes they're so stunned and starstruck that you picked them, you could have picked anyone else but you picked them!!!!

When you pull Eddie to make out with you, his spit is literally gleaming down your chin, as he sloppily tries to press his tongue all over your mouth, as much as he can get.

press his tongue all over your- *clenches thighs* MOUTH.... i'm actually depraved. he is not concerned at all with proper kissing etiquette, all he knows is that you're there and you want him and he wants you so bad that he just can't control it, he's sloppy and messy and drooly and he covers your lips and chin in so much spit just trying to make out with you, desperately trying to press his tongue anywhere he can taste you 😵

you have both of them whining as loud as they can (maybe they’re slightly deaf from the concert) as they’re both trying to basically swap tongues with you, at the same time. Not even mentioning the drool that piles up at the corner of their lips, once they’re actually bouncing with every thrust while you three fuck.

the thought... of them... practically crying from how fucked-out they already are from just a kiss, eyes scrunched and hands desperate and grabby, tongues all over you and your mouth and your chin and your lips and your own tongue and- KNFSNDFNSD. there's so much drool and the sound is obscene, squelching and stickiness as their drool starts to dry on your chin and down your chest but more just slops over it, you're literally dripping with their spit i'm CUMMING.

You give them bottles of that really posh water, the refreshing shit, while you three all cuddle under stage outfits, on the floor of your dressing room

no bc. bc they finish (they probably cum like six times to your one kSKJGNSDF) they automatically assume you'll just send them on their way again. bc like? you just wanted a quick fuck, right? noooo but when you drag them over to your couch or flop right down onto the floor and snuggle yourself up between them??????? oh my god brains short-circuiting!!! they're so fucked-out and clingy that they're just all over you, you're suffocating under their touch but you wouldn't have it any other way :')) a real, sweet kiss with much less tongue this time would absolutely kill them, it's so sweet and lovingly intimate and they'll take turns just smooshing their lips to yours turning your head back and forth :'))

[tangerinesilk]

－ I CAN SEE YOU : TANGERINE X FEM!READER

tangerine is going on a solo mission… well, at least he thinks he is. with lemon missing by his side, he’s left with one other option that is supposed to make his job easier. unfortunately for him, you’re not the easiest to work with. stubborn, strong-minded and feisty. you’re both so alike yet nothing has made your bloods boil more than each other. 

rating ✷ r (18+ minors dni!)

warnings ✷ (very quick) smut: fem receiving, kisses all over bodies, a needy but quick hj, p in v, dirty talk, praising, implied rough (consensual) sex / others: cursing, drinking alcohol, mention and use of guns and violence, male hurting female (?) but not between main characters, mentions of blood and wounds.

tropes ✷ enemies to lovers!!!, person a is all talk no bite + person b knows that but still pushes them, playful banter, hiding together in small spaces, fake dating (?), if one is hurt– the other goes a bit crazy, says ‘i dont care’ then cares 5 seconds later. 

word count ✷ 6k!

songs that fit the vibe ✷ i can see you - taylor swift | moth to a flame - swedish house mafia + the weeknd | king of my heart - taylor swift | attention - charlie puth | nonsense - sabrina carpenter

a/n ✷ so i made a poll a months ago and this trope + pairing won! i’ve honestly been wanting to write a dave lizewski one as well and got a request idea. so.. we will see lmao. i will probably post then maybe edit later if there's still things i don't like... also, if you couldn't tell but im kind of a swiftie so i will love to write fics inspired by whole ass albums y'all.

but i hope this is what u guys expected and wanted. i actually do love writing for tangerine. just gives into my delulu thoughts. also, if you guys would like a plain pwp fic and not all of this fluff and dialogue stuffed inside, pls let me know bc i am definitely into that idea. 🫡

“You had to go and get yourself shot… then you wonder why you have to wear a bulletproof vest. Fuckin’ hell.” 

Tangerine kept his voice at a hushed tone, basically talking under his breath as he strutted through the grand hall of the hotel. Golden light glossed over his figure, passing by couples who were at standing tables with their cocktails.

