#but I’m about a subtle as a brick to the face

[herembers]

Just some musings about my historical romance story…

The story I wrote for my grad class begins in a graveyard. The heroine finds out that her husband has died in a run-down brothel with his pants around his ankles. They’d been married less than a week. It’s the talk of the town. He’s left her utterly humiliated with debt collectors hounding her to pay off his debt. She ran away from home to marry him. She doesn’t have any money. She doesn’t know anyone in this town, but everyone knows her as the widow whose husband died mid-coitus. She can’t stay there. The shame is unbearable. She needs to skip town.

Before she flees, she decides to visit her husband’s grave one last time and because she’s melodramatic, she decides to do it in the dead of night. Maybe to spit on his grave or curse his name, but she can’t because it’s just a big empty pit. Someone is in the process of digging him up. This man is my heroine’s intended love interest: seedy graverobber by night, aspiring physician by day. She doesn’t know the second part yet, she just knows this scary man is digging up her dead husband. He’s not exactly thrilled to have been caught in the act so he drags her back into town. Instead of turning her in like she expects, he takes her to a brothel. She’s incensed at his audacity. He knows who she is. However, this brothel isn’t like the one her husband died in. This place is ritzy and high-class. Her husband couldn’t afford a 30-second conversation there let alone a night. Plot happens. She ends up working there as a maid to both pay off her husband’s debts and set money aside to someday leave.

More plot happens. She finds out the graverobber visits the brothel weekly to provide medical care free of charge. Oh. Maybe he’s not as bad as she thought. Even though he comes off as cold and detached, he’s consistently taking care of others. (Secretly taking care of her too). She harbors a lot of unfair resentment towards brothel workers and he doesn’t put up with her shitty judgemental attitude. They butt heads constantly, but he doesn’t tip-toe around her feelings. She likes that. She keeps finding excuses to spend time with him. Lots of stolen glances. Wistful longing.

I got to a point in the story later where I felt totally stuck. Writer's block in the extreme. I knew what was going to happen, but I needed a bridge to get there. I asked my professor for advice. He thought my story was engaging. He liked my characters. He’d given me great critique up until this point like where my dialogue needed to change to flow better etc. So when I told him I could use some direction, he gave me a few ideas. His main suggestion? Give my heroine a love interest.

Now, this is a slow burn, but I feel like I tend to lack subtlety. I thought I was being fairly heavy-handed in showing that the graverobber is her endgame. My professor went on to describe a potential love interest for her being a friend of the graverobber. Someone completely clean with an innocent profession and no interest in visiting the brothel as a customer. Maybe the graverobber could introduce the two and I could add an element of romance to my story!

Me? Add romance? Groundbreaking.

This is a professor whose first lecture contained a good amount of romance novel bashing. Jabs at bodice rippers. So I can’t say I’m entirely surprised he may have missed the signs. Maybe I really did do a poor job of painting a burgeoning love story.

I just don’t understand. Why would I introduce a love interest halfway through the story? Why would he be bland and stripped of any intrigue? Why did he think the graverobber was an unsuitable option for my heroine?

I didn’t get a chance to ask. I thanked him for his advice and managed to pump out a few more chapters but damn. I’m kind of left feeling…perplexed about the whole thing haha.

[rainrot4me]

Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 09

Jason the Toymaker x Female Reader - Cockwarming/Waxplay

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Creampie, vaginal, cockwarming, wax play, desperation, begging, wax dripping as a punishment, pain and pleasure, teasing, forced restraint, orgasm denial

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 2.7k

A/N: First time writing Jason!!! Ate him up fr

Jason was a very busy man.

His life was full of quick calculations and harrowing demands, unrest always eating away at him to finish whatever project he was up to.

His only relief? You, his perfect girl. In his eyes, you were chosen. His perfect playmate, his girl, exactly what he had been searching for.

You were hesitant at first, understandably so, but he brought out the best in you and coaxed out the reciprocated feelings he knew you had. It didn’t take long, the universe had already made up its mind: you were made for him. Jason spent all his time searching for the perfect playmate, testing so many girls that had let him down countless times, but you held. So, of course, being separated from you was incredibly difficult.

Running errands, collecting supplies, tidying his workspace- the redhead kept you by his side no matter what out of instinctual fear of losing you. Jason had searched his entire life for a girl like you, someone to be his perfect playmate; it would take hell or high water to get you away from him now.

So, of course, you were perched in his lap while he worked at his desk. Your head rested on his shoulder, body shifting and wrapping around him every time his hands moved to work on the tiny wax figurine he had in front of him. The fireplace was lit, fire crackling and popping in the brick hull, the lateness of the night surrounding you both in warmness. It would have been so wholesome, so comfortably domestic, if not for-

“Jason…”

The fiery redhead smiles.

“Yes, my lady?” He tries to hide the smirk in his voice, focusing on carving out the features of the doll he’s working on, the wax molding easily under his tools. You cling onto his back, nails digging into that pretty waistcoat he always wears, his muscled back sat straight as you tag at his white buttoned shirt. He can feel your thighs shake and tense as you try to adjust, to let some weight off of your knees as you straddle his lap. He knows you’re trying to be discreet, holding out the best you clench your gummy walls around him, a subtle hint. “What’s the matter, dear?”

“You know what…” You huff, burying your nose into the crook of his neck and taking deep, calculated breaths, trying to recenter yourself. Jason tilts his head, eyeing down at the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing that covers the pretty view of your body plastered against his. Maybe he likes to be a tease, to hear you say it instead of hiding your face in his neck.

You’ve both been here for about an hour, your body so heavy and tired from holding this position that you could cry. Every time you try to force yourself up, just enough to feel the swell of Jason’s cock nudge your insides, he grips your hips and holds you back in place. You try it again, rutting your ass just a little to nudge the divot of his cockhead against the swell of your cunt, but his low hum of warning stiffens you back against his chest.

Stupid doll, stupid Jason.

You’re nearly dizzy, your walls fluttering and clenching against him, but left unsatisfied altogether. “Are you done yet…? M’so tired…”

When he asked you to come sit with him while he finished working on his project, you didn’t expect to be hauled onto his lap with slacks unbuttoned and heavy cock lying against his hip so expectantly. You were giddy, placing your hands on his shoulders and slowly sinking down, but losing all of that excitement when he didn’t let you come up, holding you there as he began carving and smudging his metal tools on the toy.

That felt like forever ago now, your pussy gushing and twinging with need every time his length twitched with excitement.

“I’m nearly there, you’ll be alright for a little longer.” But you didn’t know if you would be, back aching and hips stuttering just to flinch upwards, knowing the movement would be useless. “Jason, please…”

The redhead huffs, setting his tools down and pressing back against the workbench chair, forcing you to sit up and look him in the eyes. The adjustment made you moan, his cock nudging just a little deeper inside, rubbing sweetly against that pocketed nerve. He rests his grimy hands on your hips, patting at your shaky thighs with an annoyed glare.

“My girl. You know you’ll get what you want, you just have to be patient.” He talks sternly, eyebrows furrowed just enough to make his harrowing green eyes bore into yours. You huff, trying your best to discreetly shift your legs a little wider to push him further to the hilt, rubbing against your g-spot.

Jason takes notice, snagging your upper thigh and holding you there as you groan, pleading with him. He lets out a hearty chuckle.

“Right. Seems we need a little incentive to stay still, huh?” Ruffling the bottom of your shirt up, Jason hauls the heavy fabric over your head, exposing the entirety of your naked body. You flush, embarrassed redness high on your cheekbones as he examines you. “Having a hard time listening today, dear?”

You shake your head, groaning a little when large hands press against your back to force you against his chest again, back into your original spot. You whine when his cock slips a little, tugging against your swelling entrance and beckoning for more. You stare into the fire behind you, the flames crackling and popping and warming your now exposed skin as you claw against his shirt.

You hear things shuffling, tools moving, and draws opening against his workbench, but you stay seated- defeated and all too pent up.

Until you hear the flicks of a lighter, the sparks snapping against the metal as Jason flicks a flame. You try to turn, to see what he’s doing, and his free hand presses you back firmly against him. “Jason?”

“Shhh, quiet, my dear.” Anxiety pools in your gut, unsure of what intentions he has as the lighter sounds extremely close to you and your bare skin.

“I want you to listen now, alright?” He cooes into your ear, widening his legs and shifting your weight a little as you nervously wait. You hear a subtle drip, drip, plopping against the wooden table behind you, the noise so ominous until you feel his arms press closer.

“Every time you move, try to sway those pretty little hips-” A sharp sting on your back has you jumping, clawing at his shoulders as the liquid- wax- runs down your exposed shoulders and onto your shoulder blades. “This’ll be your little punishment, alright?”

Another drop, then another trails onto your skin, hot stings of scalding wax dribbling and then hardening on reddened flesh. Jason has collected the excess wax from the doll he was working on, rolling it all together and holding the lighter underneath to melt the stuff right onto you. You shrieked, arching your back away from the sensation when you tried to flinch away again.

Until you sat still, forcing your chest against his, did he finally take the droplets away, setting the lighter back onto the workbench. “Good girl. See? You can listen.”

You panted into his neck, taking deep, settling breaths of his scent and centering yourself back. You didn't want to admit it, didn’t want to let him win over you- but as the wax dried and crusted onto your skin, you realized just how good it had felt.

After the initial shock, the initial wave of pain, the sting was euphoric and fun. You sat for a moment, contemplating just how serious he was as you felt him get back to work on his project. Did you dare?

But when you felt his hard cock twitch inside of you, flinching against your swollen walls, you knew you physically couldn’t restrain yourself any longer.

Pressing your hands against his chest, you dared to shift your hips, pressing your ass back far enough to shallowly ride him back and forth. Jason huffed, a tsk leaving his gritted teeth as you felt him reach for the lighter again, flicking the flame to life.

Before the first drop could even reach your skin, you shakily forced your hips up, snapping your ass back down with an obscene slap that echoed in the small workshop. Jason choked, your shrill moans as the wax dripped achingly slowly onto your bare shoulders, soaking their way down to your spine. You forced yourself back up, the redhead’s hands too occupied with the wax and lighter to force your hips still.

“Fuck- fuck, you little brat.” He groans, digging his heels into the floorboards as he tries to forcefully ignore the way his cock twitches and rings with excitement every time your ass makes contact with his bony hips. “I said-”

And then you’re sliding your hips up and down, snapping your ass back as you ride him with such depravity it leaves the redhead choking out a moan. He grits his teeth, wax sharply dropping lower and lower onto your back until the drops reach the plump curve of your ass, colorful liquid decorating your red skin. “S’too good, Jason- F-fuck you’re so- hah-”

His cock is swiping across your sweet spot, pressing in so hard you can’t help but let the tears pooling at your waterline trickle down your cheeks, face so puffy and red from built-up frustration. Jason seems to have lost some hold on the tools he was using to reassess you, the wax dripping across the swell of your ass and trickling down onto his clean slacks, staining the fabric. The sting is euphoric, every pinch of the burning liquid egging you to bounce your pretty ass faster.

Above you, Jason is lost, teeth gritted so tight he might chip a tooth at just how good the swell of your cunt feels constricting and tugging his veiny cock. He’s soaked inside of you so long you’re all warm and gushy, your arousal glistening down his length and pooling on his hips. He was satisfied just warming himself inside of your pretty cunt, but now that you’re moving and riding him as you need him, it’s all he can do not to give in to your minxy little rebellion.

“Jason- please, please. Just wanna- wanna cum so bad-”

Shit, the sweet sound of your tired voice sends chills all down Jason’s aching body, gnashing his teeth to withhold your desperate claws down his shoulders.

“[Y/N].”

“Jason-”

Using the last of his restraint, the redhead flames the light across the remaining stick of wax as close as he can, forcefully heating up the stick to a high degree. You’re bouncing on him, taking his cock all the way to the hilt each time, your thighs screaming for rest as they work over and over. Dropping the lighter onto his desk, Jason wraps around the small of your waist, holding you still for just a moment as he presses the stick of gooey hot wax right in the middle of your shoulder blades.

You cry out, pressing your bare chest as close to his as you can, and moan gutturally through the striking wave after wave of flashing pain. It’s only reasonable that he leaves you with a mark, the skin already turning red and blistered as the rest of the liquid dribbles down your spine and onto your flushed ass. It’s such a sight, your whines and labored cries moving closer to his ear as you nip at his neck. Jason groans, your lips pressing behind his blushing ears and sending chills down his body.

“Don’t cry when I give you what you want, my dear. I won’t- hah- I won’t stop now…” Wrapping his arms tight around your waist, Jason spreads his legs, digging his feet into the floor as he shifts your hips up onto him. You smile sickly, letting out a hearty moan when you feel his hips begin to snap up into yours, his cockhead ramming your cervix with cruel intent.

You gush around him, cunt shining with the sheen of your arousal and staining his nice clothes, the squelching, and slapping of built-up neglect obscene to listen to. The redhead claws against your back, fingernails digging into the trails of colorful wax and smearing the crusted liquid across your skin further. You huff, sobbing into his shoulder with every heavy thrust he delivers you, an even better punishment than the one before.

“Hah- Is it worth it? To be such a brat?” He pants, snagging a handful of your ass and digging his nails into the excess skin. You smile into his shoulder, sniffling your tears as the ache from your back subsides with the immense pleasure from your gut.

“Yeah.” You hum into his ear, nibbling the skin of his earlobe to make the man choke on his words. You dig your knees again, bouncing your ass down in time with his cock curving into the swell of your cervix and abusing the nerve over and over again.

Jason’s face is flushed, cheeks nearly matching the redness of his hair as his balls tighten and strain with every slap against your ass, his harrowing pace faltering just for a moment when you arch into it, tightening your gummy walls onto his veiny length. “Hn- My dear-”

Tears stain into his white button-up the same as the juices from your pussy stain his slacks, your cunt fluttering and constricting terribly tight around the hilt of his cock. Jason can feel his hips ache, his gut swell and knot every time the divot of his cock nudges your sensitive g-spot. He knows you’re close too, each bounce of your hips leaving you shaking for just a moment before you force yourself up to meet him again.

He leans close, sweat building across his brow as he pushes fiery strands out of his face to whisper close, “C’mon, dear, you wanted it so bad, now let me feel you cum with me inside, alright?”

It only takes a few more calculated thrusts up into your pussy before you’re snagging your fists into his hair, holding on for dear life as wave after wave of nauseating orgasms wracks your body. You cry into his shoulder, thick globs of tears staining your cheeks as your cunt clenches something awful around the thick girth still fucking its way inside you.

“Inside- inside, Jason- You’ve been in this long, don’ pull out now-” You choke, snarling into his neck.

That's all the poor, utterly feral redhead needs to cum. He’s clenching his eyes shut, digging his nails into the small of your back to force your hips impossibly closer down onto his cock as he delivers pulse after pulse of globs of cum up into your messy cunt. You rut your hips, riding out the crashing high that has Jason gripping you by the arms and forcing you off of his chest, staring with heavy, droopy eyes at the mess he’s made of you.

He trails his bright eyes down to the absolute mess of stains as his cock flinches and pulses, buried so snugly inside of you. You dizzily glance down, thighs still shaking as you’re met with the lewd sight of your pussy being absolutely stretched, lips so puffy and red as they grip so tightly around his girth. The sight is enough to make you moan again, weakly trying to sit your hips up and slide him out of you, desperate to see the mess he’s made inside also.

Until fingers dig into your hips, forcing you back down to the hilt and keeping you pistoned right there, unmoving. You feel the warmth of his cock back inside, cum soaking into your gooey arousal. “I’m not done just yet, my lady.”

Pushing you back against the workbench, Jason reaches for the lighter, another stick of wax held tight in his other hand. It’s not a moment before the droplets of fiery liquid are dripping onto your chest, running down the curve of your tits. His hips flex, nudging his cock in and out at a terribly infuriating pace, just barely reaching as far as it was.

“I say another round’s in order, don’t you, dear?”

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[monzamash]

needed me — lando norris

"sorry for the cuddling. i'm usually not this clingy." lando norris x you rating – mature; mostly fluff with a sprinkle of innuendo masterlist

The weekend had been rough. From beginning to end, it was a scrap for Lando – nothing going his way, no silver lining to salvage. Waste of fucking time, he growled once his helmet came off and was shoved into his trainer’s arms, barely even glancing your way. Disappearing into hospitality, never resurfacing until he was ready to leave the track. Alone.

Darkness blanketed the Bahrain skies, black clouds ominously looming above and painfully complimenting Lando’s race. It was poetic in a way and you found comfort in the dimly lit gloom, curling up in your hotel bed with a book and glass of wine. You needed it to distract you from the phone taunting you on the bedside table. No new notifications, no texts, no calls – radio silence from the one person you couldn’t stop thinking about.

The click of your hotel door opening made your heart skip, the shadow of the man you had become all too familiar with slinking up your walls until he appeared in the door way – all hoodie clad and cosy. You closed your book and sat up against the mountain of pillows, a soft smiling lining your lips as Lando shyly shuffled across the carpet beneath his sneakers.

“Am I gonna have to revoke your key card privileges?” You asked, watching him kick off his shoes and jumper while you flipped open your duvet, summoning him under the warm covers.

Lando shook his head, curls falling into his eyes as he sighed deeply and crawled in beside you, “Please don’t. I’ll never recover.”

You hummed in amusement, hanging your arm out over the pillows and pulling him into your side. He was warm to the touch always, nuzzling into your neck as soon as he was close enough – annoyingly clingy in the best way. He was your friend first, maybe more now but you never spoke about it.

Having him this close was all you needed, it was what you craved on those lonely nights and you assumed by the way he always came to your room after a long day that the feeling was mutual.

“I needed to see you… couldn’t sleep,” He whispered into the air, eyes focused on the intricately detailed ceiling above.

“Neither could I so you made the right call."

Your tone was light, almost airy and Lando was broken from his distant gaze and brought right back to you – a grin teasing his lips. The sudden realisation that you wanted him here hitting him like a tonne of bricks.

“Sleeping in your bed is always the right call.”

The blush that roared across your face was disguised by the darkness you laid in, fingers mindlessly brushing through his dense curls that tickled your cheeks. Lando’s fingertips drew shapes on the forearm that kept him tucked into your side – his mind finally slowing down enough to enjoy the silence. Comfortable, effortless silence that made him feel like he was home.

“You comfy?” You asked, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his nodding head.

Lando closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into your embrace, “Sorry for the cuddling – I’m usually not this clingy,” He whispered in return, causing your eyebrows to rise and a quiet scoff to slip from your lips.

You could see the devilish smirk plastered across his sweet face when you looked down, rolling your eyes and giving his curls a playful tug, eliciting a moan.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Your question wasn’t prying and Lando knew that – and maybe tomorrow in the harsh light of day he would have to but right now, with your soft, inviting lips taunting every ounce of self-control he had left, he shook his head. Subtle but you caught it, along with the glimmer in his eyes that told you he couldn’t bear to relive any of it this soon.

“Do you wanna kiss about it instead?” You asked, blinking a couple of times before Lando was lifting his head from your shoulder and meeting you in the middle.

“Yes please,” He mumbled before capturing your lips, hands grasping your face to bring you closer – desperation and adoration in every single searing kiss he pressed to your skin.

[atinylittlepain]

crying at night thinking about protective!joel getting angry when he finds out that you’ve started getting close to another man living in the boston QZ. and tess calling him out on his jealousy and obvious attraction to you.

tess to the rescue -- tesscue if you will

Looking

Joel Miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

He doesn't like the way she flirts with all their customers. But he's not jealous. No, definitely not jealous.

warnings | 18+ canon-typical violence, smutty implications, sexual harassment

.............................

“Since when is she running deals for us?” “Since all the feds like customer service with a smile.”

“Tess.”

“Is there a problem, Joel?” He grunts, taking one more look at her, the easy smile she’s giving the guard as she flicks some of her hair out of her eyes. He knows her well enough to know she’s putting on a show for this guy, and it makes his blood boil. Tess steps in front of him, blocking his view.

“Hey, is there a problem?” She enunciates each word slowly and clearly, obvious irritation in her voice. He shakes his head with a huff.

“No– no problem. Just don’t come to me when she gets herself killed by one of these fucking guards.” He shoves off the brick wall he had been leaning against, trudging off toward their apartment, not bothering to glance over to where she’s still playing it up to the guy. 

He tells himself that the only reason he’s pissed is that he still doesn’t trust her, the new addition to his and Tess’ smuggling operation, and he doesn’t want her pocketing pay behind their backs. But as the weeks go by of this new set-up, it becomes clear that he doesn’t need to worry about that. Whatever extra sweetness the FEDRA guards throw into their trades with her, she’s sure to share it with him and Tess. It had taken every ounce of his willpower not to laugh in elation when she brought home a bag of coffee the other day, offering it to him with the same smile she was giving to all their customers. Joel has no reason to be so pissed, so cold to her, at least no reason that he’d like to consider. Tess, however, seems to think otherwise.

“You keep staring like that and you’re gonna burn a hole through the back of her head.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tess snorts, nudging his shoulder with hers where they’re standing a bit further down the alley, both of them watching her finish another deal with another guard. 

“Joel, we’ve been partners for what– five years now? In all that time I’ve never seen the look you get when you’re looking at her so maybe cut the bullshit, yeah? Because she thinks that you hate her.” He scoffs, toeing his boots into the cracked asphalt.

“Don’t hate her– I just– don’t like the way she acts– with these boys. She’s gonna get herself– I don’t know– jesus–  will you just drop it?” Tess puts her hands up as if in surrender, a smirk that’s all too smug for Joel’s taste stamped across her face as she shuffles out of the alley. He settles back against the wall with a sigh, keeping his eyes fixed on her and the guard. How long does it take to trade some fucking pills?

She’s good at what she does, Joel will give her that, letting out breathy giggles as the guard smiles at her, running her hand down his forearm before waggling her fingers at him as she turns to leave, the bright facade she had been using immediately falling away as she looks to Joel with a firm but subtle nod. He presses off the wall as she falls into step beside him, both of them weaving through the crowded streets of the QZ back to the apartment building. She lives a door down from him, their proximity was what had originally drawn her into their business, but most of her time is spent in his apartment now, working out new deals and supply chains with Tess. 

“Extra ration cards on top of the agreed on payment. And a date. But I’m not sharing that perk with you, Miller.” He huffs at her teasing, keeping his eyes focused on counting out the cards as he slumps down onto the musty sofa in his apartment. Tess is nowhere to be found, most likely off running some sort of scheme elsewhere in the QZ. 

“Hardly call that a perk, darlin. Don’t know why you even entertain those boys. Ain’t nothing but trouble.” She sighs, tilting her head to rest on her shoulder as she looks at him.

“Those boys happen to have A-one access to any and all supplies you could possibly want. You can scowl all you want, Miller, but it pays to be on their good side.” 

“Well then, when’s this date of yours?” 

“Tonight, don’t wait up, Miller.” He scoffs, muttering a low “wouldn’t dream of it” as she’s already walking out the door.

…

“Joel, what the fuck are you doing? You’ve been standing at that window all night.” His head whips around, grimacing at Tess before he promptly goes back to scouring the darkened streets outside his window.

“It’s late. She should be home by now.” Tess scoffs.

“Oh please. You just don’t want to consider that maybe she’s not home because she’s getting laid right now. I say good for her, getting some action and some more supplies in one fell swoop.” Joel doesn’t like the sound of that at all, Tess’ words moving him away from the window to grab his jacket and head for the front door. 

“What’re you doing now?” He glances at her over his shoulder, already halfway out the door.

“I’m glad you think this is funny, really. But I don’t. I’m going to look for her.” He closes the door before he can hear Tess’ exasperated exclamation.

“Fucking lovesick fool.”

…

He’s not sure where he should be looking, quickly realizing how stupid this is. It’s past curfew, so he sticks to the alleyways, ducking under the bright lights of the patrol cars whenever they roll by. He makes it a few blocks away from their apartment building before the reality of how foolish he’s being sets in. Just as he’s getting ready to turn heel back home, his ears prick to a shuffling sound coming from deeper down the alley. He moves toward the sound, sliding along one of the walls of the alley to stay in the shadows. His stomach twists when he hears a voice.

“C’mon, baby. You were so friendly this afternoon. Just let me have a little peek, huh?” Her voice answers, clearly laced with a strained distress.

“Just- just stop. It’s past curfew, what if we get caught?” The man laughs, and it takes everything in Joel not to sprint down the alley and take him out right then.

“You don’t gotta worry about getting caught when you’re with me. I run these streets. Now I suggest you quit being a little bitch and give me what I want.” He finally catches sight of them, dim figures in the outer reaches of a lone streetlamp. The man has her cornered up against the wall of the alley, his hands tugging at her clothes as she tries to push him off.

Joel moves before he can think, and in the blink of an eye, he has the man on the ground, bringing his fist down again and again as rage washes over him. The only thing that finally stops his blind rampage is a firm hand on his shoulder. He takes a shuddering breath, looking down at the man’s now pummeled face, a mess of blood, before looking over his shoulder to meet her watery gaze.

“We need to leave before someone comes looking, c’mon.” Neither of them speak as they hustle through alleys to get back to the apartment, but she holds Joel’s bloodied hand the whole way, tugging him out of his anger-induced haze.

…

“You came looking for me.” Her voice is a faint murmur as she keeps her gaze focused on his hand, daubing at his split knuckles with a damp rag in the bathroom of his apartment. He’s trying not to think too hard about the way she’s kneeling between his legs where he’s sitting on the lip of the bathtub, but his breath still catches when she finally looks up at him.

“I did.”

“Why?” 

“I was worried about you.”

“What? Joel, you don’t even like me.” He swallows thickly and she huffs at his silence, getting back to work at cleaning his busted hand.

“That’s not true.” Her hands still and she looks up at him again.

“It isn’t?” He shakes his head.

“No, it’s not. I– I like you, I do. What I don’t like is how you act with all those boys. It just– it makes me– fuck, it makes me nervous.” She sits back, fully looking at him, her brows raised in surprise.

“You? Nervous?” He huffs, not missing the crooked ghost of a smirk that spreads over her face.

“Those boys are no good, darlin. It may seem like a game to you– swiping a few extra ration cards here and there with a bat of your eyes– but I’ve seen what they’re capable of. That’s why I went looking for you– because the thought of something– of him– I couldn’t–” His rambles die in his throat when she places her palm on his thigh.

“Thank you, Joel. For– helping me tonight. You were right, at least about this one.” Her eyes fall and Joel feels worry kicking back up in his chest, bringing his hand to her jaw and coaxing her to look at him.

“He didn’t try anything else, did he? Are you– are you alright?” She sighs, but nods, her cheek pressing lightly into his palm.

“I’m fine. Got there just in time, Miller.” His shoulders slump in relief.

“I don’t want you doing deals anymore.” She opens her mouth to protest, but he presses on.

“We do just fine without all the extras. If they want pills so bad they can go through me. Tess has some new connections on the border of Vermont, could use your help mapping a route, I’m guessing. But no more of that cute shit, alright?” She grins, and he immediately regrets that last bit.

“So what I’m hearing is, you like me and you think I’m cute.” He immediately takes his hand away from her face as she laughs, her eyes crinkling up at his grumbling expression.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to tease–”

“Oh, I think you do, darlin.” That makes her laugh again and Joel has to fight off his own crooked smile. She sighs, taking one more look at his knuckles before standing and tilting her head as she looks at him.

“That’s the best I can do for your hand–” Joel’s breath stutters when she bends over, resting a hand on his shoulder as she brings her lips to his good ear.

“And for the record, I like you too, Miller.” He swallows hard before speaking, worried that his voice might give away more than he’d like it to.

“You do?” She pulls away only slightly, looking him right in the eye as she nods.

“Call me crazy, but I like ‘em a little mean.” It happens so fast, he thinks he’s been electrocuted by the bright zap of her lips smacking a kiss to his cheek. She’s already out the door when he brings his palm to where her lips just were. 

Maybe Tess was right.

[capslocked]

PART & PARCEL

male reader x sana && tzuyu

18k words

“Is it too late?” Sana asks, and here’s how it always starts with her.

Nevermind that it’s not a question in search of an answer. A normal person could, should, text you. Hey, what’s up? or something equally inconspicuous before turning up the dial, are you busy? can I, like, come over? 

Instead, she’s at your doorstep again, twirling a bundle of honey-blonde between her fingertips as if she doesn't know what all that does to people. Some people say, incorrectly, that these are the hours of the night shared with ghosts. And to that you say: No, these hours belong to Sana, clearly, and apparently nobody fucking else. 

Now in a way, you do get it. It’d be easier to turn back over in your bed and ignore the elegant simplicity of a text message, or one step beyond that, do the unthinkable and finally tell her no, but when she’s standing there - there with that face, like a thousand different excuses or a million little reasons why she needs something from you, right now - and all she has to do is push her lips together, eyebrows going high - 

It is a bit like magic, after all, this feeling when she comes around. 

Everything that happened before - her visits, the first one and then the next - no matter how impossible, gets washed away, and suddenly all you have is her. Her voice, her hair, and a sneaking suspicion that the time apart really isn’t such a bad thing, because you don't always have a guess as to what comes next.

Of course, you were always going to let her in.

“I saw the lights were on,” she adds, starting to shrug off her coat like she knows you will.

“I mean, I’m here,” you say, non-committal.

“Yeah. I can see that.”

The door's half open and the only substantial hesitation you have is when you peer over her shoulder. There’s another girl, propping herself up against the doorframe, with a pretty head of glossy, sable hair falling gracefully down her shoulders, and she looks at least a few years younger than Sana. You smile cautiously at her before giving Sana another, much longer glance. In response, you receive a wink that's as subtle as a brick through a glass window (which only raises more questions). You ask the one that seems most important.

What else would Sana, of all people, possibly want to bring you if not some plaything or another. You've seen it all: girls who liked her money, girls who liked her body, girls who just flat-out liked girls, whatever. The dynamic always seemed to be, as long as everyone is having a good time, nothing to get hung up about - because at the end of the night, everyone comes around to Sana again.

And she comes around to you. 

Why question it.

“This is a little… irregular,” you say with a nod of your chin, as you step back from the door. "Who's the plus one?"

Sana motions the girl in with a sweep of her hand and throws you another disarmingly flirtatious smile - the same one that'd first left you utterly hooked by this strange person, who had, when you first met, walked into your life for five minutes, then fucked your lights out the way she wanted. She goes further with this, of course, teasing a warm smile and slanting an eyebrow.

"I figured I'd bring you a gift," she coos, in this sultry, dusky sing-song of a voice that really needs no followup whatsoever, other than maybe take my clothes off right now, as she makes a show of how she's pushing her shoulders back, like there's an audience to be impressed with the curve of her bust. "Since we were celebrating."

"Uh-huh. What's the occasion?"

"Whatever the hell you'd like," Sana chirps.

With that, she takes you by the collar. And even though the girl she brought is in the middle of, like, peering around curiously in your foyer, Sana leans up on the balls of her feet and kisses you hard. It's a real kiss - no preamble - which is sort of funny, given you would have been more than okay with some. So, naturally, you're caught entirely off-guard. It takes a full ten, fifteen seconds of feeling her hot little mouth pressed insistently up against yours, your mind gone blank with the suddenness of the moment. Your body taking it for granted.

Meanwhile, the other girl blinks - long, dark lashes batting the curve of her cheekbones slowly until Sana has moved to stand in front of her with the full, earnest intention to cup her jaw, tilt her head down a smidge, and kiss her too (very thoroughly, also, in her own way).

Sana lets the girl go with a sharp draw of air and a peck. Then she looks at you, just this side of playful. The way her teeth flash over her bottom lip suggests how she's enjoying, to her bones, this state of affairs: a dalliance with control, with desire, where she can flaunt it.

She tells you to relax, unwind, which you suppose is code for taking another of Sana's friends and bending her over every horizontal surface in your flat and fucking someone the way you've wanted for the last however-long it's been since Sana dropped back into your life. You've done as much. Some rotating cast of characters: Mina, Chaeyoung, Nayeon, the raven haired girl with the perfect tits; some names and faces starting to run together the more Sana pops up at your place with a girl under one arm, usually looking half bored and half shy - or at least putting up some pretense that might justify Sana telling them to strip down while she's already eyeing you with this look like she's wondering which article of clothing you'll be ripping off her first.

"Does she have a name?" you ask, with a nod vaguely in her direction. Of course it's a loaded question. What's her name doesn't matter. You don't know most of their names.

But when you do a double-take, remembering to steal a good look, you're not sure you've ever seen anyone pull off that perfect little white dress quite the way she does - the kind that goes right up the back, tucked under the neck, sleeves coming to a neat point across her fingers. Sana may or may not have a thing for pretty girls in cute dresses, but this is, without question, the most obvious bribe you've ever witnessed in your life.

Sana's still smirking - so much for being considerate, you think for a second, until you’ve got a dainty hand stretched into yours like you’re brushing up with royalty. And well, maybe you’re getting a better look now that she isn’t bathed in the calm, assured wickedness that two A.M. might only ever know - the dark curling like wind around her fingers and down the lines of her spine, cajoling.

She is gorgeous.

And she says - 

“Chou Tzuyu,” in this charming little voice that’s even more mesmerizing than you anticipated, this taut thread winding itself up between the two of you. She says her name with a gentle sigh, a light in her eyes that you know, intimately, not to trust, but you get the sense that she'd rather you make an exception for her - or at least for the night. “Everyone calls me Tzuyu.”

You feel a squeeze at your fingers, an anxious reminder from Sana's thumb, as if she feels the reverie in which you've lapsed. It draws you back, just slightly so.

"Tzuyu," you say, taking mental note of the faint smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth when you do. "How much do you know?"

She twists in Sana's direction, and oh, look how eager and innocent and coquettish Tzuyu's making herself in front of her, smiling. What do I say, the gesture is asking. You can see her effort to hold back a giggle or two as she bites her lip, trying, as all the pretty girls who come through these doors often try, to come up with something cute and modest and small that'll allow you and Sana to picture exactly the right thing. You can tell when a person is not used to having an audience.

"I know Sana..." Tzuyu's voice trails as she gives Sana a furtive glance. "She talks about you a lot. And I figured, you know."

"What? That we were good friends?"

"Sure," Tzuyu laughs to herself lightly again. "Whatever makes it easier."

Sana has her fingers threaded beneath Tzuyu’s chin, studying her like she’s an artifact that belongs behind glass. Expensive. One of a kind. And oh-so-excessively fragile.

The way Sana touches her, she may be trying to prove the point, guiding her body's angles and edges towards whatever form she sees fit, with just fingertips and the slightest tug, showing you exactly how malleable the girl can be. The look on Tzuyu's face is hardly discomfited when her dress slides past the dips of her shoulders or the slope of her waist, when the fabric gets crumpled in Sana's hand like the most expensive balled-up tissues in the universe. You can't decide what animal comes to mind: perhaps a deer, some cute, unknowingly doomed elk.

"No underwear," you note, watching.

Sana draws herself a little closer to Tzuyu with an appreciative gaze, lips gently landing at her shoulders, neck.

"Why bother?" Tzuyu muses. "What were we going to use them for?"

A pull here, a tug there, and the dress puddles around Tzuyu's feet, silk shimmering like the inky dark of a starless sky. And just shy of a pedestal and perhaps a fucking moonbeam, she's the spitting image of perfection: porcelain skin stretching out over a masterwork of curves and bone and muscle. A sculpture, a study in the form that so frequently leaves people just absolutely dumbstruck and thirsty in their wake.

Sana trails her hand around the width of her hip - drawing your eye along the skin of her leg, up and around the perfectly curved thigh - stopping to splay her fingers just so at the base of her spine, as if in demonstration of ownership. Like this: mine.

"Don't get it confused," Sana tells you. "The whole naive innocence thing is a total fucking misdirection."

"Tzuyu," you say again, this time noticing the way it feels in your mouth, syllables sweet and sticking to its roof like honey - maybe something more of an excuse to move forward and touch her yourself, palm her face, brush your thumb over her bottom lip. A taste, something subtle but intense, spreads to the back of your throat, the moment her teeth graze gently over its pad. "Is that true?"

"Are you asking me what kind of girl I am?"

"I didn't put it exactly like that."

"Just answer, sweetheart," Sana says, brow quirked in a faux-display of nonchalance, fingers still pressed, spreading gently at her neck. She's enjoying this a little too much. Though, you're enjoying this too. It doesn't have to be an either-or kind of scenario.

"It's better if you say it," she adds after a second of consideration, and even though it's obvious by now she's only prodding and that this is a foregone conclusion, Tzuyu puts an emphatic twitch in her lips - red, wet, a vision in crimson - like the thought is deeply troubling and will likely require lots and lots of thorough explanation later.

"Fine, okay, in that case," Tzuyu starts with a weary sigh, and then with a blink-and-you've-missed-it flash of a smirk, there's no way anyone's buying any of this, "I’ll say: I'm whatever kind of girl you want me to be."

Sana was right, and she didn’t even need to go so far as to say it. It’s clear - you want her.

But it's half as easy to pinpoint where it all starts: there's the way Tzuyu melts, sinking just that much further when you guide your hands around the curve of her ribs, fingers following the flow of her soft edges, the slopes and valleys of her breasts, and she parts her lips even before yours touch the seam of her mouth, her breath warm, heavy, the kind of anticipation that sends jolts down her neck, her spine, the body electric - a real live wire.

Or, it's because of the way she likes it - like, really likes it. There's something exceptional in a girl who will wrap her legs around your waist and suck your tongue and whimper just by a feather's touch around her hips or between her thighs, where it's damp and hot and holy shit, this is unreal in a very tactile, visceral way. There's no mistaking the noise for anything but genuine pleasure when Tzuyu's trying, unsuccessfully, to bite down the whine sneaking up her throat and into your mouth - where you're kissing her, still - the kind that presses heavy at the bottom of your stomach.

Or, there's Sana yet, pulling her clothes off, and instead of leaving a trail in her wake, folds each piece neatly until she's bared down to this fine little number of lace and cream-colored silk that'd make your head spin if you weren't, y'know, pretty busy, mouth occupied by Tzuyu's pliant moans, both of your tongues colliding.

"God," Tzuyu groans out quietly as you pin her to the wall, and again after another string of kisses, sucking your lip. 

There are fleeting moments that slip through like sunlight that have you thinking: Right, this was a good idea, nothing other than a sweet girl like this all messed up and squirming with the shallow dig of your nails. But only close to perfect.

Sana will explain it.

"Mm. Not god." Sana is grinning when she leans up for the same kiss, but she takes her time with it: mouth slotted tight against Tzuyu's as her long fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of Tzuyu's neck, working her grip up slowly so that the strain gets more noticeable until the girl is a gasp on a choke of breath. The curve of her back is drawn out by that same hand and her ribs pressed, pert and rosy, into the cool air.

"Sir, and please," Sana then instructs, voice just harsh enough for Tzuyu to understand. 

You might imagine she's also drawing in with her nails, teeth, a full-body drag up her exposed front, like some kind of prize, marking and tasting and fucking every inch. There's a whimper, desperate sound of, yes, right, fuck, please, and sir slipping like a sigh off the edge of Tzuyu's tongue. 

"Or better yet," Sana adds, with another searing press into the junction of her collarbone, "say daddy, please," then follows through on the plea with another slow-pull.

You try not to roll your eyes. It's Sana's kink, not yours. It's a whole thing. And with Sana, like most things, you find it best when you simply play along.

More than that, you indulge her. You both do.

"Okay, daddy." Tzuyu's teeth catch the corner of her mouth in a self-amused bite. Twisting and twisting the swell of her lip further until it snaps forward. "I want you to tell me something," she says, which, for the way this typically goes, is a little more self-assured and pressing than the usual fare. Even Mina, who was perhaps less than enthusiastic about the - uh - title in question, came around eventually when she had Sana's fingers, your cock, all sunk so deep inside her she forgot what any fucking words were anyway.

So maybe Sana does know what she's doing with this one. Maybe you oughta thank her.

Tzuyu just lifts her chin, says, "this isn't what I expected when I showed up here."

"Obviously, it's not," Sana says.

"What I mean is, this is all good fun, of course," Tzuyu explains. A charming indignance that slips past, like the fingers down her belly. She swallows hard, muscles clenching as your palm runs slow over a hip, squeezing. "Though I guessed when we left Sana's, I would've been bouncing on his cock five minutes ago."

Sana's lithe little frame ends up closer - nearly naked in lace and wholly difficult to miss. She's a half head shorter than the girl in front of you, but with a tilt of her chin and a beckon of her hand, it's a powerful look about the lines of her face: eyes slightly hooded, mouth curved and devastating. It's as if, at every hour of the night, the simplest glance will have the fabric of someone's clothing coming undone, regardless.

Tzuyu is just slowly trading looks between the two of you. So curious. "So what then, do I have to do," her words curl like smoke up her throat, "to get fucked by both of you, hm? In, like, the next five or ten more minutes, preferably."

"He's not going to fuck your brains out simply because you ask." Which by the way, is the first real lie Sana tells tonight.

Tzuyu is unimpressed, or maybe she's a stoic. "Clearly," she deadpans.

Whatever the expression is that is fluttering those gorgeous lashes, eyebrows pulled down, adds a faint mark of distrust across her brow. The prettiest scoffs you've ever heard. "Isn't the point to get me spread out on your sheets so you can use me like a little fucktoy?"

A sigh from Sana: heavy, calculated. She does not reply in any obvious way to that, no flimsy assurances that it would be whatever the hell Tzuyu likes (though you think maybe Sana might want to take this whole fucking opportunity, all this thinly veiled begging for it, for the first taste of what will probably be the main thing that'll hold her over the edge of an orgasm or two). 

So, instinctually, Tzuyu pushes it, just enough - she tilts her head, and the motion is followed by a wide sashay of her hips as she gently presses a fingertip to your chest, encouraging a step back to better your balance, like the pull between you has a little more gravity.

"Don't go quiet on me." Another sultry note pulls from her mouth when she guides you another foot - or however many, until the foyer opens up into your living room. The chair, the sofa, a table, you watch her eyes wander like she's mapping the territory. And then finally she drops her hands from your shoulders, reaching instead for Sana, taking her waist in her palms.

Holding her. Kissing her.

There's a delicateness about both of them, clearly, and not only how Tzuyu angles their lips, as if she doesn't fully intend for the two to merge but instead taste the line, test the edges, or something; but Sana doesn't fight this. In fact, when Sana's being drawn gently, but confidently into a deeper, harder press, a very eager give, her eyes slip closed. There's a war, and Sana - though she'd be the last to admit it - is losing.

Tzuyu, at the end of a particularly sharp draw of air, simply turns to you, eyes peeking over the tousle of copper hair atop Sana’s head, and asks: "How does daddy want to play with his toys?"

It clicks in your head immediately: she's a natural, could be an actress, maybe a pro - you have no idea where Sana found her - even if that doesn't exactly match with the diction; daddy, and sir, and the baby-girl pout. There are the things she does to Sana, this slipstream of control passed back and forth and back and forth again - a fevered tugging, the give of one or the other. An entirely different dance. Beautiful, fluid, intense.

Eventually, it lands in your lap. Literally and metaphorically. Tzuyu looks up from where she's kneeling between your legs and with a little pinch of your hips, tells you with that intoxicately sweet, melodic voice of hers, that you seem like the sort who wants someone who just takes initiative.

And she's right.

"May I?" she asks, breathlessly, fingers at the zip.

"Of course,” Sana answers for you, settling into her side like you both belong to her. Like she’s about to enjoy this just as much as you are.

What does the room sound like, the darkness giving away? Everything. The hum of the appliances, the purr of the heat, something in the walls is settling into its final position for the night as the floorboards sigh. Breathing. Listening.

What you don't hear:

Chou Tzuyu moving - whether she shifts onto her knees, or adjusts how her slender fingers fall from the waist of your pants, doesn't matter - no crunch, no shuffle. She doesn't swipe away the hair from her eyes or drag the pad of a thumb over her swollen, bottom lip. All she does is pull, just a bit, and the zipper breaks the silence, comes apart down the way.

Sana clears her throat gently, hoping, possibly, that Tzuyu might be the kind of girl who just loses herself to the moment, caught in the headlights. The way every delicate, doe-eyed girl is supposed to do. Sana likes them a little helpless like that - makes her feel big.

It's too bad really, because Tzuyu doesn’t appear like she's awash with anything in particular. Or at the very least, she's done a fairly convincing imitation of not being the slightest bit off-put, completely disarmed or whatever Sana had been looking to see.

She does look up though. Long, pretty face still managing a bit of devastation from this angle. Those full lips slightly pouted and slick in red: such an inviting color against her pale skin.

"Sana," she coos, eyes wide and brilliant - innocent, yet taunting all at once - and she's deliberate in what she says next, flitting her tongue across her canines to punctuate every sound: "Isn’t daddy going to use me now?"

"Oh." Sana leans in, eyes flicking up at you, Tzuyu's hands, her body, and starts slowly, like she's exacting a punishment, "Tzuyu, baby," her own anticipation beaming off the surface of her thousand-kilowatt grin, "you're going to take that perfect cock," the words dripping off Sana's tongue, heavy, sweet, "you're going to take it, get your pretty little lips all over it sweetie, you're going to show him just how good you can use that filthy fucking hole of a mouth for him. You're going to take him until he cums in your throat, and then you're going to beg him for more. And if you can do that, well. Then we’ll fuck you exactly how you wanted."

Tzuyu blinks - doting and innocent like the angel everyone probably thinks she is.

But then what you've learned about the angels that Sana brings you: they're devils in disguise, well familiar with the sin and lust that resides in these places; sunk into the cushions of the couch, pressed against the cold pane glass of a window, wound tight in the springs of a mattress. You had long thought - and think, you do, particularly when doing the unthinkable - it's easier that way, to leave aside thoughts of right and wrong and ask: Just how far can an angel fall?

"Ah. Perfect," Tzuyu says, sounding like an answer, and her eyes widen as she peels past that band of elastic.

Your cock springs forward and bumps into the pad of her finger, which traces the length of it like it's hers to own, to pleasure.

"God," she hums with satisfaction, and even without looking up, or even before you say a damn word, she draws her tongue up along the underside in one swift, wet lick. "Sana you weren’t exaggerating: daddy's cock is fucking gorgeous."

There is that tiny whine, or more precisely a tiny, oh fuck when Tzuyu curls her hand around your shaft. Sana gives her a push. "Say it, Tzuyu," she all but growls at her.

"Daddy," she says, always pausing on the word. Testing it further. "Please."

"Please," Sana mimics in faux-sweetness, repeating it again once you start to nod.

Not that it changes much - the stare that Tzuyu fixes you is charmingly determined, like a challenge. Then, she inhales.

Deep.

That slide into her mouth is smoother than anything, hot and slippery and oh, right - you remember faintly with a shudder: those pretty teeth hidden away behind a perfectly lascivious mouth, so much that a couple sharp, expert brushes are enough to send lightning dancing along your spine. Sana moves her hands across your hips, to the buttons on your night shirt, working her way up until the fabric has fallen to the side and she can open your chest up to the air, let Tzuyu swallow the rest.

This, Tzuyu likes. "Ah," she gasps around you, or she tries to, your cock propped up on her soft little tongue.

She likes the way that feels. The way you fit in her hands, her mouth. And it shows. Her posture curls deliciously, under the satisfaction of her lips wrapping finally having something to wrap around tight, tight, tighter - under Sana's roaming touches, the skirting of her nails down Tzuyu's chest, reaching with slow deliberation across her stomach until there's a whisper of skin across sensitive flesh.

“She’s so fucking wet,” Sana tells you, smiling at Tzuyu from above and fitting a fingernail between her teeth. "Good fucking girl, aren't you Tzuyu?"

The moan that leaks out around the weight of your cock is pure. Pure lust, pure pleasure. Pure perfection. Her tongue flattens beneath you and finds you surging even deeper, a firmer slide of Tzuyu's wet lips that brings you right into the roof of her mouth - as she twists her face around you, a soft scrape against the inside of her cheek.

You sigh.

And Sana sighs back.

"Of course. Always such a hidden talent," she notes, as Tzuyu's perfect mouth moves and plucks and teases your nerves, twirling her tongue around your tip. Again as she swallows you down, slow, savoring.

“Tell me,” you say, because the heat of Tzuyu’s mouth is starting to remind you of a daydream, “how exactly do you know each other?”

"Work," Sana answers, flatly.

"Like-"

"Yup."

"She sings?"

"She does - rather, she will." Sana glances sidelong with a bit of a grin. "You have no idea what that tongue can do to people when it's got some good backing tracks, when it knows a goddamn fucking thing about rhythm. Speaking of," Sana looks down at where Tzuyu has her silky brown head of hair bobbing between your legs.

And then it's clear what she means, Tzuyu humming and rolling your shaft through the flat of her tongue. It's all slick, soaking heat and the tension building and building in your balls, aching, just absolutely desperate for more friction, to be taken and used and stuffed in her throat - or just more of this.

"Here," Sana's fingers are hooked in your pants, helping them off your legs, your ankles, pulling you further to the edge of the sofa. Let me, she's telling Tzuyu, this slight murmur of want she just can't wait on.

"Wait, I'm -" Tzuyu attempts, pulling her lips off the curve of your cock, to where pre-cum is weeping out of its tip, and she kisses it so very tenderly, going back for round two. Round three. She floats her fingers up over her eyebrows, into her fringe, all to tuck some dark, wispy hair gently behind her ear when she starts to hollow her cheeks and again suck your cock in earnest.

Until -

"Tzuyu," Sana reprimands her, "don't play, daddy's got his work cut out for him tonight. So be a good girl, and let me show you what he likes."

It takes a second, maybe three. It might take longer if Sana didn't have her fingernails digging into her thighs, sliding further to grab hold of Tzuyu by the hair and pull her lips off your shaft. There's a thin trail of spit coming off her mouth and stringing across you. Sana closes her fist in the back of Tzuyu’s hair and doesn't so much as blink while studying the look on her face: lips glistening, just absolutely needy, like she can't help the whimper in her throat.

"Hm?" Sana cocks her head to the side.

"But... sir."

"You are his toy," Sana explains, flashing her eyebrows because apparently it needs to be said, "not the other way around."

And it may be the first time you've seen it happen since Sana walked in with Tzuyu and declared her intentions: the fluster, the pink spread across Tzuyu's features like some scarlet-lettered stain. Defenses dropped like a draw-bridge. She's not quite every bit as cool and composed as she wants the two of you to think she is. (They never are.)

But the fact that Tzuyu's coy little smile returns into her lips - how she's wiping the spit off her mouth with the sharp edge of her hand and pointing your cock in Sana's direction with a delicate, arched brow, how she then moves on, untangling herself from Sana's grasp, eyes heavy, but on her - is a marvel in and of itself.

It’s an amusing surprise, a welcome one, for the simple reason that Tzuyu keeps showing both of you that she can have anything she wants exactly like this: wrapped around a slender fingertip, flushed and helpless, and without breaking a sweat. 

"Have you considered daddy wants both our mouths on his cock and maybe a few less words?" Tzuyu scoffs. And even though Sana does scoff right back in retort, that's exactly how it plays out.

(And you may, upon occasion, reflect: you're a real lucky bastard.)

Sana always puts on this act. One that you’ve learned to see right through. 

Like she isn't too eager to follow the momentum, that she hadn't just been just as impatient to touch you - to be on her knees with Tzuyu, all aside this beautiful girl who gives you a pretty smile when her tongue finds the base of your cock. Who likes being bossed around but can just as easily turn her face towards yours - in what seems almost like a taunt - as if saying: You know what else I like? to be challenged, and sometimes when the mood’s right, pushed and punished. 

But Sana doesn't let you see what kind of resolve she has until she's gone another minute, licking, lapping her tongue around your cock - this is her idea, after all. The little white dress in a heap, the adoration and worship that comes with fucking girls she knows are the prettiest things to see ruined.

Listen - even if Sana’s veneer is as blatantly obvious as it is shatterably thin, she’s no less dangerous. 

When she first pushes the very head of your cock inside her mouth, and just that - because why rush it, she's so fucking perfect with those pretty lips - the rest of your brain is shouting something to the tune of fuck me sideways because she knows you better than anyone, knows what really gets your blood burning. 

A few slow brushes, one kiss, this lick that goes bottom to top and over and around. It’s like she's testing the surface, dragging her lips across your aching cock as she settles on a rhythm, a tempo that starts to mirror the movements of Tzuyu's hand.

Tzuyu lets you see: this slow twist, this slide of skin up and down the length of your shaft, her soft fingers rubbing tight circles up and down the path of her palm until it meets Sana’s mouth. And like it’s the most simple thing in the world, she dips down, finds a place at the base of your cock, where Sana’s lips can’t quite reach, and drops a hot, messy kiss right across the spot.

Fuck.

She kisses you everywhere.

"Sana," you start to say, and she looks up through the strands of blonde fallen slightly in front of her face. Her lips sink further down the length of your cock - until she hears your breath catch in the bottom of your throat. Until she’s pulling you up and out, again, just barely past her teeth.

Fuck.

"Mm." She hums it right into your skin, and her eyes are hooded, dipping right down with another pull of spit, and then another, before her lips are at the tip once more, flicking across the slit with her tongue - wet and rough.

"Sana," you try again, biting into your lip as you reach a hand into the gold locks of hair framing her deceptive, pretty little face, and tug, a warning, a reminder. You need. It's too early for you to be repeating yourself, and Sana knows that.

A pop, the release of her mouth slipping off the top of your cock, and Tzuyu moves - wrapping her lips tight and silken around the sides, the rest. It all happens in an instant. You're being taken with the sudden, harsh suction of one mouth, the other, fluid and slipping back and forth again and again.

Sana's nodding along, impressed, as she watches Tzuyu take you - completely, nose to your hip - and has a glint of pure hunger shining through her eyes when you hiss, when she kisses along the lines of Tzuyu's stretched lips. There's another flick of a tongue, and you can feel Tzuyu moan something muffled and choked, a frantic pulse at the base of your spine - pressure gathering like a fucking flood.