“Well, Thomas said-”

“Thomas didn’t say shit. Don’t get me fuckin’ started now.”

Lemon already knew Tan was in a bad mood. Another Thomas the Tank Engine factoid wasn’t a playful move right now.

“Hey, mate. Don’t get all fussy wit’ me. You’re just mad about your new partner for the night.” Lemon rolled his eyes.

“Can’t believe I can’t be held accountable of myself. I can handle it on my own but you had to call the fuckin’ princess-” 

“She’s good. Your denial is obnoxious, bruv. It’s only a night, you get in and get out.” Lemon replied, holding his wounded side as he laid in his bed back in England, “What happened between you two that you’ve got beef like this?”

“No time to explain nor do I have the patience.” He arrived at the small bar to the side of the room, “If I leave her behind, can I take half the pay that’s supposed to be hers?” Tangerine asked.

“She’s supposed to be wearing a red dress. You’ll see her there… and please don’t cause a scene.” His brother begged.

“No promises.” He replied before hanging up. 

Tangerine blows a sigh past his lips, quickly asking for his drink of choice before scanning the mass of people around him. His blue eyes could only search so fast for the man that the hit was called on, causing him an instant frustration when he’s already worried about you ruining things regardless of how long you’re together.

“He’s next to the woman in the tacky gold ballgown… about two feet away from the ice sculpture.” Your soft voice suddenly spoke next to him, “But, I didn’t need to tell you that, right?”

The smirk on your face burned at his nerves and you noticed the clench in his jaw.

“Well, if it isn’t the fuckin’ Queen herself.” He said in a stern tone, “What? Germany was too borin’ for ya? Had to figure out a way to ruin someone’s operation?”

“Lemon is the one who called me in, and it isn’t about you. It’s about the pay out… you’re bound to screw something up with your ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ tactic.” You trailed, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away.

“And I’m certainly not afraid to use that tonight and not your fucked up, painfully long mind games like some fuckin’ psycho thilling killer.” He spat as his drink was place in front of him.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Fuck you.”

“Darling, I’m flattered, but we have more important things to do right now.” He lowly groaned, purposefully looking at his target so his back was facing toward you.

Behind his tall stature, you glimpsed past his shoulder and saw your target chatting up a woman. 

He won’t be smiling for long, you thought.

“Alright, I’ll wait for him to slip away, follow him and you go through the kitchen.” Tangerine said under his breath, keeping quiet for only you to hear him.

“To go where?” You ask, walking around him to stand face to face.

“Erm…” He sighed, “Whatever car or vehicle you got here in, drive yourself back to whatever place you’re staying and I’ll figure out how to wire you the money.” He shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

He took a step but you placed your hand on the center of his chest, “Not so fast. I’m not going down if you make a mess of this.”

“I don’t make messes. Well, actually, I get away with them once I’ve done ‘em so, I don’t need to worry about a liability.” Tangerine smirked, a bit of a tilt to his head. Cheeky bastard.

“The only liability here is the one who is ready to pull the trigger in his back.” You said before huffing, “I’m not sorry for what happened in Paris, but that was my choice. So, I’m going with you because it’s our operation. You know… I don’t need a fucking helping hand either.” You practically growled.

The two of you held a long gaze, creating a tense eye contact before he sighed, “Didn’t even say anythin’ about Paris, but if you’d like to assume I’m still mad ‘bout that, be my guest, princess.”

His shoulder bumped yours, making you clench your jaw before quickly following behind his tall stature. While he seemed persistent, you grabbed his hand which made him stop in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor.

He turned, “Am I your babysitter?”

“No, you’re my date. Hold my hand, you idiot.” Your eyes pierced through his.

As he looked down at your hand, he slowly grasped it, your fingers intertwining with one another’s before he proceeded through the glamorous crowd.

Couples swayed and waltzed between each step you took, assuming you were unnoticed by your target. Tangerine kept his eyes on him, easy to with the frosty-white full head of hair he had slicked back. The woman in the tacky dress ran her hand down his shoulder, pressing her lips to his ear to whisper something which made you and Tangerine veer to the side at a standing table.