"Just how you like it, hmm?" Sana says, her breath warm on your balls as she seals her own mouth right over the base of your shaft. And you swear there's something about this: the drag and suck of both their lips as your hips stutter forward, the feeling of them pressed together in a perfect line, heads tilted and mouths fucking dripping with saliva and sin - your hands, resting on the backs of their heads as they're returning you these greedy little moans that vibrate off the top of your cock and nearly kill you in the process.

“Tell me,” Sana adds, dragging a hot, hazy kiss over the sensitive skin up your shaft. "How's daddy feeling? Hmm? Feels nice and perfect, doesn't it. Feels like you could just let go and release, a hot, sticky load of cum, right down her fucking throat. I know she’ll swallow every drop."

"Fucking hell, Sana-"

Sana doesn't exactly answer to your begging, only hikes Tzuyu a fraction higher over your body to gain better control of the rhythm, and a better view: the hollowed out cheeks, her watery, half-shut eyes, tears welling in her lashes - because the prettiest girls always come apart in the most perfect ways.

You grip into all that silky brown hair, thumb running gently up and over the soft skin behind her ear as she finds an exacting little movement with her lips that will have your spine twitching uncontrollably as you fuck deeper down the perfect arch of her throat, Sana keeping rhythm, guiding you all the way in - a searing heat, and then a new rush of saliva dripping off Tzuyu's chin and back down into the tangle of tongues, fingers, throats, mouths.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The pair of them. The things they're doing.

"Or maybe," Sana muses, tilting her head on an angle that suggests she's weighing her options, and then, massaging a quick, firm twist into the very base of your cock she finally lets spill: "You could make a mess of that perfect face," Tzuyu's faint whimper hardly slips out unnoticed, "I'd hold her hair for you while you cum all over her - how about that baby, should we make a big mess of your pretty face?"

The whimper grows louder - Tzuyu moans long and low, right up against the tightening tension gathering between your hips, right as your balls pull, that familiar coil about to break - and, god, if there's some part of you committed to holding the moment, waiting and wanting to stay in the vision of these two perfect mouths pressed together, it's a fleeting and useless notion - but, as usual, Sana already knows.

The way they're blowing you in perfect tandem, their mouths locked together, kissing around your shaft as they continue to pleasure you, filthy and open - a little more, the thought percolates, a little longer, to let the pressure swell.

"Sir," Tzuyu says, swallowing her next breath, and that's the first you've heard her sound like that: whining, pleading.

She slaps your cock against her lips, her tongue - it's all so wet with spit and precum and slick that her chin is coated, her fingers. A demonstration of what you should have already known: Sana's girls aren't just straight down the line. They want the messy, roughness that comes with the sin; the split in the seam, the wail, the raw, uncut want.

You watch Tzuyu’s lips curl, this quiet smile pressed against your cock, and after a slow draw of air, they fall open again. Asking, "aren't you going to fuck your toy's slutty little mouth?"

The silence of the night swallows up the sounds of Sana's low chuckle and the responding squelch of her fingers tearing free, her hand trailing after. Here’s three bodies in the otherwise ordinary emptiness of your living room, on the edges of the leather sofa, so completely drenched in anticipation and hunger.

There’s a flash across Sana's rounded cheeks, hot, like she's just this small space shy of smirking, or giving into something, you don't know. Tzuyu, however, you've got a fairly clear view of - how her eyes glaze, pupils going wide and dark, staring up at you as she places the shape of your cock so acutely up the length of her perfect features: chin supporting its base, the cute, button-like tip of her nose teasing the soft underbelly of skin pulled taut - a fucked up preamble to whatever the hell it is going to feel like, once she's ready for more.

"Say please, sweetie," Sana says, fluttering her fingers over Tzuyu's neck. And then to you, as an aside: "If there isn't a better way to break in a toy."

When Tzuyu doesn't immediately reply, Sana leans over her, with a fingertip under her chin, guiding her hot, wet lips to the edge of your cock.

"Ask daddy to fuck his filthy little whore."

"Ah," Tzuyu lets out an awkward exhale. "Daddy?" she pauses to swallow, licking her lips, then, with just the slightest inflection, this tight line, right at the border, somehow managing to hit both notes of I'm going to make you beg for it and is it okay for me to be begging you for more: "Please, daddy. Fuck my face."

But then the way she fucking looks - petulant, needy, like if you don't shove your cock down her throat in seconds it could kill her - that's the realest thing you've seen from her since she shuffled through your front door wearing a dress that belongs in someone's heaving, pent up fantasy and left it in a careless pile in the middle of your foyer, tits bouncing on her way into the living room. And somehow, that's a lot to take in: to think this whole debacle has led up to her, this girl you're probably never gonna see again, pressing the pucker of her perfect, pretty lips to the underside of your cock, and -

"Open," Sana cuts in, "your fucking mouth."

Tzuyu gulps thickly and stretches her jaw, blinking expectantly as her pink, slender tongue sticks out the faintest, most insinuating inch.

You lift your hips with one good thrust, the plushness of her mouth becoming soft and velvet as she opens wider, and wider still, and you're balls deep, hilt hitting her lips as she opens her eyes, taking you down her throat, slick and slow.

"Good girl," Sana grins, watching Tzuyu swallow around you. 

You may be buried into her throat but the sound of Sana's encouragement has Tzuyu keening, this wrench in her brow like she wants to focus so fucking badly. Only made worse when Sana bundles a handful of Tzuyu's long, glossy hair into a fist and gets her voice into the shell of her ear. 

"I know you love it, Tzuyu, how he's fucking taking you, huh? That's it. Show daddy how good of a toy you can be."

And oh, the reaction - the very clear one, no less. Tzuyu grips onto the cushion of the couch, a full set of fingers curling around Sana's forearm, any part of you - the one closest and she's digging her sharp nails into your skin and whimpering for Sana to keep talking like her life depends on it.

"Let me see if you can be as good as you think you are," Sana murmurs, and you shift forward again, bucking your hips just barely but getting there, and then there's more, fuck - getting closer to a good steady pace. Slow, forceful. Hitting the very back of her throat, the bottom of her lips.

Tzuyu can only respond by taking you impossibly deep.

"Remember what you told me?" Sana's biting her lip, finding as much satisfaction out of the mere display.

"Mnnph," Tzuyu chokes out before slipping off your cock, only long enough to gasp for another breath, "I said, I said - all the things I would let him do to me." Her voice sounds so wrecked. Broken. Desperate. Filthy, the kind that needs to be fucked. "Please, please," she says again.

"Tzuyu." Sana's fist tightens in Tzuyu's hair, and down Tzuyu goes. "You sounded so sure, baby - when you said you'd making him fucking cum so easy, how you'd make him bust over and over with this mouth, so -"

You're getting too close. It's really not your fault, it's the two of them. Every wince on your face a result of Tzuyu's swollen, shiny lips wrapped tightly around your cock, cheeks flush and hollow with every move of her mouth. She keeps doing this little flick of her tongue as her lips slide around you - even while Sana lifts her jaw up, down, up down, fucking her mouth onto your aching cock with a sort of callous disregard for how it's fucking her up - how it's fucking you up.

"-the prettiest girls make the best fucking cumrags, you know. Really - makes your toes curl," Sana finishes, giving one particularly pointed tilt of her head at the sight of how bad your knees are shaking.

And then, out the corner of her mouth, teeth locked over her lip, because you're so caught up in how good it feels fucking your length through the vice of Tzuyu's mouth, sliding across her wet tongue - "she's not lying baby, is she? Fuck, I bet she feels so fucking good on you doesn't she" - her voice hoarse and desperate, a hint of something caught at the back of her throat like she can almost taste what it's like. What it must feel like.

Sana pushes, and even she can probably feel you pulsing at the way Tzuyu chokes when the tip meets the drain of her throat.

It gets... it ends up too much, too fast. Borderline abusive - and not just the speed, or the sheer roughness - Nayeon was here on her knees, like this, in the middle of the night not too long ago, and deepthroating you is far from the unusual or accomplished, at this point. But, fuck if that isn't something you build up to.

The slight curve of Tzuyu's arms, rising as they tremble with the effort, the little tears that slip down her cheeks, and those lovely sounds she makes. It's not at all intentional - and you're so stupidly certain Sana didn't think you'd be this riled so quickly, like there's not an ounce of willpower in the world that could save you at this point.

And while that's not too surprising on its own - Sana knows you well, this is what she agreed to - Tzuyu must have understood (it was part of the plan, in fact) what she was walking into, what she was signing up for. But fuck it: she was still pretty new, an amateur. And an amateur just wouldn't be capable of doing the things she does, and looking the way she looks, not to the same extent as this.

"Can you cum from nothing but the feeling of daddy's dick hitting your throat? I'll have him sit back and relax while we work," Sana tells her.

It'd make two of you.

"Would you like that?" she's asking you, tilting her head when you've gathered yourself long enough. "No touching, just take my orders while we pleasure you. How does that sound, daddy?"

"Sana, easy," you practically growl, biting down on the inside of your cheek because the twitch in Tzuyu's pulse has you coming far too undone, her chest hitching and lungs heaving and face wet with spit and tears and cum as it's spilling down her chin. You're seconds from telling Sana to dial it back when a low, guttural sound, sputtering, leaves Tzuyu's throat.

The grip in Tzuyu's hair goes loose enough that she pulls herself up, swallowing up as much air as she can. 

And fuck, look at the damage: that swollen mess of her red, glistening mouth; the dark runs of mascara and drying tracks that make a ruin of her face, her neck; a heart-stopping shine of white drool. She blinks the tears off her lashes in a moment.

Sana’s eyeing her over the same way a surgeon might approach a task with a scalpel and a careful hand, or perhaps a fisherman surveying the quality of a catch - before tossing it to the back of a truck to be hauled back home. Like the kind of sight she gets just a little too much satisfaction at. And it's the eyebrow she shoots up into her mess of toffee-blonde hair that asks, quietly, too much?

Fuck. Maybe.

But Tzuyu's eyes shift toward Sana's, and without even an ounce of hesitation - without anything more than a heavy exhale - she opens her mouth again so you can see her tongue run across her top teeth, incensed in her lust. More, fuck me, have me, use me she's saying, telling with you the slight indignance in her eyes that Sana finds perfectly irresistible.

Then, as if unbothered by how far your cock had been slotted in her throat, she swallows. Says, "is that all, sir?"

And the sound that follows it, that shuddering sigh - breaking, cracking, shattering into the calm quiet of your apartment - Tzuyu takes you like it's more than enough. She's swallowing it all back down again.

“Fuck, Tzuyu, you’re-” you try, only to have her moan loud, so loud, when she drags her tongue down your cock and swallows around the whole thing in a way that has you gasping. Your hands end up wound tightly in her hair, weaving through the smooth waves, knuckles straining when it really sinks in. Just how deep down her throat you go, so perfectly deep, the stretch of her lips holding on the side of a grimace because she needs it that way. She can't have it any other.

"Go on," Sana murmurs into the side of your face, drawing closer so she's got her nails curled down into your thighs, leaning in to place a wet, hot kiss into your cheek. "C'mon baby, she'd told me she'd let you do anything - said she'd swallow everything, like the fucking cockslut she is."

Sana's chin digs against the bone in your shoulder, eyes unwavering on where you disappear over and over inside Tzuyu's throat. And it's not just that - Tzuyu's hair clenched tight in Sana’s one hand, the other curled hard into a fist around the base of your cock, her harsh breaths washing over the bare skin of your neck. It's fucking indecent, how needy she's gotten. How needy she always gets. You can feel her greedy little lips finding your ear and biting just shy of savage enough to break skin, and licking - flicking across the vein beating down in your throat, and then -

"That's right," Sana says with a low growl when you look at her. "Cum."

An impoverished sound rips right through your chest. Spreads through you like wildfire.

And just like that, you're spilling inside her, thrusts growing unsteady and lost in the wet, searing heat of Tzuyu's perfect, wet lips, slapping and sliding into her throat, spilling on her tongue with every surge of pleasure drumming in your blood.

Tzuyu sinks down further. So deep that the brush of the back of her throat feels like a hand on the hilt of a knife, tearing into the ends of your nerves, where they’ve come alight and been set ablaze.

Sana picks up again whispering into the cuff of your ear. It makes your head feel like it might explode. And you're almost entirely certain that's what will actually happen, when the combined pressure between your ears and that of your cock becoming so desperately spent builds and builds and doesn't stop, as though waiting. 

Biding time for some perfect snap.

Only, a tickle at the back of Tzuyu's throat has her choking out. The same uncontrolled way your hips start to falter - shaky, jerky motions instead of any precision or rhythm - and you're tilting and winding your head in circles, jaw tensed, squeezing her scalp and oh, oh fuck. Tzuyu's mouth slides itself all the way off you in one hurried gasp, then two and three, just barely giving her a chance to steady herself, all while you're still leaking thick, white cum all over the slick swell of her bottom lip, up over the ridges of her elegant features, the curves of her cheeks, the high arches of her brows.

Look - you're cumming all over Tzuyu's face. You’re cumming all over her pretty face and she just takes it.

She's, fuck - she's so, so good. And not just because her mouth is fucking perfection, or her eyes are all at once bleary but wide open, watching you twitch, her own cheeks flushing as she stares up at you - trying desperately to breathe, taking a quick lick off the end of your cock, flitting her tongue between her knuckles, because apparently another taste can't hurt.

"Ugh," Sana hushes, right into your neck, "would you just fucking look, see that - god, Tzuyu, how does it feel, does he taste as good as you hoped he would?"

There's a subtle, unmistakable bob in Tzuyu's throat as she's swallowing everything down, the evidence, and a small flash of her tongue. "Good, mmn-" and you can see how she struggles in her restraint to simply say so, to let her hand drift to the 'V' between her thighs and sate that ache.

But even if her body seems ready for more, Sana's finger finds its way underneath Tzuyu's chin to prompt, with one, simple command, "let's get you cleaned up before we give you what you came for. Go on, get our little girl up to the shower, won't you daddy?"

-

It's a minor miracle the three of you make it upstairs and down the hall without so much as a trip or stumble, the girls with their fingers woven together and hips swaying as you all stagger up. It's a minor miracle you don't pin either of them against drywall or up against a doorway or do any of the number of filthy things on the mind of a man just fucked, still coming down, with two gorgeous, perfect faces - two perfectly sculpted asses - all in arms' reach.

The bath mat is still bunched at the back of your bathroom door. Still damp from the last shower - Sana's last morning here - which you have to pry apart just a little so the two of them can file in.

And well - it does happen. Eventually.

At the sink.

Just inside the en suite of your bedroom.

With Sana, being the way she is.

While the faucet in the shower starts up a shallow stream of water - tap running warm, steaming the length of the mirror and condensing the glass that Sana will soon have Tzuyu's face up against if she has any say in the matter.

"Tzu," Sana says, carding a hand through her hair and bringing a damp washcloth up to the bend of her jaw. There's a slow trace of fingertips across the lines of her neck. "Keep your eyes right on his while I clean you up, ok?"

And then there's the mirror in the center. The three of you arranged - a sort of hierarchy - with Sana stepping forward and adjusting her stance in order to survey, and clean the mess she's made. (What you've made.)

In profile, you can't exactly make out a distinct detail about Tzuyu's face in the reflective surface, only the silvery blur that is the curve of her neck, and the silhouette of the small frame that her long, slim legs form against the cabinet. But the idea's always the same - she's being used like a perfect canvas. Like an empty, ready-to-use doll that you can twist and turn in the ways you want until all your control breaks and you're just fucking into her, or having her lick and suck all over Sana's gorgeous fucking tits while she's bouncing in your lap.

Whichever happens to come first.

"You missed a spot," Tzuyu tells Sana, as though she hadn't missed several - her head tilts in your direction, eyes wide still, endless in depth. Her mouth gives away what's already burning its way through her blood. "Maybe another pair of hands will help?"

"Mine are a little rough around the edges," you explain, coming in close. The bathroom is this tight, congested space, but at the right angle there's plenty of room, even if your hips knock slightly into Sana's body. Tzuyu's delicate body already has her back flush against the sink basin. "You want to feel them?"

She shakes her head, and even though the hunger on her tongue hasn't been satisfied, even after having a good fill, there's something else she'd rather have now.

"I think," she starts, her words cut off by a hitch of breath when Sana's lips travel to the very tips of her hair and work their way up to the soft skin behind her ear. "Rough is good, when... when I'm being," Tzuyu's closing her eyes - partly so that she doesn't fall off the edge so easily, partly to lean into the sensations of two warm bodies, all attention placed solely on her.

"When you're being worked over?" Sana offers.

"Ngh," she responds - with an attempt, as best as she can, at a smile. And then there's one, light, teasing stroke across her jaw, her mouth. Sana's thumb pressed gently into the crease. "When the fucking gets..." and you'll have to fill the gap - finishing her thought with your hands slotting themselves onto the gentle arch of her hips, pressing a kiss that doesn't even come close to satisfaction on the supple dip of collarbone.

She lets out this pretty sound at the feel of your lips, Sana's, all ghosting down her throat.

"Hard and deep?" you say. Sana smirks at this - continues the effort, "A little fucking nasty, huh, sweetheart?"

"Mhm." Tzuyu is, above all else, a little helpless. “Because - you know me so well.”

But make no mistake: Tzuyu is exactly where she wants to be. With the heat radiating off her bare body, she leans into it all, only flinching when your teeth catch her nipple - when Sana's tongue laps a rough circle over the other. The scene, the feelings, all of it orchestrated precisely - these are the things she likes, maybe loves even.

And after the soft sounds slip through her lips, a moan and another hum, she finds her words and voice, "hard and deep and, rough and, ff-"

"And?"

The quick brush of your tongue flickers across the hard tip. The sensation draws from Tzuyu this very faint cry and the exhale of a word: "Fast."

"Naughty little thing," Sana presses into her jaw, pulling back to regard you both. To lift a finger, wet the pad with her tongue - and reach down, down, down until her fingertips brush the very line of her thigh, into the slick between her legs. "I love it when girls get all messy."

"Please," is all Tzuyu has to say, barely anything but, as Sana's finger drags slowly inside her folds.

"Patience baby," she murmurs into Tzuyu's open mouth. The exchange is swift but thorough; you watch, all tongue and spit, and your fingers twitch with a sense of loss. "Why don't you remind me how this went last time?"

"Mm, listen here," Tzuyu says in an astute breath, the sound of it like tables turning. There's a firm pull on your wrist - the grip on it guiding you, encouraging you, just where she wants them, into the band of lace around Sana's impossibly narrow waist. You feel Sana sigh in relief, shiver at the touch of a warm palm up against her thighs, and into a pulse-wet cunt, as though the slightest touch will kill her. "I think you might be remembering wrong, Sana."

"And why might that be?"

"Weren't you the one begging me? When I had two fingers up your cunt in your apartment," Tzuyu presses forward, voice lilt and darkening like ink, and Sana whines and crumbles in her palms, knees buckling when there's one sudden and rough slide of fingers right on the base of her spine.

"Yeah?" Sana asks with a rising blush, already knowing the answer - it's her fatal flaw: she's all sharp edges and pointed teeth, right up to the point there's a finger at her own throat, a cock in her hands and a girl working at her clit until she's drooling. "Are you suggesting I'm easy? Is that where you're heading with this?"

Tzuyu's leaned up against the counter, turning Sana's slender frame around in her hands, until she has her fingers up on the over the wire of Sana's bra, palms hot beneath the thin cups, feeling for her nipples, and the change in dynamic is as palpable as the steam rising in the room.

"Let’s not put words in my mouth," she responds simply, dropping another kiss into the back of Sana’s hair. There's another one laid along the sweep of her neck, like a careful bite, and with a lift of a brow, a look that tells you what you've always known, "but if you’re asking, then sure, the sluttiest of all sluts. Easy," she pulls the cups down Sana’s chest, "as fuck."

It gets to her, clearly, as if that moan falling out of Sana's parted lips could mean anything else.

"Daddy?" Tzuyu asks, because apparently she's enjoying the bit, easing into all parts of the character. She can't seem to contain her grin.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you ask, dipping your finger down into Sana's cunt, and fuck - the girl is so, so slick for it. She needs to be taken and torn, that much is clear. Her whimpers don't get softer as your hips drive into her stomach, pinning her between the two of you.

"Is she always this much of a bratty tease? Or is that just how she gets when she gets all worked up over your perfect cock. I know she's aching to feel it stretch out that tight little cunt of hers-

"It's never been all that clear," you answer, before Tzuyu can start to say anything further. A moment of composure, in case Sana wants you to step in.

Except that, she doesn't exactly interrupt the play you and Tzuyu are setting up: "So," Tzuyu remarks instead. "Just for me then."

"It's possible."

The room suddenly feels very full, very small.

"Right. Okay. Well then," you say - watching carefully, when Tzuyu gives you an appraising glance. Sana squirms again beneath the pressure of all these fingers printing over her sensitive skin - she'd love to fuck this. Or be fucked.

"That means you'll have to take good care of your needy little princess, won't you daddy?"

It's surprisingly fitting.

-

Though it hasn’t been that long, all things considered.

Not since Sana effortlessly waltzed her way into your life. And slightly less-than-that, the time it took her thereafter to find herself bouncing in your lap and tugging at your hair while you struggled for breath between her tits. This perfect storm, caught somewhere between laughing and choking and definitely, definitely falling.

It's been a year, maybe. If that. But that's plenty to know.

Know every tilt of her mouth, every sly grin. The different moans that shake loose from the curve of her lips.

Know what it means when Sana's palms hit the tiles of the shower wall, fingers splaying as she goes quiet and submissive, letting out the barest noise of frustration as Tzuyu spreads her tongue over the pucker of her ass - know that the knuckle you curl up in her cunt has her that much closer to unraveling in a stream of whimpers, needy fucking pants and a hoarse sound of gratitude.

Ostensibly for getting her so perfectly, perfectly raw.

"Fuck, yes, that," Sana barely manages, between the messy swipe Tzuyu's tongue makes over her hole. Just this thorough lick, drawing tight, swirling circles around her, lapping at the wetness before making a hot and steady pass over the sensitive stretch of skin, drenching it in spit until Sana's scrambling against the hard surface.

She's not close to going quiet: her cheeks look rounder, like she can hardly keep her noises under control as Tzuyu eases a single fingertip inside the tense muscle of her rim and uses the stretch and warmth of the water raining down her spine, to slip in deeper. Sana's sighing as Tzuyu eats her like an act, an invitation.

You push your fingers deep, deeper, slick, pulling, rubbing, coaxing Sana's mouth apart even as your lips press wet into her cheek. She groans louder, needier, with your hand flexing up a three-finger graze over that bundle of nerves. The kind that makes her back fucking arch.

"You," Sana sputters open like a struck match, burning bright in the steam-cloaked shower, "you, you, you," and it’s not really clear who she’s cursing, "going to - you're going to - you're going to make me-"

"Oh no," Tzuyu sings, starting to straighten herself out - until she’s reminding Sana that she’s the smallest of the three of you and in a possible sort of danger.

She reaches an open palm into the stream of water and splashes off the slick running down her mouth, her chin, her neck - gaze anchored to Sana's trembling figure. It's just one, heavy exhale into the hot, hazy air: "You've got it all wrong.”

Sana twists her head around, face still so wildly attractive amidst the look of worry and that flush of pink taking over from the bottom half. The tiny, imperceptible dip in her brows.

But before she can give voice to a complaint, Tzuyu has her spun by a rough grip around her waist, pinning her back to the tile - water beating down the rise of her breasts and the tops of her shoulders.

"If you're going to cum baby, it'll be all over his thick cock, getting your whole cunt so stretched and stuffed full it'll feel like he's cumming up inside your guts."

You and Sana share this wistful groan of a sigh after Tzuyu wraps her long fingers around your cock, aims you true, and brings you close. Closer. Until you can feel Sana's pulse at her cunt, lips wet and slippery and dripping, just a few inches from where the tip of your cockhead nudges the insides of her thighs. Sana's stomach is seizing in a fluttering of heat and -

"Do you like hearing her beg? That's good. Because this girl's gonna do everything she can to make sure you fuck her raw before you even let her come," Tzuyu's voice lowers, a deep register. "How long can you last, Sana?"

Sana gives you this look, all anticipation and pleasure, holding it for longer than is strictly necessary - and then, her pert little mouth falls open, keening, hissing out a shallow, almost painful, "fuck" the moment you bend at the knees and slip inside.

The feeling that washes over you is a beautiful elixir of relief, an indomitable kind of want, tinged with something heavier, and with just the tiniest hint of longing in the sense that this is not enough, nowhere near enough. It never is.

"God, Sana," is all you manage. All you want to.

Sana doesn't wait around any longer before giving you an impatient shimmy of her hips, fucking herself further down the length of your cock, like she wants to choke on it. And the feeling of it, well, she does it well - the tight warmth swallowing you to the base, her cunt squeezing you all at once, slick and smothering. Fuck, it's all in her eyes. How badly she wants to be held down, split apart. How tightly your fist finds itself locked around Sana's long, wet strands of golden hair as Tzuyu closes any semblance of distance - brushing her lips over where she can tease Sana's open and slack mouth, licking down inside, panting.

"Baby, you are so close, I can feel you trembling," Tzuyu teases, running her fingers up Sana's stomach, cupping steady the breast she can fit in her palm. She drops another messy kiss on Sana’s throat and hums: "Go ahead, cum. I'm sure he doesn't mind.” 

"You're such a prissy fucking- nnh-" Sana's words skirt right over Tzuyu's fingertips before they're shoved roughly across the swell of her lower lip and into the back of her mouth. If Tzuyu's intent was to prove a point, she's about as successful as can be - Sana can only gag quietly around her digits, working her jaw over them.

"Sana, shh-shh-shh, baby, don’t fight it; just cum around around his cock, don't put yourself in a corner and try to play games - he'll fuck you right, until you scream, I promise, and-"

It hardly ever takes much. That's something you've come to appreciate: Sana can't ever help it. With the way it actually feels, you pressing right up against where the rest of her cinches so impossibly tight. She was practically teetering on the edge, on the very cliff and within reach of falling right off of it the instant you fit the very hilt of your cock up the molten-hot stretch of her perfect cunt, sliding, fucking into her while water sprays all over her quivering body, so soft beneath the wash of rain.

One of Sana’s long legs gets wrapped around your waist and you can feel her nails start to dig through the muscles in your shoulders.

Tzuyu smirks right into Sana's temple, biting at the slickness of her skin, running the curve of her thumb around the length of Sana's jugular, and sucking with her teeth when Sana cries out. "How does our girl feel wrapped around you? Wet, huh? Needy?"

"Unbelievable," you answer honestly - and maybe that's the point; Sana's pussy is incredible. Hot and silky and absolutely unreal. There’s no question, whether she's a work of art, or if she'll fuck you up, but you love that part.

“Ruin her for me, won’t you?” Tzuyu prompts, with that twinkle of mischief you're rapidly becoming accustomed to. "She looks even prettier when she's fucked out. I know you know that."

She does, she does, she does.

Your hips snap, up, fuck in - Sana mewling around the shape of Tzuyu's first two fingers - then back, drawing the motion slow, long, full - until you’re crashing forward and sinking up into that warmth you know is spreading across every inch of Sana’s body, swallowing her up inside-out as her legs start to shake and give and her tongue laps recklessly along the outline of Tzuyu's knuckles. 

Sana knows she likes to play at coy and control, but this is never part of the act - your cock fucking her submissive pussy apart - it’s hard to argue she doesn’t love how you can come to own her: hot and fast and filthy, leaving her breathless and desperate, every thrust into her tight cunt punctuated with some pretty whimper. And here, she just… there isn't the luxury, there's nowhere to hide.

Nowhere to run or shy or look away.

Tzuyu curses when finally Sana bites down, part of a long sequence of reflexes that bloom from the depth you fuck up into her cunt. And with her voice back in her throat (Tzuyu's fingers shaking out the sharp pain) she fucking whines into it, unable to stop the steady line of nonsense tumbling past her lips, incoherent except for the single-minded purpose of her own release.

"Fuck, daddy, fuck," Sana repeats in the same way she always does, getting fucked, the letters collapsing into each other. "I'm cumming, fuck, fuck, so fucking wet. God, you're, fuck, right there, oh - I'm cumming, daddy, I’m fucking cumming," is the all further she gets, muddied with the sound of your slicked-up thighs moving in quick rhythm with the beat of your heart, slapping loudly against her skin - loud enough so that the neighbors can probably listen in through paper thin walls.

Then she goes silent, face painted with it all. She isn't crying, the tears won't come, but she's gone this quiet sort of wide-eyed that matches the way she's mouthing, cumming, over and over, you’re pulling me a-fucking-part.

And you believe her. You have to.

Just look at the way her legs are doing all the wrong things. Thighs tensing taut, muscles giving out - she’s slipping down the tiles, back bending and flexing and going limp all at once. Tzuyu's already moving, scooping her up like it's something rehearsed, before you even have to ask, "Tzu, help me hold her up, won't you?"

“Tzu, huh?”

It's not much, but it is worth noting: how Tzuyu, her fingers curling and interlacing between Sana's, holds the girl like she's breakable. Tenderly, cradling Sana's small body against her chest.

"Do you slip into pet names and all that with every girl Sana brings around? Or am I," and when Tzuyu tilts her head, her smile has this very palpable bite, "the exception?"

"Every pretty girl thinks they're special, sweetheart."

Tzuyu just glimpses one downward look into Sana, shivering, riding her orgasm down into nothing, and drops a kiss into her hair. A gentle chuckle: "And when have I ever given you a reason to doubt it?"

"Shameless," is all Sana offers up, beyond exhausted, trying and failing to take more than a passing, somewhat disgruntled interest in the scene unfolding around her, while she clings to the strength Tzuyu and the tile and your hands are putting into her body.

Meanwhile Tzuyu, this devil of a daydream - this tall, skinny thing of long hair and smirking lips and cheekbones as sharp as her wit, has her gaze locked. Still curious, and all but relentless - there's more she's dying to say. It seems almost impracticable that such a lovely woman would really be this way, weapons concealed under all that good-girl charm. And in its most uncomplicated form, that's what it is: an open invitation.

You've only managed the vaguest outlines, after all. "Do you mind?" you ask again.

The next movements feel more elegant than they probably are. Cradling Sana's limp body between you, finding a steady hold.

There’s a slight shuffle to discover a proper balance, a hand slapping the glass of the shower door, and yeah, Sana's fucked out. Slurring out sounds that might resemble the shape of words if she had the presence of mind. The rest are whines and whimpers, obscene in all ways.

“Baby,” Tzuyu tells Sana in a growling kiss to the back of her ear. "Keep your fucking legs up."

(That’s a cue if you were looking for one, to get your arms fastened around Sana's small waist as she leans heavy into your chest.)

"More," The girl in your arms starts to complain, when you truly start fucking her.

"Hurt - hnn, please, more - fuck - harder," and all those sharp edges, that arrogance and conceit, it's all gone. Her pupils are blown out, an animal-like-desire set in its place - these are your invitations to wreck her, you realize, pushing so deep into her well-fucked cunt that she arches, and that her head knocks against Tzuyu's, that the small room is entirely empty save for these movements under the metal cloud of shower water, falling like rain.

This is all there is. 

Tzuyu, smirking like she herself might get off on this. 

Sana, begging.

And when Tzuyu buries a hot smile at her throat, nibbling at the skin - urging her, urging you, this sharp, "now give her the fucking dicking of a lifetime, will you?"

When Sana’s reduced down to her pleas of, please, harder daddy, and deeper, god, I can feel you so deep -

Well,

You’re all instinct. You sink your fingers into the firm skin of her ass, grab at the soft, slippery flesh around her hips. You sink your cock into her hole again and again.

The stretch is obvious and absolutely devastating, making Sana cry out and muffle her face in your shoulder. She makes a weak sort of sound around your neck - it could be anything, maybe please don't stop, or maybe please do - it doesn't matter.

"You look incredible like this baby, does he fuck you well?" Tzuyu croons, curling around her so her head rests on her shoulder - eyes watching Sana, meeting yours. "Oh, come on, aren't you always telling me about how it makes you feel - all this, full and hot and better than anyone? Now's your chance, no hiding from him. Or me."

"It's so, god it's - I -"

"Come on," Tzuyu squeezes out one long, eager moan with her hand dropped onto Sana's breasts, pulling and kneading like she owns it. "Tell him to cum in you baby, like the good fucktoy you are, let him cum up into that creaming pussy until you’re all sticky and leaking cum all over, just the biggest fucking mess."

There is measurable irony, you suppose, in how Sana brings these friends of hers back with the clear expectation to be fucked and torn apart, how they each want the same, all wanting to get her unraveling and her knees buckling. Only Tzuyu manages, more efficiently than anyone you've ever seen, to leave her all wanton and squirming against your hard, relentless thrusts into her needy cunt.

It's easy: this isn't difficult, there is nothing hard about falling for each and every promise her face has to offer - knowing her body's secrets and drawing the story out, line by line, so you can fall in love with it over and over, all while Sana starts to go helpless at the shape of your cock filling up that tiny, wanting cunt.

So you cum. Inside her. In one final push, filling her completely.

Sana opens her mouth like she's trying to say something - say yes - say daddy, say fuck yes daddy.

"That's it," Tzuyu strokes down Sana's belly. "I knew it - now keep your pretty thighs shut. Can't let even a drop out, understand?"

"Yes, fuck. It's - fuck - good, he feels," Sana finally sobs, chest heaving as you grind the last little bits of cum deep, so far and hot as it can get. All the way in. Where it's hot and wet and throbbing and slick.

Where it should stay, because you never pull out. You savor the last bit of your pulse, sporadic and lethargic. Because in truth - your mind is made and your mouth won't say it because you don’t need to.

Tzuyu's wringing the water out of Sana's hair, picking the strands into careful folds. "Alright then," and her grin is positively lecherous.

There's a bench in the corner of the shower where you eventually arrive, panting now that you realize it, and Sana makes herself at home right in your lap, face buried in your shoulder. Grinding her hips down in this almost imperceptible circle, circling back and feeling. Holding you inside and murmuring into your collarbone.

(Fucked, Sana is simply and unfairly beautiful.)

It’s all in that exhale of a moment, when Tzuyu catches water in cupped palms from the shower-head, wiping away what stray tracks of soapiness left on Sana's shoulder-blades and breasts and thighs. Her hands all up and down her body, sudsing the crease between leg and torso, down lower still, around her sensitive pussy and her folds.

You wonder if she can hear you swallow.

"Maybe we should actually wash up before we go again?"

-

The first thing Sana's free hand goes for when she stumbles through the threshold of your bedroom is a hair band you didn’t know she was storing in the top drawer of your dresser. She fidgets around keeping her towel wrapped tightly around her chest as though modesty were an option at this point.

"What?" she asks, fixing you with a slightly-irritated, slightly-teasing smirk. "You look like you have something you want to say."

"Nothing." You laugh out loud. "It's nothing. I'm just waiting."

She makes this face at you, guilty - so sorry about the contraband - as she twists her wrists and pulls the hair band round her middle-finger, wrapping her palms around her knot of wet blonde and bundling it into a half-assembled ponytail. It leaves the length of her nape exposed and vulnerable, neck flushed pink-from-showering in all the most wonderful of places.

"Waiting," is what she hones in on.

Tzuyu is pulling out of the bathroom. Her hands, washed clean and dried off with a fluffy, off-white towel. When she sets it down, she steps back, leaning on the frame. "He's waiting, for what I wonder?"

She's made of all things smooth-and-sharply-cut. Even from here, even through the sleep-haze fog, the silhouette of her nude figure gives itself to a small sense of anticipation. The long and smooth sweep of her chest, from breast, up and out, and then tapering along down to where her hips flare. She takes a step and then another and lets her fingers ride her side, from the very top of the shallow indentation in the dip of her waist, up. Then the tautness of her abdomen and further still, running slow and over the breast, coming to cup its full weight, pushing the bottom of the curve outwards.

"Waiting to," and she wets her lips in something akin to expectation. "Pound me into the fucking bed?"

You’re smiling when you explain, "I was going to say a request…"

Tzuyu’s dimples deepen. "You mean, like, we can tell you what to do?”

You sit on the bed, which is actually more of a proposition than you realize. "I suppose."

"Sana, sweetie, is there something I should be doing for him," Tzuyu looks up, wearing that trademark kind of playful expression that is definitely deliberate and not at all a tell. "Or maybe I've got this all wrong and you know exactly what you want."

"Well," you manage in reply, sounding surprisingly sane. "Don't both start coming forward with any ideas you have no intention of following through."

"And what if I have no ideas at all? What would you tell me then," is the challenge you find hanging around the slender outline of Tzuyu's wrists, and then at the back of her fingers, as she cards her hands through her hair and pulls it prettily over rise-and-falls of her collarbones, until it's barely curtaining her breasts. 

(Barely.)

She crosses over to the bed - to you and Sana - and without much other movement than that, finds a knee on either side of you to let a lone fingertip skirt the tops of your hips. Flirting with the towel around your waist.

"For the record," Tzuyu says, flicking a glance at Sana and leaning down into your jawline. The palm she slides over your thigh is so warm, so promising of its heat and pressure you'd swear you can almost taste the touch of her. "I never, ever go back on my word."

"Try me," you tell her.

"I do have some, ideas." Every time her fingernail ends up between her teeth, it’s another drop in a well that runs god knows how deep. "Though very few of them involve this towel."

“And about the ones that do?”

"Well," Tzuyu starts to purr - reaching a hand down and spreading the flat of her palm on your chest, "I figured if I ever wanted something to bite down on, well, you know."

It's just a subtle little rock - and the perfect view: she starts like this, her hair all tucked behind one shoulder, the arch of her back lifting. Slow at first, Tzuyu only pausing after every other short breath to lick and kiss your lips with hers, and the edges of her teeth, all soft and insistent. You are sure - that with a subtle twitch, a minor jerk of the knee or hip - she is almost right over the perfect place, and when her hips grind in these micro-friction little motions that have her sighing and pushing herself flush, it's clear that all she's looking to do is rub her cunt down all over the erection you've been holding in since the last time your towel was hanging somewhere above your waist.

"Hold, please," Sana interrupts, when she leans over and plucks something out of the messy contents of the nightstand - a few hair clips, and, more importantly, a condom. She swears aloud when the package tears the wrong way, but she's quick to apply a lip balm-slick finger-tip on the inside of the ring, and hands the thing to Tzuyu by way of a passing roll, "so, I assume you've got this under control."

"Give me that."

"Mm. Have at it."

There is an intrusive thought that finds its place, wedged somewhere at the base of your skull when Tzuyu starts the careful act of lowering herself down your shaft - like this, it has an inevitability - a forward momentum, the familiar sense of excitement building a force in your heartstrings. Sana must have a similar sensation, as she scoots her ass and slides one hand over the same place you feel that force thrumming, her palm reaching right for Tzuyu's ass, while Tzuyu hisses out a tiny sound at the added stretch.

"Careful," Sana says, fingers drawn back from the cleft of Tzuyu's beautiful ass with a string of slick that's unmistakably arousal. "You try going back after having his cock. And trust me, there's nothing to go back to. Like, ever."

"That must be why you're always like this," is Tzuyu's cock-sure comeback, finding herself flush with your hips.

You're biting down. You're holding back. You're probably digging nails into your palms hard enough to break skin, because you could be double, triple wrapped, latex running up your length like a goddamn balloon and you'd still feel the hot, melting perfection of Tzuyu's pussy swallowing your cock in one, slick, seamless motion. There isn't any sound either more pleasing than that hitch-groan-slip you hear as Sana helps guide Tzuyu's hips back, forth, back again and to a steady beginning of this proper pace: smooth and full.

You both need a second, because, fuck - and she's biting into a grin. Eyes already half lidded as the speed builds. As Tzuyu starts really enjoying the drag of it, the feeling. The god-damn-fucking-stretch.

"Oh? Like what?" Sana asks, smirk filling out her lips to bridge the silence you're both groaning into. "Like what?"

"Greedy," Tzuyu says. The only part that really needs to get filled in. "Because he fucks the self-control right out of you."

Now Sana lets that settle, and it's not like she doesn't know. Or doesn't understand. And still, "Mm. That does sound like me, doesn't it, daddy?"

(Yeah, well- you- )

Tzuyu watches you watch what happens next: Sana peeling out the cotton slip of her bath towel - sizing up just how good Sana looks. Fuck-me-raw.

And then she laughs, deep and gorgeous. "Didn't he just do a number on you - hn, god. Can you hear him all up inside me? Fucking, splitting me apart."

It's true.

All of it.

The way Tzuyu rides your cock. Faster, faster, rolling her body and drawing her hands together behind the length of her hair and neck until the point of her chin is upturned, showing off the hollow of her throat. A tension that glitters with sweat.

The tightening in the space between the bottom of her ass and your cock - all of it is heaven. This slow-and-rough, rough-and-fast. Tzuyu picks the tempo of it to fuck out a particular pleasure that has you catching her and pulling her closer to your body, holding her through the upward grind, where your cock meets the heat of her cunt - pressing her closer.

That's it.

Possessive. That's what both girls have the good grace to read.

Sana's hands come up Tzuyu's ribs, fingertips skirting the muscle-taut-surface of her stomach, the bumps and grooves of her ribs, and up further still, riding the path of her breasts as they're bobbing-jostled and going full-on heavy - her thumbs go at her nipples. Rolling around the hardened tips - the faintest tug at them, enough to start to pull - then just teasing them between thumb and forefinger and loving the sight of you wincing. Loving that you love that.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Sana laughs.

"It's a real show," you bite the compliment out. The very least you can get to.

(You'll be fucked if you can hide how much you want to stay buried in this girl and cum a fucking waterfall between those perfect, creamy thighs. Oh, she knows. The dirty little smile, the filthy laugh, you're holding tight - even if the act is useless.)

"Like how she clamps down," she hums. "That's the part I've always loved, you know. She just does everything so slow, so fucking good, so... deliberate."

There's a fist in Tzuyu's hair and no trace of sympathy or self restraint in her friend when Sana tells her, "Baby, ride him slow for me, can you do that?"

When Tzuyu sucks a hiss through her teeth, mouth caught around the sharp intake, Sana just licks a slow line along the curve of her lower lip - as though saying, baby, like the slut you are, remember who asked nicely? 

And it turns out: slow is worse. You can feel every tiny tremor of friction, every little shift of Tzuyu's cunt squeezing you. Clinging tightly. Your fingers wrap around her rib cage and hold her right as her ass hits your lap, while her head rolls back into her own hair. It is enough, finally, to draw an out-of-breath little pant out of her, making a beautiful blush crawl and spread across her cheeks - there.

(Oh, fuck, your brain echoes. So, you want slow, that's what the noise from your throat says as she eases back, rising up. So slow, you-can-feel-all-of-me. She makes the effort so flawlessly, it's fucking you both over, because she's looking at Sana with this flutter-beat look, eyes wide, wet and round and pleading.)

It gets that much worse the minute Sana pushes her down by the shoulders. Giving her some resistance. Showing you both she can take you inch by slow goddamned inch.

"Harder. Deeper, sweetie."

Tzuyu does everything Sana says she'll do, loving her fingers in her hair, pulling tight. Control given as easily as that. Because she looks just how she feels: utterly surrendered. A helpless kind of want, like there's something broken in her chest when the head of your cock pushes her deep, deep. To the point she feels something more than an ache.

"Want it," Tzuyu whispers out against Sana's smile. "From the back, like you promised," she says, and takes the shudder out of your breathing.

Sana cups her jaw, laughing. She puts one arm around Tzuyu's throat and bites at her chin, at her ear. "I bet he'd do just about anything to give you what you want, baby."

Tzuyu’s hips snap down onto yours again. Melting your cock in this thick, molten heat.

And again, faster. Needier.

The kind of movements across your lap that make everything louder - a beautiful chorus of small-sounds. Slaps and squelching. Wet and gasping and begging and skin-on-skin. You'd never, ever considered the act a competition before, not with Sana. But when Tzuyu seems to be seeing who can pull the most erotic of noises out from underneath your ribcage - or the highest pitched sigh - the wetter and louder it all gets -

"Sana."

"Tzu."

Tzuyu rides the pressure and finds her voice, head thrown back, jaw slack. "Sana - tell him to, I'm gonna, soon. Tell him what to do."

"Beg for him," and Sana gives her the fakest-of-all-pouts when she slips her hand along Tzuyu's inner thigh, nearing her where the two of you meet, then slowing her pace, bringing you both to an immediate stand-still, while her fingertips continue, ghosting across the shape of your stomach. "He doesn't need anything less than the truth."

Tzuyu's face. It's the most gorgeous thing you've seen. Her hips are winding slow against you when you hit a spot you're not entirely sure either of you can recreate at your own whim: deep inside. Her eyes as wide as they can be. All of her sharp edges now just these subtle things - the very shape of the shadow beneath her clavicle, the tensing of her thighs at your sides, the gentle lines that curl up from the wide bottoms of her hips when your fingers thread up her belly, palm open flat.

"I want," is where Tzuyu starts, not hiding it any part. "I want you to bend me over the bed." 

And in a breathless voice: 

"Please, please let me have what I want. Just bend me over the bed, shove my legs apart and take me. Hold me down. Fuck me and fill me and don't let me move or say a thing. Until we're both fucking finished."

You swallow. Hard.

Because here's what Sana's brought you: this tall brunette with an impossibly beautiful ass and thighs to die for, a sin-full mouth. The curves in her waist and back and tits a distraction, that you might try to map out until you're so lost you forget how to leave, how to ever take your cock out of this tight cunt.

"Is that a thing you can do?" Tzuyu practically purrs in one long tone, pushing herself up your waist, until your cock falls out and hangs there. Until you can only see all of this clear, gorgeous skin in front of you and hear her pretty little moan. "God, please, daddy, I’m begging you."

(She says this last part in a way that lets you know this isn't something either of you will get over easily, the kind of pleasure, the feeling and the flash. She's unreadable - almost, not quite- just too honest, there's nothing else for you to believe. Maybe that's where the shiver comes from, or your palms itching, or the sounds of your bedding ruffling as you spin her onto her back, her tummy - pull up on her hips until they're sky high and you can palm her breasts, let her press her knees up and apart on the duvet. Until you get that first look down the column of her spine and the sudden, stunning shape of her ass in a view you never want to say goodbye to.)

Tzuyu slides her hands across your sheets, all this stretch. A flex of muscle. When she opens her hips and you push two fingers deep, inside, easy - then back out -

"How much of that," Tzuyu interrupts, blushing furiously, "do I have left to beg with? Please."

- because she's been soaked and aching all day just thinking about it. Just begging for a good fucking - or so she told Sana, who now giggles and leaves small kisses up the ridge of her spine, crawls alongside the dip-line of the mattress, and after curling her fingers around the column of Tzuyu's throat - smooths a single fingernail up and down and presses, tracing, the groove of her jaw as you nudge your cock against her.

It’s not on purpose, this needlessly drawn-out moment - simple brush of latex against her slick, dripping folds, the tightening in her core and how it matches the tension in Sana's wrist and the coarseness of the bed-linens and the hardness of you - but everything eventually folds, into her.

And you're not helping, the way you're fastened to the narrow point of her waist like it's a handle. Your thumbs riding the arch of her hips, taking every opportunity to sink your fingers hard into the flesh, grip tighter and push, pulling Tzuyu, if only to really work that friction between your hips.

"Fuck, it's all in. Finally." Sana gasps like she's the one being bent, arched, fucked from behind, then lays herself down against the length of Tzuyu's shoulder, chin bumping her cheek. Watching Tzuyu. Taking it all in.

You have a hard time making it out, but Tzuyu starts this half-whimpered litany about how she needs to be fucked (that is, roughly - deep and long, or maybe rough and short and deep, or whatever, as long as it makes her lose composure), followed with some shoddy mix of cursing and your name and Sana's - the things all three of you might consider for another chance meeting.

And as you're following up the suggestion with a low groan, that's exactly how you notice that grind in her hips - a jerk back, a twist, bucking against you. She feels so, so incredibly tight when she writhes onto you, squeezes. Like she wants to tear her heart out her chest, she's so overwhelmed. So thoroughly and totally taken by this fuck. By you. "Harder," is all she says.

This one line does it, then two more. All in-and-out thrusts from behind, fuller the second time, then the third.

Only when you find Tzuyu peering back over her shoulder with a pair of eyes that say, please, pretty-please, all liquid and warm and wanting. "Fucking ruin that cunt, I want - god. Do you have the slightest idea how much," and that is where the words disappear into a slow and sticky whine.

"Yeah baby," Sana whispers.

She knows what it is. Tzuyu wants so much more, so you give it. Give her the just-this-side-of-ruthless fucking and the slow-pace grind you know can push her right over the edge. Give her more, all of you, and get her hands twisting in the pillow and grabbing fistfuls of sheets, burying her face into the space above her wrists and nearly choking on her hair with how she moans and yelps - loud.

Her whole body jolts forward the next time. The arch to her back deepening. Body drawing in on a flawless line.

Tzuyu does cum. Eventually.

She keens and rolls and begs you not to pull out or slow, just stay put and fill her with your cum - keep fucking going, please. The only thing keeping her from landing flat on your mattress as she practically unravels around your cock are fingers you have under her hips, tightening. Bruising.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me, you’re,” you’re railing out of her lungs, where the words hang on sex-stale air.

First with Sana whispering promises into her ears and letting Tzuyu swallow, and suck around the length of her index, then two, fingers. Then licking a kiss into her mouth, tongue tangling up hers and finishing up the act with, "cum for us, Tzu, like the sweet girl you are - you take him so well."

Then, with your hand held over her ass-

(She could cry from it. From how everything pulls you in, like a riptide, and, really, with no regard for things like safety or drowning.)

-the utterance off her lips has your stomach twisting into knots:

"Keep," you hear her ask Sana. Barely getting the words out as you ride, fast. "Please, keep, telling him that I - god."

It gets worse before it gets better.

"I can't - I need; fuck, I can’t, with the rubber, I want him," and Sana smirks like she knew all along. "Sana, please-"

"You want the real thing, sweetie. Isn't that right, baby? Hm. Of course it's okay," and Sana soothes a hand through her friend's fringe, pushes it away from her eyes and over her ears, making something that sounds like an adoring laugh slip out. "You want him to fuck his cum so deep in that pussy, I know you do, don't worry."

When you slow down the grinding, wipe the sweat from your face, Sana gets your attention and nods to the very place your cock is disappearing between the cheeks of Tzuyu's ass, "go ahead. If you want the mess-up, sweetie - let's make sure that's exactly what he'll give you."

Who exactly wants what most is hard to say. Sana's the one pulling off the condom, the rubber stretching to an obscene limit that has you fearing for your life should it snap back before it breaks. Tzuyu is already a sort of gaping mess with it all, her own fingers snuck under to rub harsh circles in the absence of cock and something firm and heavy to fill her. To feel full.

And there's you, asking, or maybe, double-checking: "Tzuyu, you're saying you want me to-"

"She doesn't care," is what you're interrupted with, courtesy of Sana. "Fuck a baby into her cunt, that's what she wants."

(Like you wouldn't fucking love it too. Or have the frame of mind to even begin to unpack all of that.)

It’s a lot, admittedly.

And not just because Tzuyu has never looked better: on all fours, pressed, and presented. Legs all the way apart and ass and thighs in your grip, with that smile all pointedly certain and wild-eyed, like, she knows, that you know exactly what to give her - what she really wants - filling her so full and marking your claim by fucking your cum right to her very core.

Tzuyu drags her head back, so she can peek over her shoulder and meet your eyes.

She does things. Like sighing this small sound and laughing and - she has this thing for noises, for things breaking under the strain, where she won't say a word, except to murmur some part of your name into your jawline, a raggedness in her breathing. Sheer hunger.

"I want - want you to, fuck me."

You will. Or you are. Or you're going to, only - Sana's lips are fast around your cock, fingers fluttering delicately between your thighs and drawing these stuttering sounds in your breath, "I will. I will. I'm - I will."

Sana just hums, copper hair bobbing in place. Her hot mouth and wet fingers pulling and sliding and pulling and sliding. Tongue moving in all the ways she knows you like.

Which, here’s a fact: Sana can be mean. No one would believe it.

But sometimes this is the price of admission. You have to be honest about what it takes, how, exactly, you intend to break this beautiful brunette whose ass is swaying back and forth in this mesmerizing little waggle of the hips. It's hard not to marvel, not to ask questions and not wonder at what a pair of friends so similar and so opposite do to each other and other people and to themselves in those small, private hours and space no one else shares, that has you panting and burning and her clasping the hollow of your neck and asking with her body if this is okay, because sometimes, in moments of absolute need, just a glance can mean your end.

So, there's no tease; Sana is well aware of what it feels like when you're throbbing and ready to burst - she's working you up and over and right to that point of no return-

"Can I? Fucking-"

"Fine," she replies, maybe having now considered every other way you might spill a hot load out and make a mess of the sheets. "Have at her," and a flick of tongue catches around the tip of your cock - the final tease, the best punishment.

And the promise of how Tzuyu makes that perfect whimpering cry. Something entirely wounded. Because as soon as it begins - your cock in the shallow depth of her creaming cunt - you're both made aware how she's wetter than she was an hour ago and clenching at nothing, hands balling themselves in frustration, palms bunched white-knuckled up in fists. She needs something, anything. Something for her to squeeze against. For her to bear down on and bounce her cunt off-

The sound all three of you make when you grit your teeth and bury yourself deep into her pussy is a guttural, aching thing, with you biting a lip and gasping. Tzuyu half-growling-half-sobbing into the sheets.

It doesn't matter that she lets Sana cover her open and slack mouth in an attempt to quiet it.

It doesn't matter because in a blink, the exact point in which you sink completely inside - where it's the first, the best, feeling of Tzuyu’s hot pussy taking your cock.