“Are they movin’?” He asked, facing his back toward them.

Your eyes smoothly shift, taking a quick glance at the assumed couple. You ran your hand down Tangerine’s arm, accidentally feeling how toned his bicep was through the thick fabric of his suit jacket. You almost glanced down, wanting to give another squeeze before clearing your throat. A heat rose on your cheeks as you turned your head to face away from him.

“Y-Yeah, near the bathroom. There’s also a backdoor that leads up to the second floor… lots of private rooms for reasons that are obvious.” You said in a hushed tone, moving away from him to the other side of the table.

“Alright, since you wanna tag along, I’ll follow them and you cover the door.” Tangerine suggested once again.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “You do understand what teamwork is, yes?”

He chuckled, “Yes, I go up there, shoot a few rounds, then we make a getaway.”

“Will you just trust me?”

“Your trust means nothing… I need to know you’re not going to fuck anything up. Just like in Paris.”

You smirked, “So you do have that against me.”

“Well, it’s not like it was your best. Leave me with a shot in the arm, Lemon on the ground and you, little miss greed, get away with your cash. If we all did this job for money, we wouldn’t be riskin’ our lives just runnin’ around killin’ or resucin’ people just for someone’s dime. You obviously do though.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You don’t know me…”

“Nor do you know me so…” He huffed, “Let’s just do what we have to do.”

There was tension between you, as if there was more fo a protective instinct than hate toward one another. You couldn't figure out Tangerine’s deal. Why was he so hostile toward you? Yes, what happened in Paris was fucked up, but he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. He didn’t take shit from anyone, so why were you getting under his skin?

“Shit!” He grunted under his breath, seeing your target disappear into the hall.

The two of you hurry, yet still try to act casual to not raise eyebrows, and exit into the same hallway. As you push open the door, you hear the two talking in the stairwell before another door closes.

“You got your gun on you?” He asked as his hand slid into the back of his pants.

“Of course.” You scoffed, tearing up the slit in your dress. He saw the small pistol strapped to your thigh, making his mouth a bit dry.

He nodded, “Good…” 

Taking a quick breath, Tangerine opened the door. You slipped through and he followed behind, your backs facing one another as you scanned the hallway. It wasn’t narrow but if anyone slipped out of one of the rooms, they were right in your sights.

“I’ll take this one, you take that one.” He whispered, pointing his gun to the opposite door of his.

With your heart in your throat, you slowly crack the door open and don’t see anyone before a body flies from behind and slammed the door open from Tangerine’s side. The woman lied dead on the floor, blood all over his dress, and just as you turned around, a punch slid across your cheek. 

Instinctively, you ducked to dodge the second jab and swoop under to get on the other side of the man as Tangerine wrapped his arms around the guy to pull him to the ground.

Tan loudly grunted as he tried to gain control, basically attempting to straddle him in order to push his arm against his neck. Even with all his strength, the man gripped his hands around Tangerine’s arms to throw him off along with trying to push his knee between his crotch.

“Watch the door!” Tan directed to you. 

You nodded, catching your breath with your back against the wall by the door. The adrenaline ran through your veins and heard your heartbeat in your ears as one tear of blood dripped down your cheek. The crack of bones made you turn your head, seeing the man’s body go limp as Tan began to stand over him.

He quickly walked over the man, as if he was in the way, and comes to your side.

“He nicked you bad. Lemme see.” Tan said, your eyes meeting his as he held your cheek. The touch of his hand seemed to be some comfort, his thumb wiping the blood away and trying to see how bad the wound was.

“Bastard.” He muttered, “C’mon, let’s go before someone comes up.”

Without a word in, he grabbed your hand and dragged you behind his lead. You two headed for the exit door down the other side of the hall as you heard footsteps rumble from the other stairs you came up.

“Wait a minute.” Tan said, fiddling with his belt buckle.

Your eyes widen, “What on earth are you doing?”