(Mind-numbing, is the word that doesn't come to you.)

Under you, Tzuyu is writhing and hot and tight into the mattress - and so desperate.

"Please," is about all that gets away from her. Which is just too cute to ignore: she's been dying to be fucked, ever since stepped into your foyer and was introduced by the softest, most deliberate of gestures that wound up being all-too intimate. "Please- I need - harder, fucking-"

Sana takes to touching you, her own little form of enjoyment that ends with her fingertips mapping the shape of your jaw. Pupils blown, "Isn't she amazing?" Sana laughs into your neck.

"Fucking," is what your first real stroke back into Tzuyu pulls out,  “unreal."

The friction has you both grinding your bodies together at the base, and she arches, this throaty moan, before looking back up at you and letting her mouth fall open - this wordless sentence of plea, over and over again. She's shaking. Body-full. It's almost something painful to see, that she's so undone - and what if you were the only person who'd ever fucked her like this: into ruin.

Tzuyu clenches around the next thrust - begging, so-sore-and-begging to cum.

The demand is practically written in her muscles, and all you want is for her to let go for the second, third, last time - until she loses track of the count. To get there before you have the time to register that she is actually doing it. She's already half-way gone and at your mercy - her only choices now, being: cum, or let you chase the orgasm you're currently rubbing all around the curve of her cunt.

Sana swallows her scream when the first little cry comes, that you've edged out of her. And it gets worse and better the second time her ass meets your thighs, where she's making a real mess on your hips and all but yelling out her orgasm in her state of such incoherent stutter and disarray. The arch to her back is this thing out of your best imagination, which has you - pounding out all her noises - gripping and curving over the plane of her stomach. Until Tzuyu's beginning to make these different cries, somewhere new, somewhere you're finding a whole lot deeper.

"Hold her ass up and fuck her 'til she's full of cum," is the advice you get from Sana in the end, as you fuck her and fuck her through the tumultuous rise and fall of orgasm after orgasm, "oh baby, does it hurt so good? Do you feel that heat spreading down your thighs and getting you all slick? You always knew the best toys are the ones that get bred, sweetheart."

And from her, barely, "fuck, yes."

That's what does it: the desperation just that tangible in all your voices.

Sana manages to get her lips on yours. A kiss that could knock the wind out of your sails under normal circumstances, one that curls a fist and tugs around a familiar part of you. But Tzuyu's eyes roll and drop low, fluttering shut, while your hips crash in quickening succession:

"Fuck-you're so-perfect, cum in me again, daddy - make me," and, "please, so fucking full, just give me more. Want more of you, until it's-"

Tzuyu gets you. Just there. Just the way you needed it. Just like that.

There's something addictive in how her muscles clench and grab around the head of your cock - drawing everything you'd been holding back to a painful front, and - Sana's taste in your mouth still so sweet, mixed with salt and sweat, while you fuck and pound, with absolutely zero respite. Cum buried deeper and deeper until it's spilling and Tzuyu whines for the filthy feeling. Until you're fucked through, emptying every single drop into her open cunt. Until your legs feel sore, a slight shake all through the muscle and the tension in your neck and shoulders, and you're growling this thing that might be her name, and "Tzu, my god, baby, you feel, so amazing," in between thrusts.

It earns you an appreciative whimper.

Something breathy and not-at-all restrained. She doubles down on it when your cock slides out of her swollen, well-fucked cunt.

At first, she only hums a sleepy smile and turns her face in toward the touch, eyes closed and unresponsive. A long exhale. Even like this - especially, perhaps - Tzuyu is lovely.

Either out of exhaustion or overbearing satisfaction, you collapse into her - bodies folding up like that old-cliche about a stack of cards or dominoes - with your cheek to her back and your arms wrapping around her chest, tight, trying to squeeze. Like you're hugging someone from behind. Which isn't too far off. Because for the next five or ten or fifteen minutes or a half-hour, you lie there, pressing your face in against the side of her neck, smelling her hair - how sweet the strands are - then down along her shoulders, and under, listening to the soft way Tzuyu falls into her breaths. 

In, out. In, out.

Sana follows all the while with, "should we not have let her ride, first?"

To which, Tzuyu says, "fuck off."

Sana brushes it off, crawls around your shoulders and slips two, three, five kisses into your forehead. That's when you know to shuffle over, dragging and tugging limbs and muscles and bone in the same direction - careful not to let the sticky sensation linger anywhere it shouldn't. Not even for an instant.

The three of you are laying in a total fucking mess. But it's your mess, and that's beautiful in a sort of thought-provoking poetic way.

You turn your head. Tzuyu's there, still, blinking slowly.

"Hello again, hi," you say and the smile comes up all sorts of natural. "Okay?"

Her gaze shifts into something vague, so much quieter, but she nods. So it must be. Okay.

-

“Is it too early?” Tzuyu asks two weeks later, and nothing has ever, ever started like that.

She’s at your doorstep, a little too dressed up for the middle of the afternoon, hair pulled away from her face in two loose braids, bright eyes, lip-gloss that shimmers just enough. Something innocent in the whole way she looks and stands and smiles. Nothing, on the surface, that gives the truth away.

You lift an eyebrow, skeptical. Always. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Yes you were," and she dangles a set of keys.

"I'm sorry, did you steal those?"

The laughter from her chest is as surprising as it is gorgeous, rich and thick like molasses, rolling over the shape of her tongue. It hits you hard that two weeks - really, any amount of time - it’s not nearly long enough.

And before Tzuyu can admit as much out loud, Sana chirps from her spot aside the door, knee bent and grinning, "maybe I did."

"Well," you say, hands on your hips, "this is all a little..."

"Irregular, I know." Sana's giving her best impression of you: so exasperated.

"Which is, honestly," she continues to explain, pushing away from her perch and approaching in these small, gentle steps. "We need, that thing you promised you'd do," she trails a finger up the buttons of your shirt, under your jaw. You're already drowning. "Whenever" - is her very worst torture - "we called."

(Might just be a little bit of trouble, is the one honest answer, to whatever you were trying to start when you saw their faces and recognized their bodies and said: yes, come inside and meet me and fuck my brains out, all that.

What a way to begin. What a story it'll be.)

a/n: these two are fucking adorable.

[lovebugism]

u said 2 do ur worst for shy!r so…. steve and reader go to the hawkins snowball dance and a slow song comes on and its a uber romantic song (i’m talking taylor swift type romance) and steve ofc asks r to dance… she’s super shy so she keeps looking at the floor but then steve does the thing where you lift the other persons chin up so they’re looking into ur eyes… if u wanna elaborate on this :)

i changed this up a wee bit, but i hope u like it! — when steve is finally crowned prom king, all he can think about is getting a dance with his (sorta) secret girlfriend (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, 1.2k)

Steve abandons his crown and scepter somewhere between the bleachers and the snack table. The thought of finding you is far more important than the chunks of plastic they give him. 

The cold breeze of the early evening cools his warm cheeks, flushed red from the adrenaline and the alcohol. He finds you sitting on the wooden bench outside the gymnasium, pretty and all alone. The skirt of your fairy-tale dress billows around your calves. Elbows digging into your thighs, you prop your chin on your fists and pout softly beneath the pale moonlight. 

You’re the prettiest thing Steve’s ever seen. The saddest, too, maybe.

“Been looking for you,” he says to announce his presence. The lopsided smile on his face is audible. You know it’s dancing on his pink mouth before you ever turn around to face him. 

He’s a pretty thing in a sleek tux. Boyishly handsome. Sort of like he’s playing dress-up. The thought almost makes you smile.

“Sorry,” you apologize in a mousy voice, blinking up at him with sparkly, made-up eyes when he looms over you. “It got… really loud in there…”

“Well, Tommy spiked the punch, so… It was kinda inevitable,” Steve jokes with a lazy shrug, even though he isn’t really joking. 

He watched the idiot steal his dad’s best liquor from the high-up cabinet two hours ago. The Hawkins High class of ’85 got drunk on it in record time. The school pulses with life accordingly. The brick behind you threatens to shake with it.

Your nose scrunches. “Is that why it tasted like gasoline?”

“Probably,” Steve grins.

He huffs and sits at the spare spot next to you. The old bench creaks in protest. He takes his first good breath all night when he’s finally alone with you. The fresh air and your perfume fill his lungs, smoother than silk. There’s a subtle euphoria and a distant nostalgia between it all. 

He’s spent years chasing this feeling. He thought maybe being crowned prom king would solve all his problems. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. ‘Cause you did.

“You coming back inside?”

Your lips purse to the side of your mouth as you ponder the question. “I don’t know… Probably not.”

Steve’s freshly shaven face swirls with visible confusion. He loves a party — especially when he’s the life of it — so it’s hard for him to comprehend how other people don’t. Even though he knows, more than anyone else, that you’re made of something much more delicate than that.

“Why not?”

“Prom’s not really my scene, Steve,” you answer with a scoffed-out laugh.

He flashes you a crooked smile in return, painted silver in the moonlight. His cologne swaddles you in its musk when he leans over to nudge your shoulder. “You promised me a dance, remember?”

Your soft features harden into a frown. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, c’mon! You know you wanna dance with me,” he protests through a poorly bitten-back laugh.

“Why?” you press, meeting his beam with a lighthearted scowl. “So all your friends can laugh at me?”

“Screw ‘em! They’re assholes— who cares?”

“I care. ‘Cause you’re not the one they’re laughing at, King Steve.”

You spit the stupid nickname with playful venom in your tone, but Steve can’t help but smile at it, anyway. He’s a week away from graduating, halfway employed, and Hawkins High’s reigning prom king. It’s all slightly maddening — especially now that he’s got you.

He wonders if you applauded when he won that stupid crown. If you laughed at him about it, or if you were strangely proud. He’ll ask you about it later. After he gets that dance.

“Let ‘em laugh,” he shrugs.

You shake your head, averting your gaze with a sad smile. You wish it were that easy. 

“You don’t know what it’s like,” you tell him as the heavy bass inside the school starts to slow. Through the high-up frosted windows, you hear Girls on Film fade into Never Tear Us Apart. 

“Sorry for wanting to dance with my girlfriend,” he teases to ease the tension. It comes out more serious than he intended, though, ‘cause he is sort of sorry. Nothing about your two worlds exactly meshes — yet here he is, still hopelessly trying to tangle them together.

You know this, so you sigh. “Sorry for not being prom queen,” you joke back, only partly serious. You blink at him with a pair of twinkling eyes — slightly smudged with mascara. The sparkles of your eyeshadow glint when they catch the moonlight. 

“Don’t want you to be prom queen,” Steve confesses softly, smiling at you somehow softer. “I like you the way you are right now.”

You get a warm, tingly feeling in your stomach. It wells up your chest and into your throat until you feel like you might cry. 

You roll your eyes at him when they start to burn, laughing softly to distract from the overwhelming feeling. Your gaze flits to the velvet night sky, speckled with twinkling stars, until you get the courage to look back at the boy beside you. His face glitters with something hopeful. 

You swallow hard and ask, “You still want that dance or what?”

Steve glows with a boyish excitement. “Yeah! Are you kidding? Of course, I do.”

“Out here, though,” you tell him when he rises from the bench.

He smiles at the stern look in your delicate eyes. “Why? You ashamed of me or somthin’?” he jokes, as if he wasn’t named just prom king.

You stand before him with your arms crossed over the pretty corset of your dress. You bite back a smile. “I just wanna spend time with my boyfriend without it being on the cover of The Weekly Streak tomorrow,” you confess.

“Fair enough,” Steve nods, smoothing his wide hands over your sides. 

Yours are much less confident. They tremble with a misplaced worry as they spread over his shoulders. Your fingers fidget on the satin lapels of his expensive suit. His longer ones guide you back and forth, swaying you gently to the slow beat of the muffled song.

—Don’t ask me, what you know is true…

Don’t have to tell you, I love your precious heart—

You get lost in it all before you mean to. The warmth of having him so close, swaddled in his big hands and deep cologne. 

His honeyed gaze hasn’t yet wavered from you, but you don’t have the heart to meet it. He’s looking at you like he loves you. Like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Like you’re the fucking prom queen. 

You don’t feel particularly deserving of any of it.

“Are you still having fun?” you ask with a scrunched nose, visibly riddled with feelings of inadequacy. You still haven’t quite figured out why he’d rather be out here with you than inside with everyone else — with Vicki Carmichael, the actual prom queen.

“Loads,” Steve answers without missing a beat. His hands squeeze reassuringly at your hips as he flashes you a crooked grin. “It’s not even a question, honestly. I’d choose you over those schmucks in there any day of the week.”

He nods his slicked-back hair to the pulsing brick a few feet away. A few gelled chestnut strands drape over his forehead. You fight the urge to push them back.

“Really?” you squeak with your pretty face, all dolled up, twisted with an innocent look of confusion.

You have no idea how beautiful you are, Steve thinks to himself.

“Yeah,” he nods, grinning wide and wearing all his adoration on his chiseled, golden face. He could hide it if he tried. “Tommy Hagan isn’t nearly as pretty to look at.”

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | part four

“so move me, baby”

A/N: so like the little slut that I am…I was kicking my feet and giggling at my desk yesterday while writing this 🤭 I surprise myself with just how filthy I can get, woo doggy! Please read the warnings and if this isn’t your cup of tea, just scroll on by baby love! No harm 💗 thank you to my bug @strang3lov3 for the moodboard!! I love u so much & a big thank you to @itsokbbygrl for betaing 🥺

~word count: 6.4k~

Summary: you meet Tommy Miller for the first time, and he takes you for a spin ;)

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!tommy x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, established relationship, Joel is in his 40’s, reader is in her 30’s, mentions of alcohol and smoking, consent, unprotected piv, fingering, pussy play, f!masturbation, semi-public sex, reader and Tommy fuck and Joel’s into it, amateur porn video in the back of Tommy’s truck, language, filthy talk, praise kink, daddy kink, over stimulation/fucked out, light degradation (by Tommy but in a sexy non-offensive way), dumbification kink (endearing), readers nickname is baby love, reader has no physical descriptions, reader, Joel, and Tommy, are sexually liberated individuals, NSFW, +18 minors dni! Please let me know if I missed anything!

playlist🎧 series masterlist

“Joel…” you trailed off, picking at a loose thread on your denim skirt absentmindedly. “What if your brother doesn’t like me?” You questioned in an unsure tone.

He turned to face you, leaning over the dashboard while he rested his elbow along the steering wheel, “baby love, you ain’t got nothin’ to be worried about with my brother, okay? Think y’all are gonna get on like a house fire.” He winked in an attempt to soothe your budding nerves. “What about meetin’ him is gettin’ ya all worked up? Talk to me, darlin.’”

He gently grasped your bare knee in his big, warm, palm.

“This is going to sound so fucking stupid, Joel. But what if he finds me annoying—repulsive? I always get nervous when I’m meeting new people. I’m surprised I didn’t completely shit a brick when I first met you for instance.” You stifled a nervous laugh as you looked over at him.

He gave you that warm reassuring smile of his, dimples peeking through as he gently squeezed your knee. “Y’all are gonna get on just fine, ‘Kay? And listen, between you and me, Tommy and I—we uh—we discussed the possibility of the three of us filmin’ somethin’ together at some point. Now, there ain’t no rush for any of that, okay? Last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable or pressured to get along with him.”

Your pupils dialated, thighs clenching inwards at the prospect of fucking…Tommy? Holy fuck—was this real life?

“You, and Tommy—fucking me?” You spluttered out, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. There was no denying that Tommy Miller was a real hunk, with the personality of a horny golden retriever. He was the complete opposite of Joel, but that intrigued you nonetheless.

“Only if you’d be interested in that, baby love. You don’t gotta decide right now, okay? Tonight’s all about you. If you’re feelin’ my brother, I want you to act on it only if you’re comfortable. He’s a real looker, but I’ve made sure that he’s a good Texas gentleman.” Joel reassured you as he was silently trying to gauge how you were feeling thus far based off your body language.

“And you’d be okay with him and I…?” You trailed off, meeting his gaze as you reached for his hand on your knee, interlocking your fingers through his.

“Of course I would be. I’m not gonna get weirdly jealous or possessive if you want to fuck my brother, baby love. That’s why I wanted to have this conversation with you ahead of tonight, because Tommy? He’s interested, but I told him to let you feel it out, and to not spring it on ya right away.”

He watched the subtle clench of your inner thighs, your pupils blown wide and your lips parting. He knew you were turned on by the prospect of fucking his brother, and your arousal inherently turned him on as well.

He dropped his forearm from its resting spot along the steering wheel and brought his hand to your other knee where he proceeded to coax your thighs open just a tad. You didn’t need much coaxing at all as your thighs naturally parted open, thoughts running wild.

“Look at me, baby love.” He rasped, rubbing soothing circles into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Is the thought of fucking my brother turnin’ you on, darlin?’ Ya drippin’ all pretty for him already?”

“Fuck.” You breathed out, eyes rolling back into your skull. Joel had barely even touched you yet, and you were leaking like a damn faucet through the gusset of your thin panties. You could feel a droplet of your arousal drip down and create a wet patch through the fabric. Your eyes met his, lower lip harshly taken between your teeth, pupils darkened like an oncoming storm, blown wide like a doe’s.

“I never thought the possibility of fucking your brother would arise, Joel. It’s like—a fantasy coming true.” You breathed out, head lolling to the side, “I think he has such a nice fucking cock.”

Joel preened, leaning the upper half of his body further over the center console as his fingers trailed closer to your covered core. He could feel you pulsing already, the anticipation of being touched igniting a fire in your veins the closer his fingers drew nearer.

“A fantasy come true, huh? You think about my brother a lot, baby love? S’okay if you do. Got yourself all worked up now…almost creating a mess on the seat with how fuckin’ wet your pussy is gettin’, baby.”

You whined out his name, letting yourself fully succumb to your depraved thoughts of fucking Tommy. Your brain felt fried, imploded to complete mush, and yet your Joel didn’t show a lick of judgment towards your arousal. In fact, he encouraged it and therefore you had no reason to feel shameful.

“Why don’t you get me all ready for him, Joel. C’mon baby, please. Play with me a little. Play with my pussy while I think about fucking your brother’s cock, Joel.” You shamelessly shifted your hips towards his hand, chasing his touch with unabashed desire.

He checked the time on his watch, a coy smirk playing on his sinful lips as he looked over at you, “Think we can afford to be fashionably late, baby love.”

-

Joel and Tommy’s local watering hole was exactly how you expected it to be: not the classiest, and certainly not your first pick, but if Joel were any other man, you would have hightailed out of there. But this was your Joel, and his warm palm guiding you to a booth that was tucked away in the corner. You were grateful for the outfit that you chose to wear for the evening could grant easy access. And with the residue of your release still coated between your thighs, you felt the trepidation and anticipation of what was to happen when Tommy would inevitably show up.

The thought had you buzzing all over again as you found yourself tucked into the wall seat of the booth, Joel’s hand finding purchase around your bare thigh as he leaned in, the tip of his aquiline nose brushing against your pulse point.

“Want anythin’ to drink, baby love? Or just water for now?” He rasped low and deep, sending goosebumps rising on your skin.

“Tequila, on the rocks.” You purred out your request, gripping on the edge of the booths worn leather for dear life.

“‘Kay, baby love. One tequila on the rocks comin’ right up.” He pressed a sweet kiss to the side of your face, leaving a whiff of his cologne and musk on your skin.

You watched as he slipped out of the booth and made his way over to the bartop, sleeves rolled up revealing broad, tan, forearms. His fingers that had only just been plunged deep into your pulsing cunt twenty minutes ago, were now casually flipping through a stack of twenties.

“S’cuse me, ma’am. This seat ain’t taken, is it?”

You peered up from your phone at the sound of the stranger's all-too familiar voice. A deep Texas drawl straight out of a western film, paired with two dark espresso colored eyes, a broad nose, and a head of dark, luscious curls that fell in ringlets.

Tommy fucking Miller, and that shit eating smirk of his that sent your thighs clenching together in tandem.

Holy—I need a glass of water.

“Oh, no. It’s not taken. Please, sit down.” You gestured to the empty seat across the booth with a nervous smile.

Tommy slipped into the booth with ease and reached behind his ear and pulled out a single cigarette, twirling it between his fingers before he placed it between his lips. He reached across the booth's table, hand outstretched in your direction. “Y’must be my big brother’s baby love. M’Tommy, the hotter Miller brother. It’s a pleasure to finally meet ya.”

You blinked, registering in your brain that Tommy Miller was in fact sitting across from you and looking like a goddamn snack nonetheless.

You reached for his hand, shaking it firmly, “charmed.” You grinned.

“Damn. And she’s polite too? My brother got the whole package with ya huh, sweetheart?” He chuckled smoothly, shaking your hand a moment longer before he retracted his. “Y’don’t mind if I smoke do ya?”

“Oh, no. Of course! I don’t mind.”

He nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulled out his lighter, lighting the cigarette with ease before he leaned back against the worn leather cushion, stretching his arm to rest along the backside of the booth, long fingers stretched out—flexing.

“Where’s the son of a bitch anyway?” Tommy asked casually, the lit end of the cigarette dipping downwards between his lips.

“He’s right here.” Joel had returned with your tequila on the rocks, and two glasses of neat whiskey. He slid one over to his brother with a small nod. “And you can’t smoke in here, Tommy.” Joel reminded him as he slid into the seat next to you.

“Says who? Doreen don’t give a damn.” Tommy quipped back as he reached for his glass, tipping it in yours and Joel’s direction.

“That’s cause Doreen’s got the fattest fuckin’ crush on you and that big head of yours.” Joel scoffed against the rim of his glass taking a sip before he turned his attention towards you. “Gotcha a water as well, baby love.”

“Who the hell you callin’ a big head, huh?” Tommy wiggled his eyebrows playfully and grasped the cigarette between his two fingers, replacing it with the rim of his glass as he took a sip. “How’s y’all’s evenin’ goin’ so far? Gettin’ into any trouble?”

“Believe I called you a big head, Tommy.” Joel chuckled, letting his free arm gently drape across your shoulders, squeezing them gently as you took a sip of your tequila on the rocks, letting the liquor burn down your throat and warm your stomach. “S’goin’ pretty good. First time baby loves been here, ain’t that right?”

You didn’t register that Joel was talking to you, his voice sounding fuzzy in your ears as you took a bigger sip of your drink. “What?” You questioned softly, being brought back down to earth when you felt his warm palm gently squeeze your shoulder. The heat rose to your cheeks fast and you cleared your throat, turning your face to the side to hide how flustered you were.

“Whatcha ya gettin’ all shy on us for, sweetheart? You don’t gotta do that with us. I swear, I don’t bite, unless ya want me to.” Tommy said with a coy wink.

“She’s just a lil’ bashful is all, cause on the way here she was—”

You cut Joel off, squeezing his bicep firmly in your palm. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom really quick, okay?” You kissed his cheek sweetly, and before he could even get up from the booth, you were slipping past him when you saw an opening.

Joel and Tommy both watched as you quickly walked to the nearest bathroom before they looked back at one another. Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette when Joel spoke again,

“She’s got the hots for you, little brother. She made a goddamn mess all over my fingers on the way here cus’ she was thinkin’ about your cock.” Joel said in a hushed, low tone.

Tommy’s brows raised as he leaned over the table, resting his cigarette off to the side. “Fuck. Y’serious? Goddamn. She make a mess all over the seat too? Bet she fuckin’ did.”

“Mhmmm.” Joel hummed, leaning back against the seat. “She told me that you have a nice fuckin’ cock.” He chuckled, shaking his head to the side before he leaned forward, “Now, when she gets back here after composing herself, I want you to flirt with her a bit. Let her come to you, okay? Y’gotta play nice with her, Tommy. She’s a sweet thing, and I know y’all are gonna get along jus’ fine.”

“Good god.” Tommy said lowly, holding back a groan. “You hit the fuckin’ jackpot with that one, Joel. I’ll play nice with her, scouts honor. Y’know I’ll take extra good care of her.”

“I know you will. She jus’ couldn’t believe it when I said that you and I discussed the possibility of filmin’ a video with her. Absolutely blew her fuckin’ mind with that one. But god, she looked so pretty all flustered and turned on thinkin’ about the two of us fuckin’ her.” Joel reached for his glass, swirling the amber liquid around and took another slow sip.

“Fuck, I bet she did look goddamn gorgeous like that. You got yourself a real filthy and nice girl, Joel. A man’s fuckin’ dream, you lucky son of a bitch. Don’t think I’ve ever seen your grumpy ass smile that much in my whole life. It’s refreshin’ seein’ you grinnin’ like a sinner in church.” Tommy chuckled warmly.

Joel preened as he thought about you. “She’s really amazing, Tommy. She’s been so supportive and brave, and we’re having so much fun with it. It’s been so long since work has felt fun, you know? Who’d’ve thought fucking would get old.” He chuckled with a small grin playing on his lips and a flush rising on his cheeks. “Never really met anyone quite like her, honestly.”

“Goddamn. Who’s in here choppin’ up the fuckin’ onions, huh? Fuck. You’re in love with her, ain’t ya? That’s amazing. I’m seriously so fuckin’ happy for you, Joel.”

“Fuck.” Joel said suddenly, feeling his heart lurch in his chest. “Shit. Yeah—I think, I think I am in love with her. It’s not too soon, is it? I mean—we jus’ we get eachother. I’ve never felt more comfortable with another person before. She gets me, Tommy. The real me. She sees my heart before she sees my job, and no other woman in my life has ever seen me in that light.” He sniffles, feeling tears prick the corner of his eyes at his emotional confession.

“Yeah, you got the love bug bad, brother. Really, really, bad. But y’know what? I know you ain’t bluffin’ about this one either. You’re speakin’ from your goddamn heart. I hear it in your voice, and that’s a beautiful fuckin’ thing, Joel. Cus’ if anyone deserves love in this world, it’s you. So you keep holdin’ onto that, ‘Kay?” Tommy said earnestly and reached across the table to gently squeeze Joel’s shoulder

“Shuddup, Tommy. Or you’re really gonna make me cry.” Joel chuckled through his tears, quickly wiping at his eyes. “I’m gonna keep holdin’ onto her for as long as she’ll have me. I’m hopin’ she’s endgame for me.”

“I reckon she will be.”

-

After you splashed a bit of water on your face and gave yourself a detailed pep talk in the women’s bathroom, you finally mustered up the courage to face Joel and Tommy again. Joel had reassured you in the car that nothing had to happen right away. He always wanted you to be comfortable and this was something that you were still getting used to. The idea of someone caring about you that much? It used to be unfathomable .

You never realized just how good it could get until you met Joel Miller. You were hoping that he would be your endgame too.

After taking one last glance into the mirror you left the bathroom with a new confident stride as you approached the booth. Joel greeted you with a warm and reassuring smile, and when he went to get up, you gently placed your hand against his chest, easing him back down onto the leather seat before you slid in beside him.

Tommy gently nudged your ankle with the toe of his boot, testing the waters with you and heeding Joel’s words to let you come to him.