He smirked, “Relax, darling. You flatter yourself too much.”

You rolled your eyes as the sound of his belt slid against the fabric of his belt loops before curling the leather strap around the door to keep it locked. The two of you fled down the stairs and suddenly found yourselves in the kitchen area. A few eyes followed as you both ran through, very obvious that you were running from something, but still aimed to get to some kind of exit.

With sudden luck, Tangerine saw his car across the street, instantly knowing which way he was supposed to go. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed your hand once more and the two of you ran across the street. Hopping into the passenger seat and Tan taking off was like a blur, just happening in seconds.

“Y/N?” Tan saying your name woke you from your trance.

“Huh?” You asked, shaking your head.

He quickly turned his head, “You alright?” He said with concern, one hand on the steering wheel and his foot easing off the gas.

“Y-Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t know what happened back there.” You trailed, a bit embarrassed. You were never one to let your guard down, well– enough to get hit right smack in the face.

“Are you sure?”

You turned your attention to him, “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” You asked rhetorically.

“‘Cause of that big cut on your cheek.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Alright, what’s your big plan now, Einstein? Were just going to sleep in your car and hope we don’t wake up decapitated?”

He half-chuckled, “You truly think so little of me, don’t you?”

“Is that rhetorical?”

Tan rolled his blue eyes, “We’re goin’ somewhere safe.”

– – –

You wanted to believe you were strolling into some kind of trap. The lobby had a classic aesthetic to it, pale gold wallpaper and a wall of keys behind the person at the small front desk. You two placed your go-bags on the red carpeted ground as Tangerine checked into a room.

“Hello Mr. Tangerine.”

Oh, great. He’s some guest of honor here.

“‘Ello, Colin. My usual room.”

“Is that what you say in front of all the girls?” You tilted your head, standing behind him.

He rolled his eyes, “‘Cuse her.”

The man chuckled, crinkles by his eyes, “How many nights are you staying this time?”

This time. You could scoff out loud but you didn’t want to hear the tude from him.

“Just overnight. Nothin’ too serious.”

“Well, enjoy your stay, as always.” The man nodded before Tangerine thanked him.

The two of you head toward the old elevator, watching him quickly press the up button before you stand by his side. You half chuckled, “I’ve never seen you act so kindly toward anyone, tell me, does he see you bring girls through here all the time or-”

“Has anyone ever told you to shut your pie hole?”

“Hmm, not verbally. But, those eyes of your say enough for me… you’re too predictable, sometimes, Tan.”

He gave you a lingering look as the door opened, passing him into the elevator. The two of you make your way to the fifth floor and the hall is eerily quite for a hotel full of private contractors and assassins. You had your hands behind your back then patiently waited for Tangerine to jiggle the key into the lock, opening a door to a huge room with a surprisingly wide view.

“You’d think the curtains were closed.” You muttered as he walked over, closing them anyways.

Suddenly, he stripped from his suit jacket and you couldn’t help but see how tight his button up was around his biceps and chest.

“Did you get that a size too small?” You ask as you chunk your heels into the corner.

“Well, I certainly can’t kill fuckin’ bloaks wearing baggy clothes now.”

“But, you can in a three piece suit?” You cocked your eyebrow.

He licked his lips, “As if your dress is a flexible material.” Tangerine said as he pulled his rings off, placing them on the night stand.

“I can say the same for your pants.”

Tangerine wanted to look down but didn’t give into your comment. You place your bag down on the bed, grabbing your silk pajamas nearly folded on top and changed in the bathroom.

“God, just go to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” You somewhat groaned.

You sit on the top of the bed, unfolding the duvet before shoving it off to get underneath them.

Tangerine paused, “What the fuck do you you’re doin’?”

You furrowed your eyebrow, “This thing called going to sleep. Try it sometime, you’d be less grouchy.”

He rolled his eyes, “I know that, smartass, I mean what’re you doin’ in the bed that I’m goin’ to be sleepin’ in too?”

You rolled over, putting your weight on your elbows, “I know you’re dramatic but this takes the cake for top performances.”