“Y’feelin’ alright, sweetheart? Can we getcha anythin?” Tommy asked softly, brown eyes looking warm and inviting across the way.

“I’m okay.” You reassured him with a small smile. “It was just—getting really hot in here.” You said with a light laugh to ease the tension.

“Tends to happen when you’re feelin’ flustered.” Tommy added as he leaned in over the table. “Y’know, sweetheart,” he started, “S’okay if I call ya that?”

You nodded, reaching for your glass and took a quick sip.

“I watched one of your films the other day, and I gotta tell ya, you have some real talent. Not jus’ sayin’ that either. I mean it. You’re gorgeous, and I jus’ wanna let you know that there’s no pressure or anythin’ alright? We don’t even gotta do anythin’ tonight if you ain’t feelin’ up for it.”

Joel leaned in close to you then, warm whiskey coated breath kissing your skin as his arm gently wrapped around you, giving you a squeeze.

“Wouldn’t believe how good that pussy is, brother. Like nothin’ else you’ve ever had. Never wanna have another, truly.” He preened, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

Your thighs clamped together immediately and you could feel the corners of Joel’s lips upturn into a small grin.

“Don’t doubt that for a second, Joel.” Tommy nodded and ashed his cigarette along the rim of his empty glass. “Sweetheart, you’re such a natural, babygirl. And I have no doubt in my mind that you’re gonna become a star.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks from both Joel and Tommy’s words and if you were already on your way to hell, well—you just bought yourself a first class ticket!

“You really think I’m gonna be a star, Tommy?” You leaned forward against the table to match his energy, feeling yourself gravitating in his direction.

“Absolutely.” He nodded. “Now, Joel here wants me to take care of ya for a little. Y’okay with that, sweetheart? He’s gonna sit here nice n’comfy if you wanna—”

You were already up from the booth, reaching for Tommy’s hand in a haste and pulling him down the aisle and towards the door of the bar.

Tommy stumbled after you, his palm warm in your grasp as he followed you to the door. But being the gentleman that he was, he held the door open for you, letting you walk past first before he followed suit. “Where do you wanna go, babygirl?” He rasped against your ear, broad arm swooping around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.

“Your truck.” you said confidently, slipping your hand into the back pocket of his dark washed jeans.

“Fuck. You wanna make a mess all over my seats too, babygirl?” He reached for his keys, twirling them around his fingers.

Goddammit, Joel. You thought.

“Did he tell you that?” You squeaked out, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“He sure as fuck did, sweetheart. He also told me that you think I have a nice fuckin’ cock.” he chuckled, guiding you towards the direction of his parked pickup truck.

“Well, you do have a nice fucking cock, Tommy. And while your brother was playing with me earlier, all I could think about was you and your cock fucking me.” You lowered your voice when an unsuspecting couple walked past the two of you.

“Mmm. I knew that you were a little freak under all those nerves, babygirl. Gonna take real good care of you, okay?” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, letting his hand curve around your hip. He was thankfully parked in a secluded spot in the lot where people would really have to pay attention to even see the debauchery that would soon be taking place.

He unlocked the back door for you, but before you could climb in, he gently pressed you back against it. “Before I fuck your brains out, I jus’ wanted to let you know that even though you’re consentin’ now, you can change your mind, okay? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone with blue balls, babygirl. I want you to enjoy yourself and if you end up not wantin’ to continue, jus’ let me know, ‘Kay?” His words were genuine like Joel’s, and as much as you appreciated them, you were going to lose your mind any second now.

“Tommy, respectfully, thank you. Disrespectfully, I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to last without your cock stuffed inside of me.” You breathed out, letting your hand drop from the side of his truck and palm him through the tight confines of his jeans. “Please, fuck me.”

That’s all it took for Tommy to surge forward, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head as his lips met yours in a bruising kiss that was all tongue and teeth, very different from Joel’s style but you fucking loved it already and wasted no time to wind your arms around his neck, carding your fingers through his thick curls, giving them a good firm tug as he reached around you to pull the door latch open.

He bit down teasingly on your lower lip, tugging it out before chasing the kiss once more. “Get that sweet ass of yours in the backseat, babygirl” he mumbled against your lips and quickly pulled the door open.

Your lips detached from his for a moment only for you to climb into the backseat, falling onto your back as you blindly reached for the hem of your shirt and yanked it over your head.

Tommy was between your legs in seconds after the door slammed shut behind him. His hands grasped at your thighs, spreading them open and positioning your calves to rest over his shoulders. He had a direct view of your covered cunt, a fresh new wet patch blooming through the fabric that sent him grinning like a devil.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart. You that wet already? Those little panties of yours are practically ruined, babygirl.” He tsked under his breath as he situated himself as best as he could on his elbows. “Can you show her to me, baby? Show me that pretty pussy.” He nipped at your exposed inner thigh, dragging the stubble along his jaw against your skin while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“I almost thought about touching myself in the bathroom when I was in there.” You let out a soft sigh as you dragged your hand down over your bare stomach and underneath the hem of your skirt. You looped your thumb around the outside of your panties, pulling them to the side revealing your puffy, soaked cunt to Tommy’s lustful gaze.

“You shoulda, babygirl. Little slut like you probably needs it all the time, huh? Fingers, a cock stuffed in you, a mouth on that pussy?” He chuckled with a grin. “Spread her open for me, sweetheart. Wanna see all of her before I fuckin’ ruin you.”

You let out a soft whimper from his words just as a droplet of arousal dripped down from your opening and slid down between your cheeks. You used your middle and forefinger to delicately spread yourself open, playing with your arousal that began to coat your fingers, and you couldn’t help but slip one finger in before slowly pulling it back out.

“Is she wet enough for you, Tommy? Maybe you need to give her a taste. See how wet she is for yourself.” You encouraged him with a subtle grin.

“Mmm. Try daddy, babygirl. Think you can call me that? You’ve got such a pretty pussy. My god. She’s already making a goddamn mess all over the seat. Go on and play with yourself for me, sweetheart. I wanna watch.”

“Oh, fuck. How did I already know that you were into the daddy kink?” You giggled softly while your fingers began to play with yourself in a teasing motion. You lightly played with your clit, letting out a soft moan as you dragged your fingers lower, teasing your entrance before slipping two fingers in. “Oh, fuck, daddy.” You moaned, watching him with hooded eyes as he began to palm himself through his jeans.

“That’s it. Good fuckin’ girl. Such a good little slut playin’ with her pussy for daddy. Gettin’ her all nice and ready for daddy’s cock.” He preened and reached for his belt buckle, undoing it so he would have a bit of relief. “You okay if daddy takes a video of this? That way you can watch it later and remember just how good I took care of you, babygirl.”

You nodded enthusiastically as you began to shallowly pump your fingers, curling them inwards before slipping them back out. “Of course you can take a video, daddy. It’ll be your souvenir.” You shot him a playful wink.

“Fuck. You’re really a naughty little slut, babygirl. Touching yourself in daddy’s truck. Gonna have to get it detailed after I’m done with you.” He snickered and reached for his phone and pulled it out of his pocket. He typed in his password quickly before opening the camera app. “Smile for the camera, babygirl.” He angled his phone towards your face and you responded with a cheesy grin, fingers working over your clit to keep yourself stimulated.

“Daddy’s here with his newest slut and her pretty pussy that’s going to be stuffed to the fuckin’ brim with daddy’s cock soon.” He brought his phone down between your thighs getting a good view of your fingers playing with yourself. “Drippin’ all over daddy’s fuckin’ seats like the naughty little slut that she is.”

“So fuckin’ wet for you, daddy.” You moaned, holding steady eye contact between Tommy’s phone and his face. “Show me your cock, please. I want to see it.”

“Ask and you shall receive, babygirl.” He shot you a wink and popped open the button of his jeans followed by his zipper. He pushed his jeans down over his hips along with his boxers. Your eyes went wide for a moment when his cock sprang free and slapped up against his taut stomach.

Tommy’s cock may have not been as thick as Joel’s, but it was longer, and curved at just the right angle.

“Get on all fours for me, baby girl.” He requested while he wrapped his fist around his cock, giving it a few languid strokes from base to tip. You couldn’t help but watch as he spit over the bulbous head, rubbing in his saliva for extra lubricant as you worked your skirt and panties off, tossing them into the front seat before you flipped over onto your stomach, situating yourself on your hands and knees.

“Well, if that ain’t a sight made in fuckin’ heaven.” He whistled and grabbed a handful of your left ass-cheek, kneading the soft flesh between his fingers before he gave it a good smack, watching it recoil back as you lurched forward, looking over your shoulder at him. Your pupils were blown wide, lower lip harshly taken between your teeth as you rocked your hips back towards him.

“Please fuck me, daddy.” You arched your back, wiggling your ass in a tantalizing motion just as he brought his hand down over your right cheek in a swift motion eliciting a surprised yelp to slip past your lips.

“You want daddy’s cock that bad, huh? Such a desperate little slut wantin’ to be stuffed full of daddy’s cock.” He slapped your left cheek then before he let his hand drift upwards against your spine, and to your shoulder blades. He gently pressed you further against the seat so that your back was arched even more.

"gonna stretch you out, gonna be ruined for anyone else." He growled against the shell of your ear. “You’re gonna be daddy’s favorite fuckin’ slut when he’s finished with you, babygirl.”

And then you felt the head of his cock press against the seam of your dripping cunt, teasing your folds and bumping against your neglected clit. “Look at you already creamin’ all over daddy’s cock. Barely even inside of you yet, sweetheart.”

You lurched forward when you felt him begin to press you open inch by inch till he was bottomed out with his hips pressed firmly against your ass. Your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ shape as he set an immediate punching rhythm that knocked the air from your lungs.

“Oh—oh fuck!” You moaned, listening to the lewd sounds of skin on skin slapping together. The squelch of your pussy and his heavy, guttural grunts as he pounded his hips into your ass over and over again.

“God, you're such a slut, babygirl. Daddy’s perfect little slut. You give it this good to all the boys, huh? God, your pussy is huggin’ me so goddamn tight.” He groaned out, almost forgetting that he had his phone in his hand still as his forehead came to rest upon your upper back. He slowed his thrusts down momentarily so you could catch your breath and he could check in on you.

“You good, babygirl?”

“Mhmm. Never better.”

He ground his hips against your ass, rolling them forward so you could feel all of him inside of you. Just when you had a moment to catch your breath, he picked the pace up once more and tossed his phone to the side so he could wrap both arms around you, yanking you back against his chest.

"such a whore, babygirl. Workin’ your way through our whole family, aren't you?" He whispered against the shell of your ear, biting down on it with his teeth as he fucked up into you at a new angle.

One hand groped one of your breasts while the other rested along the base of your neck. He was careful to not apply any pressure and get too caught up in the moment. He could feel your pussy fluttering around him, squeezing him like a vice with each pull and drag of his cock. Your eyes were shut in bliss, unabashed moans slipping past your lips as the coil in your belly was pulled tight.

The windows in Tommy’s truck had significantly begun to fog up from the steam that your activities were producing. And despite the discreet location that Tommy was parked in, you couldn’t help the rush you felt when you thought of the possibility of someone—or even Joel catching you and Tommy in this position.

Would he join right in? Fuck—

“Daddy—don’t stop, please!” You cried out, feeling that coil being pulled even tighter as your thighs began to tremble, and tears flooded your eyes: tears of overwhelming pleasure.

“That’s it, babygirl. Such a good fuckin’ cockslut for daddy. Good fuckin’ girl. You gonna come all over daddy’s cock? C’mon! Wanna see you fuckin’ coat me, sweetheart. Come all over my fuckin’ cock.” He snapped his hips forwards then, feeling his own release begin to catch up to him, but you always came first. Tommy would never let you, or any of his girls, not come before him.

He dropped one of his hands from your breasts to thum at your already sensitive clit to push you right on over the edge as you cried out his name, pulsing around his cock and seeing stars dancing behind your closed eyelids.

“There you go, babygirl. There you fuckin’ go.” His tone was much softer now as he slowly slipped out of you, his cock gleaming in your release. He gently flipped you over onto your back, cradling your face delicately in his big hands.

You had a cockdumb look on your face. Completely blissed out and in a whole other world. Your thighs fell open, as your own release drooled down the the seam of your fucked out hole and onto the interior leather seats. In this relaxed position, your pussy let out a squelching sound of air being released, causing you and Tommy to both laugh.

“Fucked her pretty good, didn’t I?” He chuckled to himself and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “You okay if I take a little look at her, babygirl? I wanna see the mess you made.”

“Mhmmm.” You hummed, lashes fluttering shut as you stretched your arms behind your head in a languid, relaxed movement.

Tommy reached for his discarded phone bringing it back down right over your still pulsing cunt as his fingers gently spread you open, sliding through the milky residue of your release.

“Fuck. So pretty, babygirl. You have such a pretty pussy.” He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to your clit, getting just a little taste before he pulled himself back up. “Definitely gonna have to get my truck detailed after this, sweetheart.” He ended the video, falling back against the seat beside you to catch his own breath.

You let out another soft, cock dumb giggle, peeking one eye open to look over at him. “You really think my pussy is that pretty, Tommy?” You dropped one of your hands to lazily rest along your stomach before dipping it between your thighs, missing that stimulated post-orgasm feeling already.

“Baby, she’s so fucking pretty. Like seriously I could happily watch you play with her for hours and easily get off to it.” He tilted his head to the side to look over at you, grin playing on his lips. “How are you feelin’?”

“Mmm. Joel loves to watch me play with myself too. Guess it’s just a Miller brother thing, huh?” You winked with a giggle. “I feel fucking amazing, Tommy.” Cock dumb and satisfied, you thought.

He preened at your response, resting his arms along the backseats as he let out a relaxed sigh. “Good, baby. I’m real happy to hear that. Means that I did my job right. And what can I say? Joel and I are big pussy lovers.” He chuckled and reached for his phone, texting Joel that they would be back shortly, and attached the video as well.

“Yeah, you guys sure are.”

-

After about twenty minutes, Tommy had to physically help you to sit up and redress. Your entire body felt like jello and you were still positively fucked out. He helped you out of the backseat, keeping his arm wrapped around you for support as he guided you back inside to the booth.

“Easy now, babygirl. Back into my brother’s lap you go. You just cuddle up with him now, ‘kay? Pussy took a real poundin’, let her rest.” Tommy cooed softly against your ear as Joel gently eased you into his lap, letting you bury your face into his neck and lazily wrap your arms around him.

“Mhmmm.” You mumbled against his neck, face scrunching up as you breathed in his natural aroma while he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your back underneath your shirt.

"Did such a good job, baby love. Tommy showed me how sweet you were to him, let him feel how soft and warm you are, hmm? My good girl. Here, baby, I got you water. Need you to take a sip, you worked hard out there." Joel murmured softly to you.

“It was so much fun. Tommy was so good to me, baby. He thinks I have such a pretty pussy.” You softly giggled and blindly reached for the glass of water, pulling your face out from where it was pressed against his neck to guzzle the liquid down before cuddling right back up against him.

“I’m happy to hear that, baby love. I knew y’all were gonna hit it off. M’so proud of my girl. And yes, baby. You do have a pretty pussy. Rest now, ‘kay?”

You were out like a light then all curled up in his lap like a koala without a care in the world.

“Whatcha do to her, huh? Got my baby all cock drunk, Tommy.” Joel asked softly, reaching for his fresh glass of whiskey and took a small sip, careful to not disturb you.

Tommy was back across the booth, a new cigarette between his lips and his arms crossed behind his head in a relaxed position.

“Took ‘er for a real good spin.” He grinned, tapping his fingers along the worn, frayed leather. “Gonna have to get the truck fuckin’ detailed though.”

“That so? She make it all messy?” Joel asked.

“Fuck. Yeah, she made it real messy alright. Had her drippin’ all down the seats.”

Joel grinned at this, glancing down at your sleeping form in pure adoration and pride. “Mmm. I believe it. She’s always fuckin’ drippin.’ Doesn’t matter what time of the day it is, my baby love is always soakin.’”

“That right? Pretty slutty cunt like hers always ready to have a big cock in her, huh?” Tommy stifled a chuckle as he sank further against the seat.

You thought you were just having a wet dream, until your hand found Joel’s and discreetly tucked it between your thighs, pressing the pads of his fingers against your ruined cunt that was pulsing once more. Little needy breaths slipped past your parted lips when he gently began to play with you, understanding that you were silently asking him to make you come one more time. You kissed along his neck, open mouthed with little nibbles here and there as you came in his lap, falling back into a relaxed state.

“Okay, think I gotta get my baby love home and in bed. She’s gonna sleep so good tonight.” Joel softly announced as he nudged you gently.

“Oh, I reckon she will be. You take good care of her, Joel. And text me when y’all are home safe, ‘kay?” Tommy nodded in Joel’s direction.

“You know I will, Tommy. I’ll text ya when we’re home.” He gave his brother a little nod and helped you out of the booth and towards the door. Once you were outside, the fresh air seemed to help you wake up a little more as you leaned all your weight into his side.

“You’re so beautiful, baby love. I’m so thankful for you, y’know that? You did so fuckin’ good. I’m so proud of you, so fuckin’ proud of my girl. Let’s get you home, okay? You’re gonna sleep so good tonight.”

“I love you, Joel Miller.” You murmured into his shoulder, one arm draped around his middle for support. You may have been cock dumb, and completely fucked out, but you words were true. You loved Joel, and he deserved to hear it.

“I love you too, baby love. My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

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[gunnrblze]

Silly/stupid/sweet domestic living headcannons for the Ghost Boys

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Hesh

-watches you sleep in the mornings before you wake up. not creepily so, he just likes seeing you so relaxed and peaceful

-takes a ridiculous amount of time in the bathroom for various reasons. not even in a weird/sexual manner, just fuckin lingers in there like a teenage girl primping her hair

-enjoys sweeping for no reason. will sweep again even if one of you already has, very clean man

Logan

-sits on counter tops regularly, doesn’t care that he’s 6’0 & built like a brick wall. if he fits, he sits

-has the time management skills of a goldfish. “I’m coming to bed in 15 minutes” half an hour later and he’s building a Lego set?

-enjoys watching your skincare routines and will silently beg for you to slather the shit on his face too. eventually he’ll ask directly but until then he just gives totally subtle puppy dog eyes

Elias

-has a recliner he’s bonded with in the living room like the old coot he is. and you’ll never talk him out of getting rid of it

-has bought you a pair of house slippers to match his. yours are probably cuter but he does secretly want to at least coordinate

-will loiter when you’re doing any kind of hobby/activity. doesn’t necessarily want to join, but will stand behind you and watch you play video games/craft/bake/etc

Merrick

-terrible farts. that’s it. wear a gas mask tbh

-snores so loud that you have to wear earplugs sometimes. doesn’t help that he likes to cuddle at night so you can quite literally feel him vibrating against you. best cuddler though

-has a decanter full of whiskey on his bedside table. not even a big drinker or anything, no, that’s just decoration to him cause he’s distinguished

Keegan

-asks you to help shave his beard, both because he gets lazy but also he wants to be pampered. “You do it better” he’ll insist

-secretly enjoys you having to ask for help with little things around the house. he loves ‘being a man’ for you. does not matter your gender

-sleeps on one old, flat, mangy pillow. it may or may not even have a case on it. you can try to get him to return to civilization and use a normal one but it’ll be difficult

Kick

-sings loudly in the shower on purpose. maybe it’s to make you laugh, maybe it’s to get you in the bathroom long enough to convince you to join him. depends on the day

-uses so many seasonings when he cooks that he sneezes a bunch. wears his mask sometimes to just prevent it all together

-whines for neck/back rubs cause he’s so sore. insists he’ll return the favor but not before he falls asleep on you

Rorke

-loves you sitting on his lap anytime of day. watching tv, eating breakfast, etc etc? he’ll perch you up on his thighs regardless, doesn’t matter to him

-grunts every time he stands up like the old man he is. “knees ain’t what they used to be”, “gahdamn, backs killin me” are frequent phrases

-constantly turning the thermostat down to make it colder, can’t stand the heat from outside getting in. insists it’s not that cold and only relents when you start to shiver

Ajax

-puts animal planet/nature docs on to fall asleep. says he just wants to watch something more relaxed before bed but he never turns it off

-very anal about shoes being taken off at the front door. will bitch and moan if shoes get past the foyer while on someone’s feet

-like your mother on a Saturday morning, is up at the ass crack of dawn listening to Celine Dion while cleaning

[cmdrfupa]

Dating toji was the best decision you’d made in the last few months. Slow pace, genuine connection and a hot man who looks like he eats bricks for lunch. Operation: First Overnight Stay is underway. And apparently so is the first snow storm of the season.

cn: Toji. Toji being hot. Toji being himself (he’s soft yanno).

The snow started much earlier that you expected, the kind of lazy, drifting flakes that almost whispered promises of an impending storm. You hadn’t thought much of it at first, snow wasn’t known for sticking around you so you figured it’d be gone by morning.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, however, the snow was coming down in thick sheets. And while the news app on your phone should’ve been buzzing with a winter storm advisory it was hushed while iMessage, Instagram, discord and the few noti’s on from tumbler had top priority.

“Where the hell is this man?” You glanced out the window, streetlights emanating their soft golden glow over the accumulating snow. It was peaceful ­ quiet in a way you didn’t often get to experience in the city. But tonight was not suppose to be about quiet. It was suppose to be your first over night with Toji staying at your place. A sleepover date if you will. Or what you loved to start calling Toji Time.

You’d spent the entirety of the afternoon nervously preparing from tidying up your bedroom, lighting a couple of your good candles in the living room, and even debating whether to pull out the joy cons to beat his ass in a few games.

It wasn’t feeling like just another date. You invited the man over to your house, it was the start of something more consistent. And now with a heavy snow fall, you couldn’t help but wonder if anything about the evening ahead would go anything like you planned.

A sharp knock broke your thoughts and you hurried to open the door. Toji stood there leaning casually against the doorframe with grocery bags in one hand and a duffel bag slung over his other shoulder.

Snow dusted his hair and the shoulders of his coat. He gave that usual cocky smirk that was always firmly in place.

“You weren’t gonna let me freeze out there, were ya?” he asked, leaning in to plant a small kiss on the top of your head.

“You’re late.” you moved out of the way and he stepped inside.” “And whats with the groceries?”

“Storms coming.” he replied, sitting the bags down before shaking his jacket off. “The roads were already looking dicey so I took my time. And I figured you’d forget to stock up.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You knew there was a storm coming?”

He raised and eyebrow, reaching into one of the bags and pulling out a roast. “You didn’t?”

Of course you didn’t. Why would you check the weather when your plans for the evening involved nothing more than a quiet dinner and, maybe, the two of you falling asleep on the couch after watching the first half of the third Lethal Weapon movie.

But now, as you watched him unpack bread, popcorn, fresh veggies, pasta, snacks that could feed 20 and even a twelve-pack of beer. It started to dawn on you that tonight was in fact not going to go as planned.

“So you planned on getting snowed in here?” you crossed your arms then made your way across the room.

Amused, Toji shot you a look. “Got a better idea? Roads are a mess already and the storm part is about to really kick. And besides,” he added, a grinch like grin spreading across his face. “This doesn’t feel like a complaint but more like a subtle nod of approval.”

With a sigh, you resisted the urge to throw something at him before cracking a smile. “You will have duties.

“Of course.”

“You’ll have to cook if it ends up being more than a day or so. And clean your pee off the seat.”

Toji came up to you and wrapped his arm around your waist. “I’m no slob. Piss belongs in the bowl and I lift the seat. Have some faith in the man you’re dating.”

“Uh huh..” you squinted at him. “Treat my home like a pig sty and you're sleeping out in that ball freezing cold, Fushiguro.” your finger felt like it hit a brick wall as you poked his chest.

He chuckled, low and rumbling, as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”

You both settled into the evening. Date night not going exactly as planned but made the best of it despite passing out only an hour into the second Lethal Weapon movie.

As the night stretched on and the snowstorm did indeed worsen with each passing hour, the atmosphere was all that you hoped.

It felt less empty, more warm and far more cozy. You began to wonder if being snowed in together might not be the worst thing after all.

______

The smell of coffee, the sound of some gruff voice singing and the lack of heat stirred you from your deep sleep om day two.

“I thought I turned the heat on last night.” The grogginess in your voice was a simple whisper as you rolled out of bed and grabbed the nearest long sleeve you could find. With a little more effort, you shuffled out of your bedroom and towards the source of your shortened sleep.

There was something making your stomach feel fluttery as you walked towards the kitchen. The closer you got, the clearer the sound of Chris Cornell’s voice became as your view became clearer: Your heat was on but the personal heater that had been keeping you warm was now shirtless in your kitchen flipping a piece of french toast.

So casual, maybe a little too comfortable with his sweatpants sitting right below his waist. His shoulders broad and slightly flexing even with as small of a movement as plating french toast then dipping another piece before.

Equal parts irritation and attraction.

“Not polite to stare, babydoll.”

You straightened up as if he could see you even with his back turned. “I didn’t know you got up this early.”

Toji turned 45 degrees, giving you just a peek at the full breakfast he’d almost finished cooking. “Not a fan of staying in bed long. At least my stomach isn't a fan” He smiled and nodded towards the coffee pot on the counter closest to you. “I remember you saying you liked that bustelo cafe stuff. I hope its strong enough.”

“You didn’t have to,” You shuffled over to the machine, seeing that a mug was already sitting out. “And the mug I use. Thank you, Toji.”

“Of course. Thought I’d at least feed you good if I’m going to be in your space for a couple days. Though,” Toji flipped the french toast over then turned to you ‘ If you want to pay me back, you can via those little crispy shits you brought to me that one day.”

You sucked in your lips, trying your best not to laugh as you poured your creamer in. “The little crispy shits are called palmiers. And I got you.”

“Palmiers. Crispy shits. Whatever, they are delicious. You know how to make a man ache and yearn with those things.” he winked before turning back, taking out the final piece of toast and plating it.

“Need any help?” you tried peeking around him to see the rest of what he had plated and he moved his shoulders to hide it.

“Aht. Sit.” Toji blocked your view but you didn’t miss his grin as he did. “I’m almost done. Just tell me how you like your eggs and we’ll be ready to eat.”

You watched him almost expertly crack the eggs open as he cooked them to your liking. Then you watched how his weight shifted from one hip to the other as he leaned against the counter.

There was something about just how his pants were sitting that made you feel a rush of heat across your neck. This man was built. A true dad bod with a slight pudge that sat atop his waist band. Stocky and plenty to climb. “Are you not cold just wearing pants?”

He sat the plate in front of you then sat his across from you. “I’m honestly a little warm. From the cooking probably.”

Toji went to pour himself some coffee, sipping the black drink and humming as he shuffled back to the table. “You were like a heater last night. Will definitely be needing that heated cuddle again tonight.”

You began to cut into your french toast, taking a bite and closing your eyes as the cinnamon and vanilla flavors mingled on your tongue. You heard Toji snicker and it brought you back. “What?”

He turned his smile downward and shook his head as he took a bite of his fried egg then bacon. “Just sounds like you enjoyed sleeping with me.” He chewed and kept his eye contact. “I enjoyed sleeping next to you also.”

You hadn’t even had sex together and this man made you feel like he had you twisted up like a pretzel last night. You cleared your throat and tried to ignore the tingly feeling that crept up your spine as you stuffed your mouth of the toast and a piece of bacon to avoid saying anything.

He began to make light conversation. Passive thoughts on the holiday market he wants to visit with you and the guys at his gym who he knocked out first round when sparring. “So now he’s probably going to try and get me banned but jokes on him, Shiu has been my guy for decades.”

The trail your eyes let from his pecs back to his face was embarrassing. Another forkful of toast and sip of coffee to hopefully keep him from saying literally anything.

“Glad to see you enjoying my cooking. My pleasure to fuel you for the day ahead.” Toji winked knowing you were practically paralyzed from his teasing. “I’ll take care of dishes pretty. Just go get warm.”

The bastard.

-----—————-

As midday rolled around, Toji opted to nap it out on the couch, which left you attempting to do the same with no success. You’d been lounging around all morning post breakfast with Toji. Cuddling and talking which left him tired but you feeling restless. So you took to old faithful pinterest, set on finding some soup ideas to surprise man the same way he did you this morning.

“Kathiew..” a cambodian beef noodle soup “Hmm.. beef bones, oxtail bones, five spice, doot doot dooooo.’ you quickly browsed over the rest of the list. “I actually have all these things?” you got up and went to your freezer, pulling out the meats then to your fridge to pull out the vegetables not looking at the spices as you knew you had them.

“Well shit. I do have everything.” You wasted no time prepping your ingredients. Cleaning the bones, charring the vegetables and getting everything on a low boil as you added your five spice, rock sugar other flavors to the large pot.

You weren’t use to cooking so much, it was just you and had been you for quite awhile, unless you were cooking for your coworkers. And this recipe was honestly a bit of a larger bite than your usual pinterest picks, but it felt well worth it. You were taking this whole dating thing seriously and he had an appetite.

“Maybe it is the way to the heart.” You teased yourself at the stride of cooking for a man you’d been dating for almost 5 months and the furthest you’d gone was twirling your tongue around each others like two teenagers. But you liked taking it this slow. It’s how you liked your fics and it was proving to be a great for your own love life.

The soup would take almost all day so you decided on an easy baking venture of palmiers and a small banana bread loaf.

Mid cookie forming and the sound of a bears yawn caught your ear. “Babydoll? You get tired of me and drift off into the snow?” his grog laced voice sent a warm trickle down your back as he shuffled into the kitchen. He took you in starting with the sway of your hips then your eyes as you peered over your shoulder to him.

“In here making your little crispy shits.” you picked up another small piece of dough, rolling it into the palm leaf shape and placed it on the cookie sheet.

“Oooo. And you’ve got them a little larger. They look good.”

“Mhm.”

Toji wrapped an arm around your waist and gently pushed into you as he placed a small kiss at the crown of your head. “And whatever you’re cooking smells absolutely delicious. You’ve been busy, girl.”

You shook your head and smiled. “You’ve also been asleep for 5 hours. Needed to occupy my time with something so I tried out a new recipe. A beef noodle soup called Kathiew. Looks very promising.”

The atmosphere should have been perfect, cozy and intimate, but his offhand remark shattered the fragile balance as you went to place the first batch of palmiers in the oven.

“Didn’t realize this snowstorm was an excuse to play house,” he said, his tone teasing but his words sharp enough to sting. “Top contender with doing all this.”

You froze mid-step, turning to look at him. His expression was unreadable, but the comment landed squarely on a nerve you hadn’t realized was exposed. The evening was supposed to be special, a milestone in your relationship. Instead, it felt like he was brushing it off as something trivial.

“If that’s how you see it,” you said, your voice quieter than usual, “then why are you even here?”

Toji’s smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, straightening up slightly. “You’re the one making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Nothing?” you echoed, incredulous. You placed the sheet you were holding onto the table with more force than necessary, the clatter cutting through the silence. “Do you know how much I thought about you staying over here? How much I wanted this to be a nice next step in whatever this is to you?”

“And it is nice. More than,” he said, his tone edging toward defensiveness. “You’re getting worked up over a joke. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just relax.”

“That’s the problem,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You never mean anything by it. So what am I supposed to think? That you just show up because you’ve got nothing better to do or you didn’t want to be snowed in all alone and pitiful? To play house with a woman.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The weight of your words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. You could see the gears turning in his head, the way his fingers flexed as though he was trying to figure out what to say. But Toji wasn’t someone who dealt in words; he dealt in actions. And actions, you realized, weren’t enough for you right now.

You looked at him for a moment as you cleaned off your hands. “I need a few minutes to myself.” you mumble before walking past him, leaving him at a loss of what to say and do.

“Shit. Babe wait,” he didn’t reach for you, instead following close behind as you walked hastily to your bedroom. “That isn’t.. just wait.”

“I need time alone. Please.” you quickly closed the bedroom door in his face and tried to make sense of what exactly made you respond this way. Top contender? Was he just playing you? Feeding you all this nonsense on being so into you only to play house?

“Fuck fuck.” Toji stared at the door for a moment, unsure how he was suppose to recover from this. He knew he fucked up big. “Top contender? There isn’t even another one, the fuck was I saying?” He whispered to himself, heavy hands dragging down his face as he took a step back, sliding down the wall until he sat on the floor.

It’s quiet in the apartment, save for the soft hum of the heater and the occasional whistle of the wind outside After what felt like an eternity, Toji let out a slow breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Look,” he started, his voice quieter now, less defensive. “I’m not good at this stuff, alright? But if I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here. You think I’m buying groceries for everybody? Cooking breakfast for just any woman? You are literally the only contender, the one contender I want and need.”

The unexpected vulnerability in his words caught you off guard. For all his bravado and sarcasm, this was Toji’s way of admitting something deeper, even if he couldn’t say it outright.

“You’re serious?” you asked, your voice softening.

He gave you a look, part exasperation, part something else—something gentler, as if you could see him through the door.. “Do I look like the kind of guy who’d stick around in a storm if I wasn’t?”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “I just... I don’t want to feel like I’m the only one trying, you know?”

Toji’s expression shifted, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something more genuine. He stood up and moved closer to the door. “You’re not,” he said simply. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

The words weren’t grand or poetic, but coming from him, they meant more than anything else he could have said. You nodded, the knot in your chest loosening as you realized he was trying—in his own way, he was trying. You slowly opened the door and looked up to see the softened gaze in his eyes.

Your lips twitched into a reluctant smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as you stepped into the hallway and poked his chest. “I really need to know that this isn’t some for fun thing once we have sex or im some temp girlfriend for you.”

Shaking his head, Toji took your hand and led you to the couch, sitting you down before sitting right next to you. “Honesty hour time. Ready?”

“Are you wanting to be that honest?”

The earnest look in his eyes gave you your answer.

With a deep sigh, he sat up and spoke slowly. “You’re my first real thing in a long time. Like long long time.” Toji squeezed your hand as he tried to work his way through his thoughts. “You know how in movies and shit when they say that their person makes them feel comfortable and like home?”

Your lips twitched into a reluctant smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. ‘You’re calling me your person.”

“You didn’t know that?” He grabbed your other hand, sitting on the edge of the couch to look directly in your eyes. “I might be shit at this type of thing, But you are mine. You quite literally cussed out that lady who tried scamming me out of 300 bucks.”

“Toji. Thats just a random Tuesday for me.”

He laughed out loud while holding your face with his, that look of adornment filling his green eyes as he saw the warmth and genuine care he had for you flood his mind. “You being you is why I adore you in every way. I apologize for my words. They were fucked up and you didn’t deserve that.”

“We are both learning and figuring it out. You just have to be real and open with me.”

“I’m willing and ready. I promise.” toji leaned in to kiss your forehead and lingers for a moment before pulling back only a few inches.

“You are going to give me a headache. I swear.” You beamed as he helped you stand up and let you lead him to the kitchen.”

“Maybe. But It’ll mean I’m always on your mind.”

“Holy shit, Fushiguro, you’re actually unbearable.”

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

The storm outside has finally started to ease, but the world beyond the windows is still blanketed in thick, untouched snow. The apartment felt warm and lived-in after three days together, an unspoken rhythm forming between the two of you.

You’re in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as Toji scrapes batter into a pan to make pancakes. He’s shirtless again because why wouldn’t he be and moving with the casual confidence of someone who’s been here a hundred times before.

“I’ve gotta admit,” you speak up, watching as he expertly flips a pancake. ‘You really are the poster boy for domesticating a man.

He smirks, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Don’t get used to it. This is a special occasion.”

“Oh, being snowed in with me is a special occasion now?”

“Damn right it is,” he says without missing a beat.

You laugh, shaking your head as you grab plates from the cabinet. There’s an ease to the conversation now, a closeness that wasn’t quite there three days ago but formed after last nights conversations. As Toji finishes the pancakes, he nudges you gently out of the way to grab syrup, his hand briefly resting on your hip before he moves past.

“You’re in my kitchen,” you tease, setting the plates down on the small table.

“I’m making the food, aren’t I?” he shoots back, but there’s no real edge to it.

The two of you settle in to eat, the conversation drifting between teasing banter and quiet moments of shared warmth. Toji, as usual, eats like he hasn’t seen food in days, and you can’t help but laugh at the sight.

“You’re really making yourself at home, huh?” you say, resting your chin in your hand as you watch him.

He pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth, and gives you a look. “What, you want me to leave?”

You roll your eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

There’s a beat of silence before he leans back in his chair, his expression shifting slightly. He’s still got that casual confidence, but there’s something softer in the way he looks at you now.

“I was thinking,” he starts, scratching the back of his neck like he’s trying to find the right words.

“Dangerous,” you quip, earning a small smirk from him.

“Funny,” he says dryly before continuing. “I was thinking... this hasn’t been so bad. You know, us being stuck here.”

You raise an eyebrow, playing along. “Oh? High praise coming from you.”

“So,” he said casually, “what are we calling this?”

You paused mid-bite, looking up at him. “Calling what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Us. You’ve got me snowed in, wearing your apron, cooking breakfast… Feels like I should be getting some kind of title out of this.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your fork down. “Are you asking me to define the relationship, Toji?”

He shrugged, but there was a faint hint of color on his cheeks. “I’m just saying, if I’m sticking around, I might as well make it official. Save myself the headache of wondering if some guy’s gonna swoop in while I’m not looking.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he danced around the subject, his usual bravado masking a vulnerability he didn’t quite know how to express. “So you want to be exclusive?” you asked, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He leaned forward then, his green eyes locking onto yours. “What I want is to make sure you know I’m serious about this. About you. So tell me what we are. And I am so locked in with you.”

The sincerity in his voice took you by surprise, and for a moment, you just stared at him, your heart swelling with warmth. Then, unable to resist, you reached across the table and laced your fingers through his.

“Okay,” you said softly. “We’re exclusive.”

A slow grin spread across his face, and he gave your hand a light squeeze. “Good. Now eat your pancakes before they get cold.”

“You can warm them and me up then.”

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, but there’s a warmth to his tone that softens the words.

“And yet, you’re still here,” you tease, your smile softening.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as you picked up your fork. The two of you ate in comfortable silence, the snowstorm outside nothing more than a memory. And as you sat there, sharing a meal and stealing glances at each other, you realized this—this feeling of warmth and belonging—was exactly what you’d been hoping for all along.

The snowstorm may have brought you together, but this—this closeness, this warmth—is what’s keeping you here.

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls Chapter 11 1/2

masterpost

“It’s hard to believe that these people aren’t on any warning lists yet,” Jason mumbled to himself at the base of the sidewalk where he’d parked the rental bike. He had his hands in his pockets as he craned his neck upwards, trying to be stoic about the Fenton residence. A van was parked on the street, probably theirs. Weirdly, it had a big canvas draped over it. All he could see were the tires.

The base of the house was an unremarkable brick rectangle, taller than it was long. But the customization job had not been subtle. There was of course the enormous neon sign that Jack Fenton had probably designed. He wondered if he saw Madeline Fenton’s guiding hand in the shitty space-age aesthetic of the hulking metal goliath crouched on top of the brick building.

There was zero percent chance that was legal, which led to the question of why the city officials weren’t enforcing building safety on an obvious hazard.

Jason blew out air and snorted. “This is definitely the place.” He jogged up the unkempt lawn and hit the bell. An alarm started whining inside.

His hackles went up. A hand curled towards a gun, but didn't fully commit.

A joyful whoop came from inside the house. It was quickly followed by a bellowed “Coming!”, and then a huge thud.

Very normal, thanks.

‘Is that really just their doorbell?’ Jason thought, aghast.

The door was wrenched open. “Hello, hello, come in!” A beautiful middle-aged woman was there, looking up only slightly to make eye contact with Jason. She had faint laugh and smile lines.

“Hello,” Jason said, hesitating. “Do you need to finish up in the lab?” He gestured at her outfit, a little unnerved to see protective equipment just out in the open. It made him feel underdressed. It was always a bad idea to be wearing less protection from chemical warfare than someone else in the area. His Gothamite sensibilities considered it both a faux pas and a tactical error.

Madeline Fenton made a flapping hand gesture to blow the idea away. “No, I'm at a good spot!” The grin she gave him was somehow sharklike. “Jeremy, honey, won’t you come in?”

‘Said the spider to the fly,’ his subconscious filled in for some reason.

Jason shook it off, thanked her, and entered the house. Then he drew his gun on the thing that levered out of nowhere to point at him.

Turret. It was a fucking gun turret, in the entryway.

Madeline Fenton let out a cheerful “Huh!” and put her hand on top of the turret. There was a faint beep as she disengaged whatever alarm that had been. “You don’t have any stowaways, do you?”

She was not a good enough actor. He didn’t know what the hell that he meant, but he could hear real tension beneath her cheerful tone. “No, ma’am,” Jason edged. “Not that I know of.”

There was a pause. It felt a little heavy. Jason slowly holstered his gun, despite the wary suspicion that he actually might need to defend himself.

The moment passed. Dr. Madeline Fenton whirled around and cupped a hand to her face to sweetly shout, “Jack! Honey! Our guest is here!”

Something extremely heavy thudded. The floor actually shook under Jason’s feet from the impact.

The smile on Dr. Madeline Fenton’s face didn’t falter. A chill went up his spine.

‘She has to be on a watchlist. No way. I just didn’t find it.’

He followed her to the living room where she gestured for him to take a seat. A huge man burst through the other door.

“What did they feed you?” Jason asked blankly. “Do they have more of it?” Sure, he’d never fit in his current gear, but Talia had deep pockets for custom armor.

Dr. Jack Fenton had a hearty laugh. The couch creaked when he threw himself on it, but impressively, nothing broke. “Standard stuff growing up I’m afraid,” he said cheerfully. “I feed myself an awful lot of fudge, though! Maybe that’s what did it.”

While he was talking Jason barely noticed Madeline Fenton had slunk off in horrifically perfect silence, like a red-haired Talia. He respected that, but he did not like it.

‘She’s going to be the Doctor to me,’ Jason decided. ‘Jack is just Jack. I’m tired of calling them the same thing.’

“Oh,” Jason pretended to just now notice that someone was gone. He looked around. “I’m sorry, where did Dr. Fenton go?”

“Just getting refreshments!” Jack said cagily. He leaned forward. “Now, Jeremy, son-” he was cut off by a low siren coming from his wrist. He paused. He lifted his hand and pointed it around the room. The noise got louder when he pointed it at Jason.

[mysaintkitten]

hi g!! firstly i have to tell you how much i love your work, you’re incredibly talented and i’m always so excited whenever you post something.

i have this idea for a story: you and neil have dated for months but you recently split up and neither of you seem to get over the other, so one night after a failed attempt on forgetting him you somehow end up in his bed again. old habits die hard…

hope u have a nice day :)

first of all .. thank you so much !! you are so incredibly kind !! second of all, i made this a liiiiiittle bit angsty and fluffy but still smutty !! i loved the breakup sex idea so i was so eager to write about this :)

Break Up | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

prompt: you and neil split up (NSFW!!!! NO MINORS!!!!)

WARNINGS: (brief) fighting, (brief) mentions of mental health struggles, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), creampie

word count: 3.8k

the break up was messy. both you and neil shot vile, unnecessary insults at each other as he scrounged around your shared apartment to gather his belongings before leaving.

“you’re pathetic, neil. absolutely fucking pathetic.” you spat, desperate to make a dig that’ll hurt him.

“you know what? you aren’t even worth all this anyway.” neil snarls before swinging the door open, “you’re a cold-hearted cunt and i hope i never have the displeasure of seeing you again.”

you scoff, “feelings mutual, sweetheart.”

before he’s even fully out the door, you violently slam it shut, bumping neil in the process. he mumbles a few more profanities before finally leaving.

moments after this altercation, you’re left pacing around the living room. your mind flooded with him, the memories, the pain. what starts off as vicious rage, quickly switches into overwhelming despair. you just collapse. your knees falling to the ground as you sob into your hands. how did this happen? how can something so good sour so quickly?

neil fell victim to the same fate. he kept his composure until he got into his car. as soon as he shut the door, he was hit with a subtle waft of your essence. he wasn’t sure what exactly he was smelling, whether it was your detergent, or body wash, or perfume, but it was your smell. and it hit him like a ton of bricks. he teared up a bit, but he tried his best to stay calm until he found somewhere to stay for the night.

he drove to some miscellaneous pizza place and cried in the parking lot. god, he thinks, this is almost worse than crying in front of you. he feels pathetic, angry, depressed. he wipes his face and heads into the pizza shop, orders himself a pizza, and calls jonathan while he waits.

“hey dude, i know this is short notice, do you mind if i crash at your place for a bit? (y/n) and i broke up, it was really bad man ..” neil asks while pacing around outside the shop awkwardly.

“yeah, dude, of course. however long you may need. plus, while you’re here i need to discuss some things to you about a shipment that lucien and i picked out.” jonathan responds.

neil appreciates jonathan’s hospitality, but the last thing he wants to talk about is business. he wants to crawl onto jonathan’s couch and sleep, at least for a day or two, just avoid the world all together. but he’s an adult man, a business man at that, depression won’t pay the bills.

“yeah yeah,” neil answers, “sounds good. i’ll bring a pizza by too. maybe i’ll pick up some beers.”

“sick!” jonathan says eagerly, he appreciates the bare minimum, that’s what neil likes about him, “let me know when you’re here i’ll buzz you up.”

they say their goodbyes and neil hangs up, continuing to linger outside the store. he basks in the silence of the streets, the cool breeze, the dull and numb feeling that’s stuck in his chest.

once the pizzas ready, he thanks the workers and tips them graciously. he then picks up the beers for him and jonathan to share, before quickly speeding over to jonathan’s apartment, trying to get there while the pizzas still warm.

he arrives to jonathan’s place and they do as expected, eat, drink, watch movies, discuss business. neil feels as though he’s watching himself through some sort of film, like he’s not in control of his body. it felt uneasy. he believes the severity of the breakup has caused him minor disassociation, in some way. he’s desperate to vent. he has thousands of pent up feelings boiling within him and he needs to let out even the slightest bit of steam.

neil swallows harshly, “you know, man, i just really think i screwed it up with (y/n) ..”

“yeah, chicks are crazy.” jonathan retorts while grabbing neil’s empty plate from in front of him. jonathan doesn’t like to talk about feelings very much, that’s what neil doesn’t like about him.

but neil gets the hint. no sense in rambling to a man who won’t listen. so he grabs his beer and chugs down the rest, almost immediately proceeding to crack open another one.

jonathan puts on a movie that he knows neil likes and the two sit in near silence and watch. jonathan’s silent because he’s paying attention, neil’s silent because his mind is reeling. all he can think about is what he said to you, what you said to him, what it’ll be like to see you out in public. it branches into what’ll it be like when he sees you out with someone else? he can’t stomach the thought right now, he needs to go to sleep.

neil sits through the movie, trying his hardest to pay attention to what’s on screen and try to forget what had happened earlier. he wasn’t successful. but he tried.

the movie ends and jonathan pats his knees before standing up, “well, i gotta crash,” he yawns, “help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. use the tv if you’d like, just keep the volume at a decent level.”

“no yeah, definitely. thanks again, man.” neil responded.

the entire night he lays awake. he tosses and turns trying to sleep, but his mind won’t rest.

he stays this way for a few days.

he starts to slowly move on, little by little, until one day he hears that you were spotted with a guy. as soon as those words hit his ears, he feels a lump form in his throat. that’s it. that’s his breaking point.

without much thought, he storms off to his car and drives over to the shared apartment that you have now taken basically full ownership over. he hurriedly rushes inside while being bombarded with visuals of you with other guys, you fucking them, them using you, and worst of all, them just being affectionate with you. thinking of you holding their hand, them kissing your cheek and making you giggle, you dancing in the kitchen with them. just like you used to do with him.

before he’s even realized it he’s ended up outside your door. he stands there for a few seconds to gather his thoughts, he didn’t really come over with a plan, he just felt compelled to come.

neil raises his hand and knocks on your door. he can hear your footsteps approaching. but what if it’s a guy coming? your new boy-toy? he doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if he sees your new partner right now.

you swing the door open, confused and shocked to see neil on the other side.

your eyes widen, “uh .. neil .. what ar-“ you say before he nudges you lightly out of the way, “i forgot some things ..” he mumbles before quickly making his way to your bedroom.

“neil? what did you forget?” you call out, trying to catch up to him, “hello? what did you forget?”

“oh, am i interrupting something? just give me a minute.” he groans rudely

“interrupting? what are you implying?” you question, feeling even more confused.

“oh, nothing, i just didn’t know if your new boyfriend was over, or whatever.”

the confusion starts to become anger, “what? neil, what the fuck is wrong with you? who said i have a new boyfriend? and what business is it to you anyway?”

he turns to you and laughs, “we’ve been broken up for less than a month and you’re already moving on! did i not matter at all to you?”

“again, even if i was seeing someone new, it’s not your business.” you snap, crossing your arms in front of your body.

he just scoffs as he feels tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes, “i’ll get what i forgot and i’ll leave. you’ll never see me again.”

you can hear something in his tone, “neil? are you alright?”

you’re fuming, he’s infiltrated your space and now he’s attempting to start a fight? but simultaneously, you still feel a deep sense of empathy for him. you’re still in love with him after all.

“i’m f-fine.” he stammers, actively keeping his back towards you while sifting through piles of clothes, he can’t bear to see your face right now.

“are you sure? you don’t sound alright ..” you reply softly, placing a hand on his shoulder soothingly.

“i’m fine! jesus, (y/n)! just let me look, please!” his voice cracks as he swats your hand away, he knows he can only keep up this front for so long.

“neil, we were together for months, i know you better than you know yourself, tell me what’s wrong.”

we were together.

those three words made him nauseous to hear, he knew the two of you were done, but to hear it hurt on a different level.

he loses it, the tears start to pour out from his eyes.

you hear him begin to cry quietly, his hands coming up to cover his face.

“what is it?” you ask one last time as your voice begins to break, you had been struggling as well. but you, like neil, kept it mostly to yourself. you rotted away in your apartment, barely even showering or maintaining yourself. but today he saw you on a relatively good day, you felt motivation to shower and clean. if he had caught you on any other day, you would’ve been absolutely mortified.

neil finally turns around, his face red and cheeks wet with tears.

“what happened to us?” he sighs, “we were so good, (y/n),” your eyes are nearly welling with tears. “i thought i was going to marry you.” he adds, his voice barely above a whisper.

you’re at a loss for words, you didn’t know what happened either. it’s like one day something between you just switched. you were both stubborn, but that had never been an issue, until it was mixed with unexpected changes and outside stressors, you eventually just couldn’t stand each other.

you can’t hold it in anymore, you begin to sob in front of him.

“i loved you, neil.” you walk closer to him, “i didn’t mean what i said. i just felt hurt, and i wanted to hurt you back.”

“i know,” he chuckles through the tears, “i know. i felt the same, i didn’t mean it either.”

you missed neil, so so dearly, and you wished that he could come back to make amends. now here he is, and here’s your opportunity.

you swallow your pride, “i miss you.”

you see something shift within him once those words leave your mouth, “i miss you too.” he mutters.

he grabs your face and runs his thumb along your cheek before planting a kiss on your lips. you’re shocked, but you wanted this. you’ve been craving this. you kiss him back.

he pulls away briefly to see your expression, but you lean forward immediately to kiss him again more passionately.

he groans into your mouth, bringing his hands down to the dip of your back.

“missed you so much ..” he whines into your mouth while wrapping his arms around your waist, clenching you close to his body. you bring your hands up to your head and run your fingers through his hair, occasionally bringing your hands down to touch his shoulder blades.

neil slips his hands under your shirt and unclasps your bra.

“mmh .. neil, we can’t ..” you groan between kisses, although you aren’t making much efforts to stop him

he slips his tongue into your mouth and makes the kiss sloppier, moaning softly in the process

“let me make it up to you .. please ..” he begs, creeping his hands down to your ass.

he grips it gently and feels himself growing hard. since the breakup, he’s had a lot of pent up sexual tension. he’s been couch surfing, which isn’t exactly ideal for private intimate times, so he was rarely able to get off. so now even just the sensation of your ass has him popping a chub already.

as you kiss, he starts to slowly guide you towards the bed. eventually the end of the bed meets the back of your legs, and you stumble back with neil on top of you.

you detach from his lips and shuffle your body back, neil follows your lead and moves his lips down to your neck, kissing and sucking softly. his lips on your neck and the warm friction of his body is causing you to get undeniably wet. this isn’t the best way to go about things, you and him should’ve maybe had a civil and thoughtful discussion. but you suddenly feel his bulge graze against you, neither of you are in the right state to sit and talk.

his kisses begin to move downward to your collar bone, almost to your chest, but he halts.

“can you take off your shirt?”

without responding, you slip your shirt and now unclasped bra off. he resumes his kisses down your chest until he gets to one of your nipples, he swirls his tongue around the harding bud, suckling on it gently soon after while moaning lowly.

you gasp and arch your back, “missed these tits ..” he groans against your skin, bringing one of his hands up to knead your other breast.

before long, his kisses trail down your torso, sliding his hands down your sides to grip your hips. his kisses stop at your navel, where he looks up at you from between your legs, slinking his fingers down to your waistband where he hooks his fingers in. he tugs them down lightly, but stops. watching your face attentively for your approval.

you raise your hips and allow him to continue to pull your pants and underwear off. he moves out of the way briefly to efficiently tear them off, before quickly going back to where he was originally, directly between your legs. he groans at the sight of your wetness.

neil places small kisses along your inner thighs while latching his hands beneath them, his lips inching closer and closer to your pussy. he plants a wet kiss on your lower lips, making you whine at the sudden, but much needed gesture.

he continued to kiss, sloppier and sloppier, until the kisses become blatant licks against your clit.