He faked a laugh, “If you don’t get your ass out of that bed in two seconds, I’ll throw you in the tub with a pillow.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to. Fine, do it.” You said before laying flat into the mattress, staring straight at the ceiling.

He didn’t care for your equal amount of sarcasm, but he just gave you a cocked eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. I’d rather sleep on the floor anyways.” He said, stretching his arms up and behind his head. Your eyes quickly admired his muscles before turning back.

“Be my guest, princess.” You scoffed, slipping on your pajama shorts, “I’ll enjoy my big comfy bed.”

You pulled the heavy duvet over your waist, curling up with the dense pillow beneath your head. 

Tangerine stood there, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you roll on your side. He tilted his head back before unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it on the desk chair. Although your eyes were closed, his side of the bed sunk in and you tried to hold back your smile at his faded stubbornness.

With your backs facing one another, you two just listened to the silence of the city. It gave you a moment to think of Paris– the last time you were with one another or much rather supposed to be against each other. You were a double agent, not exactly proud of it but you let greed take over your motivated justice. 

Having to scam Lemon and Tangerine wasn’t your finest hour either, you thought about it for months and finally coming face to face with Tangerine (out of the two, he wasn’t the one you would want to bump into again), all the guilt came rushing back like the snap of an elastic band.

– – –

The morning sun runs through the thin silk of the curtains, shining over your bodies in the bed. You wake up to the sound of light snoring, happy that you could sleep through it, and Tangerine in a deep slumber with his arm over the bed. He suddenly looked like innocence, so soft and tender, simply laying there like it was any other day.

You sit up, putting your hair out of your face then head to the bathroom. When you turn the light on, you’re almost surprised to see your reflection. Forgetting about the scar against your cheek, you look more rough around the edges. You sigh as you run your fingers over it, remembering the way Tangerine did last night.

After washing up, you go back out and Tangerine is now standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Your eyes quickly shift up his body, admiring the tattoos in their random places and how the band of his briefs rest on his hips. You sealed your lips from smiling at how sharp his v-line was accompanied by the happy trail disappearing into his pants.

“Sleep good with that stick in your ass?” You retort, passing him.

He rolled his eyes, “...You’re annoying, ya know that?”

“Oh, you’ve made that clear.” You mocked him as you closed the curtains more, “That’s why I love to do it.”

Tangerine flicked on the lamp, giving the room a warm glow.

“Alright, I say we lay low today. Better to be out of sight and–”

You cut him off, “Stuck in this room together?... are you trying to kill me t–”

He then put his hand over your mouth, looking deep into your eyes, “Yes, stuck in this room where we can keep an eye on each other and you can’t screw me over again.”

Your heart stopped for a split second, as if he couldn’t have been more of the controlling one. He took his hand away and you gulped, “Yep. Fine. Fair.”

Tangerine pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek before you go to your bag in the chair that’s pushed in the corner of the room. You slightly bend over to look inside your duffle and his icy eyes can’t help but look up the back of your thighs and straight at your ass and lower back. How he could easily put his hands on your hips and make you hold onto something.

He shook his head, feeling like he was coming down with something to even imagine that thought.

You pulled out an old novel and sat yourself back on the bed, hoping that the hours would pass as you sank further into the broken-in mattress.

Tangerine sat down in the chair nudged into the corner, adjacent from your view, and he pulled out his gun that was conveniently tucked into the back of his pants.

“Are you actually holding me hostage?” You furrowed your brows, but didn’t take your eyes from your sentence.

“Whatever fantasy you’d like you believe.” He trailed, opening his gun and emptying his rounds into his palm.

– – –

Suddenly, you leaped out of a deep sleep. Your book laid open on your stomach while an extra pillow was between your legs. Your eyes fluttered open, thinking the past few days has been a dream, until you noticed Tangerine wasn’t sitting in the chair. You quickly looked around before hearing the bathroom door open and he stepped out, shirtless and in new dark slacks that rested on his hips.

Your mouth became dry. How could you dislike him so much yet here you are, ready to jump his bones as he crossed the room.

“What are you getting dressed for?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

He half-chuckled at your groggy voice, “I want a drink.”

“Oh, like you’re not just going to abandon me here like I did you?... Where you go, I go.” You warned him.

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“A bit hypocritical coming from you.”

Tangerine just ignored your smart comment and opened the door, letting you through first before he followed. His eyes, once again, trace your lower back and trailed down your legs. His cheeks flushed pink as he quickly looked away, clearing his throat as he caught up to you so you two were walking side by side.

You pushed the faded down button as you pushed a big breath past your lips. Tangerine put his back against the wall and crossed his arms, his muscles basically restraining in his light button up. As you turned around, you rolled your eyes– but not at him, just at yourself. How could you have any little feeling for someone who also annoyed you to your core?

He took your silence as a bit of a tease. To be fair, you two didn’t really know one another. You met once before and then you simply betrayed him. Quickly, you were dead to him, but now you’re forced to be together and it raised an important question to himself too. Why was he helping someone who obviously can’t be trusted? 

Tangerine furrowed his eyebrows at that thought, knowing he would have thrown you to the wolves last night after you closed your eyes. He played with his watch a bit before the elevator dinged and caught both of your attentions.

After entering, the low-sounding shifting mechanics of the elevator were the only sounds between you two. You heard Tangerine sniffle, seeing him stretch his neck out of the corner of your eye, but you kept a straight view to the doors. While Tangerine thought you were continuing to give him the silent treatment, you were lost in your own thoughts of the past.

You flashbacked to your last night in Paris together, and remembered how the guilt creeped up on you knowing that, in a few hours, you’d have to betray both Lemon and Tangerine. Before knowing them, you didn’t care, but now that you’ve realized how hard you were falling for Tan, it felt like a double edged sword. If you didn’t do it, maybe you could stay with him– have a life together. But, if you went through with your selfish heist, you’d lose the guy who made you comfortable with being vulnerable after a long time. 

Obviously, you regretted your decision.

“Is this what you want?” You simply asked.

Tangerine quickly turned his head, “What?”

You rolled your eyes before facing his direction, “This.” You gestured between the two of you, “The weird animosity and constantly arguing and nit-picking?”

He never thought you’d be so bold to point it out, “I mean, we don’t like each other. Simple, isn’t it?”

“I guess…” You trailed, facing back toward the doors.

Tangerine licked his lips, wondering if he should utter the words on his tongue.

“...But, that doesn’t mean we can’t start over.”

You looked over your shoulder once more before turning around to him, “You mean that?”

He arched his eyebrow, “Should I regret it now?”

Just as the elevator dinged, the doors slowly opened and the hotel lobby appeared empty. You smirked to yourself, “Why don’t we catch up over that drink, huh?” You sort of teased– not sure if it had purpose.

– – –

Your drink tasted smooth, easily trailing down your throat as you leaned your head back to finish off the rest of the liquor in your glass. Once you tilted your head back straight, you were met with Tangerine’s signature eyebrow arch.

“Don’t worry, I’m paying for my own drinks.” You sighed, placing your glass back down on the wooden table top.

“As long as I don’t got to carry you back up to the room.” He sighed, sounding more defeated than witty, then his blue eyes glanced down then back into your eyes.

You hummed, running your finger along the rim of the empty glass. 

“‘right so, what’ve you been doin’ since we last…” He cleared his throat, “saw one other?”

You crossed your leg over the other, “Not much. Actually, it’s the first time I’ve been out for a while. After leaving you guys, I laid low in Tuscany.”

“For how long?”

You shrugged, “Five months? I was on the countryside and I wanted to be alone…” then, you smirked, “I heard that you were in Kyoto.” 

Tangerine could chuckle about it now, “For a bit. Had a job to do for some psychotic, fucked up family. The dad called in us, they were all turin’ on each other. Whole fuckin’ thing…”

“As in…” You trailed, “Against one another? The whole family?”

He just nodded before taking a sip of his drink.

You raised your eyebrows, “Wow… and you got out with no bruises or cuts? Bullet holes?”

Tangerine licked his lips before he presented the side of his neck, lighter skin over his tanner tone to show the scar. You carefully reached out, brushing your fingers against it which made a tingle go up his spine. You sit back down as he turned back in his chair, and he seemed to tense up.

“Amazing you survived it.” You sealed your lips.

He crossed his arms, “I supposed…”

A comfortable silent fell between you, the light, jazz music playing at a low, and Tangerine’s eyes trailed up the side of your bare leg. He didn’t mean to stare this much, but he felt more vulnerable than usual. One thing you knew is that Tangerine was a layered person, you had to take time to get to the center of him and realize he’s not so cold once you get to know him.

“Five months in Tuscany, I bet that was lovely.”

“Not really. I isolated the whole time… I wanted to be by myself, but I felt bad about what happened… what I did in Paris.” You admitted, but didn’t look into his eyes, fearing that he would turn on you in a second.

Tangerine sighed, “You had to do your job, we did ours… that’s ‘bout all that can be said.” 

Assuming from the lack of eye contact and his tone, he seemed hurt too. You could easily let it boost your ego, but, you actually felt a relief. This hatred you’ve held against each other has finally come down and even though it wasn’t actually said, both of you can feel hostility leave the room.

You bit the inside of your cheek, “Remember, we’re starting over. Clean slate. I hope I’m making a good impression so far.” You raised your eyebrows, lifting your glass again just to drink the mixture of watered down liquor. 

He chuckled, “You’re just lovely.”

The comment made your face get hot. You blame the accent and how it can just get under your skin.

“I don’t think you’ve ever called me something so nice.”

Tangerine smirked, “Funny since we’ve just met, darling.”

Darling.

It was the first time you heard it as a term of endearment then pure spite.

You rolled your eyes, but you could humor that Tangerine was going along with it. This new cheeky side of him was something you didn’t think existed– maybe it was the liquor talking, but you hoped it wasn’t just that simple.

“So, what brings you here?” You continued to tease, placing your elbows on the table, “Business… or pleasure?” Your hand laid on top of his, brushing your fingertips along the chunky rings that perfectly fit his fingers.

Multiples thoughts sounded through both your minds.

“Maybe it’s the liquor.” “Maybe we’re a little over our heads.” “Maybe we’re bored.”

But, Tangerine held your hand on top of the table, gently holding it as his thumb grazes over your knuckles.

“Depends…” He trailed, now leaning in too, “What are you here for?”

– – –

In just a few minutes, you two were back in the room you felt trapped in for hours.

Tangerine pressed your back against the wall, a tingle running up your spine from the coolness of the wallpaper. Your lips pressed together over and over, tilting your head before biting his bottom lip. He effortlessly lifted you up with his hand under the back of your thighs, and your ankles meet around his back.

He needed so bad, desperate even… and the feeling was mutual.

He put you down on your feet again, pressing a kiss against your scarred cheek then another on your jaw. His light kisses run down the middle of your breasts as his hand lifted up the end of your skirt. You pushed your hips out as your back was against the wall still, watching him pull down your panties in an instant. You kick them to the side and Tangerine placed your leg over his shoulder, kisses along your inner thigh and your hand ran through the front of his curls.

Suddenly, his tongue ran over your swollen clit before sucking on it. With one hand in his hair, the other caressing your breast and running your thumb over your nipple.

Tangerine panted, moving his hand against your pussy lips. He pushed them apart, showing your tight hole and how you clench around nothing. He lowly groaned, running his fingers over your clit before sliding his two fingers into your pussy. You bite your bottom lip to hold back the moan stuck in your throat, watching him suck your clit and finger you at the same time.

Just as your climax neared, he felt your cunt tighten around his fingers. He couldn’t end it like this so, he took them away. You let your leg down, watching him come back up and tower over you.

“If I’m goin’ to make you cum…” He sighed, “I’m gonna be deep inside you when you fucking crumble.” He said so low before pressing his fingers against your tongue, and you tasted yourself.

You pulled his hand back, running your thumbs over his tattooed hand.

“Not if I make you cum first.” You trailed, moving his hand down so you could kiss him.

He could drop to his knees in an instant, but Tangerine surprisingly kept his composure. 

You smirked as you pushed him toward the bed, the back of his knees hitting it to make him sit down. As you stood in front of him, he leaned on his elbows as he watched your dress drop to the floor. It pooled at your ankles and when his eyes shifted back up, so glossed over, your bare body was the center of his attention.

“Hmm, I don’t think you’ll last.” You taunted.

As much as he could snap back, you straddled him and pulled apart his tightly buttoned shirt. Your hands ran over his toned and tatted chest before reaching down to his pants, unzipping the fly and he shuffled a bit to shift them off his hips. His cock was hard, restrained from his boxers and you felt flattered.

You giggled, leaning forward to share a slow kiss with him. Your bare pussy rubbed against his cock as you moved closer to him. A low groan mumbled between your makeout, and you pushed him back so you two both fell on the bed.

Your hands pressed into each side of the mattress, gaining strength to help yourself grind against his hard. His big hands tightly held your hips as you continued your smooth momentum, whimpering at your clit being rubbed by your harsh grind.

As heat rose in the room, your right hand dipped between the two of you, and ran over his hard cock once more. Tan’s lips now desperately met your jaw before taking a light bite at your neck. The feeling of your hand caressing through his boxers could make him release right there.

Becoming more impatient, you finally pushed your hand into the band of his boxers and he once more moved his hips to shift out of them. 

“Fuck, your cock is so big… can barely hold it with my hand. God, I want you to stretch me out…” You moaned, “Is that okay?”

You purposefully let him believe that he was in charge, and you were falling into the submissive role. Tangerine gained a bit of confidence from your desperate comments, and he sat more up on the bed.

“Fucking christ…” Is all he could say.

He moved the swollen and red tip against your wet slit, also aching and needing your walls to wrap around him now. At first there was pressure, pushing the tip inside your hole then slowly guiding your hips down to completely take in every inch of his cock. 

Once he bottomed out, your body lightly shook as your lips brushed against his. He was fully inside you, the tight and warm feeling making him wither beneath you.

Tangerine moved his hand, kissing your shoulder, “God, you feel like fuckin’ heaven.”

“Don’t stop. Please…” You huffed.

– – –

Then, it was morning. 

The rising sun peaked through the small split of the curtains. As you tried to shift, your body ached throughout every muscle. A small groan left your lips, but you were pulled back by a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

It snapped you back into reality. Last night really happened… and you were okay with that.

Tangerine’s tattooed arm unconsciously tightened around you, holding you close still as he still slept behind you. You barely look over your shoulder and saw his face, his eyes still shut and his curls looked wild.

You faintly smile as you turn around to face him, and that’s what woke him up. He pulled his arms back and rubbed his eyes from the brightness of the sun coming in. You run your finger along a curl on his forehead, pushing it to the top of his head and your heart melted from the sight of those blue eyes.

“Did last night really happen?” You mumbled, but with a faint smile on your lips.

He placed his hand gently on your cheek, caressing his thumb against your jaw. 

“I think the real question is…” He trailed, “Do we stay another night or go back to pretending to not know each other's existences?”

You bit your bottom lip, lightly giggling, “I think we pick secret option three and go somewhere else. Get away for a while… see where this is going. Don’t you?”

Just at that moment, Tangerine’s phone vibrated in his pants that were on the floor next to the bed. He turned over on his other side, reaching down to pull it out and reading a text Lemon just sent.

“Got a call about a job in Budapest. Are you in or overstaying your weekend?”

Tangerine smirked at himself, then felt your lips press against his neck. You placed another kiss on his shoulder, leaving a tender love bite before he turned back around to kiss you. Maybe it was the natural thrill of the chase, but you loved the not knowing. 

Whatever was next, you could only hope that he kept it interesting.