“mmh! ne-il!” you whimper, rutting against his face slightly. he hums, gripping your thighs harder, “missed this cunt so much ..”

as you moan and rut, neil gets more determined to make you come on his face. he laps you up, occasionally dipping down to use his nose while he prods your hole with his tongue, or using his chin to rub your clit while he stares at you twitching in bliss. he’s utilizing his face in ways he never has before, he seems nearly ravenous.

he sucks on your clit gently before detaching his mouth, “use my face t’come, show me how much you want it.”

“i want it,” you moan breathily as you lock your fingers into his hair, “i want it so bad!”

he smiles against you. sucking, rubbing, and licking all of your sensitive areas. you using his face purely to get off gets him unbearably hard, he begins to grind against the mattress beneath him for some sort of relief

your gasps and whines progressively get louder and louder, to the point where your eyes are squeezed shut and your mouth hangs slightly slack, neil just watches. he missed you as a person, as a partner, but he also missed watching you be pleased. the way your body and face contorts, knowing it’s all from his touches, it just couldn’t compare to anything else.

his jaw is sore, his scalp hurts from your pulling, and the entire lower half of his face is dripping wet with a mixture of your arousal and his own saliva, but he has no intentions of stopping. not until you come on his face.

your ruts start to get quicker and needier, your thighs shaking and tensing in the process as you gasp and beg for neil to make you come.

“please, please, please,” you babble quietly, “i’m so close.”

neil can barely breathe, and he’s so incredibly hard he’s afraid he may faint from the loss of blood and oxygen flow. he groans against your pussy, crude sounds of moans and slight squelching fill the room.

your orgasm is inching closer and closer until it finally hits. your mind going blank and your hips movements coming to a stop, your thighs clench around him and twitch around his head. you’re quiet as you come, as if the air has been sucked from your lungs. neil licks you through your high, until you’ve become too sensitive and have to push him away.

“too much .. too much ..” you whine, neil hesitantly pulls away. he could stay between your legs forever.

he places small kisses on your inner thighs and sighs deeply against you. once he catches his breath, he trails back up your body with kisses. eventually his lips end up at your neck, he places a small lick onto the shell of your ear while sneaking his hand between his legs and palming himself.

“nothing else compares to you .. nothing .. no one ..“ he mumbles, hastily unzipping his fly and pulling his pants down with one hand, “i think your pussy was designed just f’me ..”

you whimper and place your hands on his clothed back, “this .. off .. please-“

he places one more wet kiss on your neck before sitting his body up. his eyes are glossy and his lips are a rich pink colour. he takes off his shirt and you can’t help but compliment him,

“you look so handsome.” you chuckle

he smirks, “thanks, i think eating pussy gives you some sort of natural glow, or so i’ve heard.”

you roll your eyes playfully and hook your fingers into his boxers waistband, “take these off, too.”

neil laughs breathily and removes his boxers, his hard, sensitive member springing free. his tip glistens from his arousal, you bring your hand to his cock and grip him weakly while pumping him.

he moans and his eyes shoot down to between his legs, watching you pump him, “oh, fuck ..”

his moans enable you further, you begin to pump him quicker. he huffs and whines before gripping your wrists and stopping your movements, “stop, stop”

you let go, “if you keep going i’ll come on your hand, i need your pussy.” he mewls as he lowers himself between your legs and aligning his cock head with your opening.

your pussy is extremely slick from the combination of his spit, your orgasm, and your persistent arousal, so he slides himself in with no issue. making the both of you groan at the sensation. as he bottoms out, he just sits inside you for a few moments, simply enjoying the embrace of your warm and wet cunt. you whine at the fullness you had been missing, while neil was away you’d attempt to finger yourself, but your own fingers didn’t compare at all to his cock. the feeling reminds you of what neil said, “i think your pussy was designed just for me”, maybe it’s truer than you thought.

his hips shift back and he slowly thrusts himself out, before quickly snapping back in. his pace is quick and needy, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him fuck you so desperately.

“neil-l .. mmh!” you gasp, swinging your hand over your mouth to cover your loud moans. neil chuckles and swipes your hand out of the way, “let me hear you, your noises are so pretty.”

“o-oh, stop ..” you tease, having just enough composure within you to still banter slightly with neil as he fucks you

“‘m serious ..” he moans, “hearing how good my cock is making y’feel .. so fucking sexy ..”

his pace gets rougher, and you almost instantly lose whatever snarky response you had in mind, “god, f-uck!” you cry out, bringing your hands down to your sides to grab the duvet beneath you.

as he thrusts into you, his eyes dart between your fucked-out face and your tits, which are bouncing slightly from his force. he places a hand onto your hip and the other onto your tit, both hands gripping harshly on whatever they’re grabbing. you whine at the aggression, feeling it get you hotter and wetter.

neil huffs and glances down at your pussy, whimpering at what he sees, “jesus, so fucking wet”

“you got me t-this wet ..” you stammer, feeding into neil’s neediness.

he moans, “y-yeah?”, his voice high and shaky, normally he’d want to come off as dominant and basically stoic, but right now he’s absolutely pussy-whipped, he couldn’t pull himself together if he tried.

hearing the pleasure in his tone makes you hum, your legs wrapping around him and squeezing him lightly.

he laughs and gulps, “so desperate to keep my cock inside.”

you nod quickly and snake your hand between your legs to rub your clit as you clench around him involuntarily. neil whimpers small sounds of approval, knowing how close you are to coming. his breaths are heavy and he’s having a hard time keeping up the quick rough pace, both of you are approaching your orgasms rapidly. the aesthetics of it really don’t matter, the pleasures your bodies are giving each other is what matters above all else.

“gonna come ..” neil swallows, “gonna come ..”

you wanna tell him you’re going to come too, but you physically can’t vocalize it, but you assume your whimpers and clenching and wetness is telling enough.

moments later, you’re coming on his cock, “n-eil!” you shout as your body convulses slightly from the overwhelming sensation. watching you come pushes him over the edge completely, “yeah, yeah, fuck!” he rambles, his brows furrowing and mouth hanging slack as he comes while continuing to pump himself inside you.

you ride out your orgasms until it eventually becomes too overstimulating for the both of you, he pulls out his softening cock and huffs. your thighs twitch at the feeling of his and yours come begin to slowly drip out from inside of you. neil smirks proudly “i missed seeing this too .. so goddamn much ..”

after that, you and him sit in silence for a little. you don’t really know what to say, and you don’t know what you are. still exes? friends? partners?

instead of pondering, you think fuck it and just ask;

“what are we now?”

“what do you want us to be?” he responds

“i want us to get back together.”

“i want that, too.”

——

back to my old reliable .. neil !!!

[loulou-land]

Prompt: “I Don’t See a Future With You”

Pairing: rockon | deacon kay/donovan rocker | 979 words | angst and mentions of infidelity

Prompt list used: here

The sound of heavy panting filled the dimly lit motel room, the scent of sweat and sex suspended in the air. The weight of things unspoken pressing down on its two inhabitants. They laid side by side on the stiff mattress, bodies still charged with the electrifying aftermath of another reckless rendezvous.

Rocker's chest rose and fell in sync with Deacon's, but the consonance ended there. In that moment, he came to the startling realization that they'd never been on the same page—hell, he didn't think they were on the same damn book at all.

Rocker would blame what happened next on the post-nut clarity—or maybe just the overwhelming exhaustion of constantly trying to break through a brick wall with no result. He couldn't really pinpoint it. All he knew was that the question had been haunting him, hanging over him during every interaction they had, every stolen moment they shared.

It had been there between their stolen kisses in the quiet locker room after the others had left. In the hurried, heated moments in the showers, swallowed gasps and moans, the warm spray doing little to extinguish the fire always burning between them. In the back alleys where his shoulder blades scraped against brick, feeling the ache of wounds that lingered long after they healed, and in sketchy motel rooms like this one, where they paid in cash and pretended not to look over their shoulders.

The question slipped free, sharp and accusing despite his best attempt to soften the blow.

"Deac...what are we doing here?"

Deacon stiffened immediately. The change was subtle, but Rocker felt it—in the way Deacon's arm twitched against him, like he was doing his best to keep his reaction under wraps.

"Don't," Deacon said, his voice a quiet warning. "Don't ask me that, Rocker. Just leave it."

Rocker turned his head, studying Deacon's profile in the flickering yellow light of the bedside lamp. He looked calm, composed. But Rocker had known him long enough to see through the mask.

"No," Rocker said firmly, pushing himself up on one elbow. "We need to talk about this. It's been months, Deacon. You can't just—"

Deacon cut him off, sitting up abruptly. "I said drop it." he said, brown eyes looking intently at him, almost begging.

But Rocker didn't. Couldn't anymore. The words kept tumbling out, heavy and raw. "This...whatever this is—it's not enough anymore. I can't keep doing this, Deacon" his voice broke. "I'm tired of feeling like I'm some dirty little secret you'll never admit to."

Deacon swung his legs over the side of the bed, his back to Rocker. He was already reaching for his jeans, pulling them on with jerky, deliberate movements.

"It's not that simple," Deacon said sharply, his voice tight.

"It's never that simple," Rocker shot back, sitting up fully now, the sheets pooling around his waist. "But I know you feel the same way I do. I feel it when we're together. I know this isn’t just fucking—‘getting our rocks off’."

Deacon froze mid-motion, his hands hovering over the zipper of his jeans. His shoulders tensed, the weight of Rocker’s words pressing down on him.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Deacon said finally, his voice low, dangerous.

Rocker’s laugh came out hollow. “Don’t I? Then tell me I’m wrong” he goaded bitterly. “Look me in the eyes and tell me this is just sex to you. That's all it’s ever been. That I’m imagining all of it—the way you take care of me, like I'm something precious…”

Rocker suddenly felt the tears running down his face, but couldn't stop the words from spilling out, still pleading with Deacon’s back. “The way you hold me after, like you’re afraid to let go. The way you look at me, like you—”

“Stop,” Deacon snapped, finally turning to face him. His eyes burned with a mix of anger and something deeper, something Rocker couldn't quite name. He saw the flicker of guilt there too and watched as Deacon flinched at whatever his own face was doing.

“No, Deacon. You don’t get to shut me down this time. You don’t get to walk away from this conversation.”

Deacon’s jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. “I have a wife, Rocker. I have kids. A family. A life I've built, fought for—”

“And none of that is real anymore!” Rocker interrupted, his voice rising. “Not if you're here with me, in these shitty motel rooms, pretending they don't exist. Pretending this means nothing to you. You can't have it both ways, Deacon. Not anymore.”

Deacon’s face twisted, something fragile cracking across his expression. But then his defences slammed back into place, his usual calm settling in, and his voice came out cold.

“I don’t see a future with you.”

The words hit him like a gut punch, stealing the air from Rocker’s lungs. For a moment, he felt the world come crashing around him, and he couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

“Say that again,” Rocker whispered, barely recognizing his own voice.

Deacon didn't. He couldn’t. Instead, he grabbed his jacket and walked to the door, his steps heavy. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, his shoulders rigid.

For a moment, Rocker hoped—hoped he would turn around, that he might say something, anything. But then the door opened, and Deacon walked out, leaving Rocker alone in the silence.

The sound of the door clicking shut felt like a bullet to the chest, the finality of it shattering through the fog that had settled in him.

Rocker sank back onto the bed, the silence somehow feeling deafening. The room felt colder now, emptier. The words echoed in his mind, over and over, like a broken record.

I don't see a future with you.

And for the first time, he believed it.

[redeliminator]

Well, they did NOT survive their teenage codependent homoerotic friendship

I have the priviledge of being an adult and being able to look back on my teenage years happy that I made it out. It wasn't easy and I had my fair share of pretty dark experiences, so I've been thinking A LOT what would have happened to me if I had found myself in a position like Andre when I was 17. So I wrote it down - the story of Andre and Cal's relationship from (mostly) Andre's POV and the whole emotional turmoil of ending your life alongside your best friend. All with a couple of not-so-subtle personal throw-ins. It's a mess and a long one on top of that, I'm sorry ;__;

—

After years of living with all these thoughts you’re too scared to open up about, suddenly it turns out that your (only) lifelong friend is actually not that different. Not only doesn’t he flinch at your uncanny remarks; he actually thinks they’re spot-on and laughs at your jokes that would probably send you straight into detention.

So far, the more people learnt about you, the more they drifted away. Suddenly, it doesn’t happen. Quite the contrary, the messed up things seem to strengthen the bond instead. For the first time, someone welcomes you into their inner life just the way you are and doesn’t expect you to “mend your ways” before they let you in. You gradually uncover the parts of yourself you have never shown to anyone before. It feels like the weight of the world is lifted off your shoulders. Like it was destined to happen. It feels real.

It is not at all surprising that in the end, you brought out the worst in each other. After all, your final bond was built on the acceptance of the darkest parts of your personalities. You fed off each other to the point of lethal codependency. You were nothing without him and he was nothing without you.

It was insane. But you felt validated. Starving for someone who understands, you clung to each other and never let go.

So, when you’re standing in that library, guns slung over your shoulders and blood spilling beneath your feet, and that guy, who led you out of that lonely misery and gave your life a spark, tells you that you’re done - well, you’re done. You’d follow him anywhere because what other choice do you have? You killed people. You’re not getting away on your own. You’re not doing it without him. It’s either both of you or none of you. So you agree.

But deep inside, you know there’s so much left to say. The world is wide enough for the two of you, why wouldn’t you want to explore it? We had a plan, we were supposed to last. All of that is suddenly cut short. Just like the lives you’ve just taken. What an irony.

And suddenly you wish you had never left that car. Or that you had swerved it just before pulling into the parking lot. What the fuck are you doing?! That’s when it should have been said: I’m done. You’re done. We’re done.

You never figured out if it was platonic or romantic. You probably didn’t even know what platonic meant. But there was one thing you had no doubt about: that loving him was the easiest thing in the world.

… until it wasn’t. 

That love tripped you up just when everything you thought you wanted was only a few inches away. Suddenly, it felt like jumping into a lake only to realize that concrete bricks have been tied to your feet.

You might have been done with the revenge, but you weren’t done loving him. In fact, you barely even started. You never even fully acknowledged it. You repressed it, scared of and confused about the intricacies of your own identity and feelings.

But what are you supposed to do about it now? Where will all that love go, if you refuse to go down together? Do you even have a choice at all? You won’t make it on your own. The only choice you have is whose hand will fire the shot that will end it all. There is no “if”.

It’s pretty safe to say that you agreeing to a double suicide is a spur-of-the-moment decision. No one would think clearly when faced with this kind of choice under such circumstances. You have just taken more than a dozen innocent lives. If they catch you, it’s game over. It’s a pathetic failure.

You were supposed to escape in a blaze of glory: a getaway car, a police chase, a rain of bullets fired towards you as you take one last look in the rearview mirror knowing you’re never gonna see this town again. You’ve turned the place that destroyed you into smoldering ruins and now you kiss it goodbye. It doesn’t get better than this.

But it’s not what happens. Suddenly, as you look around the room and glance over the dead bodies, you realize the thrill is gone. The excitement has vanished into thin air. The only thing you’re hearing are police sirens and people whimpering in pain. The reality of what you’ve done and what awaits you comes crashing down on you. It’s not glorious. It’s not rewarding. It’s bleak and hopeless. It’s a dead end.

—

Andre had to tone down Cal's carelessness during the preparations. No, we’re not gonna break into Brad’s garage and risk being spotted. No, your open mic poetry evening was not a fun idea; it was inconsiderate and dangerous. No, even if we had an M-80, we wouldn’t use it for a ceremonial explosion at my family’s vacation home where everyone could see it. 

And suddenly, as they’re wandering through the school looking at the carnage they caused, the roles get reversed. It’s Cal who has to lead Andre into the grim reality. 

We’re not making it out. We can still leave on our terms though. It’s your call.

The question is, did Cal really believe they didn’t stand a chance or did he use the circumstances to get what he wanted: for both of them to die?

If Andre didn’t agree, would Cal have the guts to shoot him himself? I don’t think he would. There was only one way Cal wanted it to end. I think Cal may have had some sort of feelings for Andre, but, in a fashion similar to Andre, he didn’t know exactly what these feelings were as he never got around to disentangling them. Cal was mentally ill, heavily unstable and out of touch with reality, but I think deep inside he still had the ability to feel. He could barely connect with that part of him, but it was still there. And Andre kept it alive because he did something no one else would ever do for Cal. He provided Cal with the means to die the way he wanted. A spectacular way out. 

And Cal would be forever grateful for that, even if that “forever” would come to an end in just a matter of seconds. How do you even thank someone for a favor like this? Thanks for letting me die, even though you didn’t know I planned it? How do you find someone who you don’t even have to ask for it? Hey, what would you say if we killed a bunch of people to send some twisted message that only we understand and then we blew our brains out? 

The thing is, none of them had to ask. The idea was already there. Maybe except for the “blowing our brains out” part. In any case, this is a one in a million chance that you find someone like this.

[katasstrophy]

Bruh Nagi being buff as hell after Manshine's training 🥰🥰🥰

sammy you deadass bout to make me objectify this man on main SO BAD this has been running something of a small marathon in my head so 😵‍💫😵‍💫 pls accept my humble word vomit

cw. [n]sfw. mdni. pro player! nagi + aged-up characters. bit of body worship(?) you ride his abs. nipple play (m. receiving). subby nagi (but he's actually a switch >:) + some fluff bc he's so baby :(

note. a bit rambly oop soz it’s bc i went insane. i describe how he looks like to ME (re: hot as fuck) but i guess y'all can read it too hehe<3

1.4k words -> how could you ever hope to keep your hands to yourself when nagi's body looks like that.

i feel like unless you have prior knowledge of the fact that nagi is a pro athlete, from a cursory glance, your first thought upon seeing him wouldn’t be “hmm i bet that dude is built like a brick house.” it doesn’t help that nagi’s basically the unofficial king of athleisure — his closet’s chockfull of loose-fitting hoodies and sweats. he barely owns anything else besides those monochrome hooded tracksuits (and sportswear for practice, i guess he’d need some of that too lol) because he claims it’s the only outfit that gives him unlimited access to just lounge about basically anywhere he pleases. it’s what he genuinely finds to be the most comfortable style for him as well. but if you’re fortunate enough to get a peak underneath the layers of baggy clothes? dear god nagi’s built like a fever dream. amen you’ll eat so good then he’s a whole ass feast. 

i’m gonna brazenly speak my truth here so don’t come for me >:( but! from what you’d consider to be “a typical footballer’s physique”, purely from that perspective, nagi’s legs are… not that impressive. his stagnant motivation has much improved ever since he committed to making a career out of soccer, but that doesn’t mean his slacker tendencies haven’t followed suit. don’t get me wrong, he still puts his all into every game so his legs are still very much capable of making your mouth water, but you won’t catch him sprinting up and down the field at full speed if he can help it. packed with lean muscle, his thighs are thick, calves well-defined with a few bold veins thinly zigzagging down the taut skin like a lightning strike on the occasion you happen to catch him after a particularly gruelling conditioning session. but compared to some of his teammates whose legs seem to be carved from iron, he’s a bit.. overshadowed.

it’s a fairly similar story with his arms. (i promise i’m not just talking shit lol i could NEVER my poor meow meow it’s gonna get so hot in a second i swear just bear with me!!!) again, it’s most definitely a drool-worthy sight. the stretch of his arms is long and sinewy, rolling with a set of generous biceps that flutter under the gentle scrap of your fingerpads and nails when he (totally intentionally) flexes the swell of muscle there. in his profession, he mostly uses his arms for balance and to create distance between himself and his opponents. buried in his private nook back home, he has a tendency to hold his phone above his head while playing mobile games — that blissfully only rarely come crashing down on his face — but his unrivalled favourite will, of course, always be enveloping you in his arms <3 

nagi’s not the most expressive person, but his subtle social cues become much easier to pick up on whenever he’s sleepy, which let’s be honest is almost always. he’s in dire need of a snuggle in those moments and not only loves, but craves being close to you physically, his face a canvas of huffy evidence of what a Big Deal this is to him if you learn to read the hidden hints (it’s a pursed, pouty frown nine times out of ten he ain’t slick lmfao). he kind of regards your presence as his “recharging station” what a cringe fail soggy loser man i adore him with my whole heart 🥹 his lanky limbs will snake around you with the security of a vine until you’re all cosy and wrapped up in each other, his hold bearing enough strength to not budge against any playful escape tactics you might attempt — at least not until he decides he’s had his fair share of quality snuggle time with you. 

nagi’s a practical man, however — the world doesn’t call him a lazy genius for nothing. for these, albeit lovely, purposes, he determined there’s absolutely no need to overexert himself by lifting weights to buff up his arms. he can get by just fine! there are definitely more jacked arms out there i’m sorry :(

but here’s the kicker. nagi’s tall. you could even say he’s huge — he’d tower over most people if he actually straightened his posture for once. so his muscle mass kind of stretches out a bit… unevenly throughout his body. he does have muscle mass though, plenty of it, actually, and he needs only to do one tiny little thing to remind you of it: lift his shirt up. 

it’s a subconscious, everyday thing for nagi to toy with the hem of his cotton tees. his fingers often grow restless if they’re just lying about, so playing with the material of his clothes is not only stupidly ready at hand but also helps to soothe the itch brimming along his fingers to do something with them. in the process, you’re rewarded with glimpses of his stomach often when he involuntarily ends up exposing the skin clinging to those hard planes. but what’s objectively worse for your sanity is when nagi comes trudging into the kitchen to ease his thirst. he never bothers with a glass from the cupboard, just swoops down to drink from the open tap, his adam’s apple bopping rhythmically as he swallows. there’s water coating his lips when he rises, a few droplets still running down his chin that he tugs on the ends of his t-shirt to lazily wipe away. it’s an innocent endeavour to him, but a sinful display for you, as it essentially shows off his entire, deliciously shaped midriff. nagi might slack off in other areas, but his core strength is insane. his torso is like a gift from the heavens, chiselled after the image of their gods and heroes. don’t even get me started on his abs.

because i cannot stress enough how perfect nagi’s abs are for grinding your sweet, drooling little cunny on :( the ridges of muscle packed together at his abdomen are firm, but twitch almost uncontrollably when you slowly drag your cunt up and down the sculpted slabs of his stomach that bump against your poor, swollen clit in a way that makes you delirious. your thighs bracket his waist as you move, his waist that is so trim and almost tiny compared to the broad stretch of his shoulders. you can feel the coarse, light hair of his happy trail graze against your bare ass, leading to his heavy, stirring cock still confined in his sweats for now as you continue to leisurely rut your pussy down his abs, leaving a slick mess behind. the hard cut of his v-line is so prominent a thin contour of shadow clings to the underside of it.

nagi wishes desperately that he could help you, that he could sink his fingers into the plush of your skin and push you down along his abdomen to accelerate your high, dictate a more intense pace for you by his hands and make you take it, but he’s too busy being a moaning, blubbering mess underneath you to take initiative. his large palm lies dormant at your waist, the other tangled in his snowy, sweaty bangs so he doesn’t miss even a blink of the intoxicating vision you present above him. he’s drunk on every salacious sound that comes tumbling from your lips, every wanton contortion of your gorgeous face as the lewd squelching of your pussy fills his ears. his defined chest is flushed red from arousal, shuddering with shaky exhales as he all but devours the sight of you — he thinks you using him for your own pleasure is so fucking hot. 

if you want to turn him into an utter wreck, whining like a bitch in heat, please please play with his nipples :( paw at his pecs all needy first, ‘n don’t be afraid to grip the flesh with the blunt of your nails. he’ll mewl about it, but you only need to shush and praise him, tell him how good he looks like this for you and he’ll behave. pinch at the pretty pink of his pebbled nipples, gently circle his areola with your tongue, sucking on the bud and nagi will lose his mind, might even cum untouched :( but that’s okay because he’s so turned on his refractory period is barely an issue, he’ll sink into your tight, sloppy walls in one go and fuck you absolutely senseless on his cock. it’s all you can do to scramble for purchase with your trembling fingers, marking up the milky expanse of his broad back and mouthing at his collarbones to stifle your near pornographic keens and cries as he mercilessly splits you open.

in conclusion nagi seishiro is built like a wet dream and i want him carnally </3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Sugar Tonight 5

Character: Brock Rumlow

Summary: A regular customer becomes more than just a familiar face.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The townhouse is big compared to your apartment, though most places are. Brock keeps his hand tight on yours as he brings you up the front steps. He punches a code into the lock, the numbers blocked out by his large figure. You teeter on your feet as he pushes down the lever and shoves the door inward.  

He points you in ahead of him and adjusts the straps of the duffel bag hooked over his shoulder. Those are your things, parsed down to a single bag. He follows you in as your eyes skimp the walls. Despite your muddled fear, you can’t help but stand in awe of the antique panel and brick. 

“You seem like the old-style type,” he plops the bag down on the wooden bench against the wall, “shoes.” 

You look down and nod. You kneel to unlace your work sneakers and put them on the rack. He sits beside the duffel as he works at loosening his boots. 

You tear your attention from the tear drop bulbs of the chandelier light above and look at him. Like really look at him. He’s in all black like always. His hair is a similarly dark hue and a shadow of stubble never leaves his square jaw. His shoulders are broad and straight and even sitting, he looks huge. He looks up and narrows his eyes as he catches your gaze. 

“Sir, er, Brock,” you twist your palms together. 

“Yes, baby,” he sits up, his shoulders squaring. The pet name tweaks in your stomach. 

“Erm...” you peer around. “I... I don’t know.” 

“You don’t like it?” He stands and you take a step back. “We can update it.” 

“Um, no, it’s... pretty but... what... what am I doing here?” 

He snorts. It’s as close to laughter as he’s come. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” He nears and reaches for you. You wince as he cradles the back of your head and draws you close. “It’s our home, we make the rules.” 

He bends and kisses your forehead. You gulp as the heavy scent of his cologne strangles you. His fingers curl into your scalp and he hums. He hesitates for just a moment before he pulls back. 

You suck your lip in under your teeth and turn away. You’re buzzing from his proximity. The way he crowds you is unnerving. Everything about him is. 

You sense him watching you as you tiptoe around the bottom of the staircase and stop to stare at the framed painting of a woman in 19th century garb. She seems familiar as she sits on a stool in flowing ivory and pets a lamb, her stomach swollen with child. 

“Like I said, you can change it,” he grits as he comes closer. “Have a look around. Explore. It’s all yours.” 

You flinch and bat your eyes at the picture. This is real. You peek over at the duffle bag as the horror rolls up your spine. You don’t think you’re ever going back to your old life. This man won’t let you. 

You continue down the hallway next to the stairs if only to get space from him and your looming fear. You turn to look into the den. A long sofa and cushy armchairs, bookcases on either side of the vintage fire stove and a rustic rug across the aged wooden floor. You can’t deny that it’s cozy. 

He lurks like a shadow but allows you enough space to make your own way through the place. The kitchen is wrought in walnut and iron. A gas stove, a black fridge, and a dishwasher to boot. The walk-in pantry is stocked to the ceiling. You back out as he leans in the crook of the counter. 

“There’s more upstairs, baby.” 

You take his subtle directive and retrace your path. The dining room on the other side of the stairs gets only a quick glance before you climb to the next floor. Another hallway with several doors. A bathroom with a clawfoot tub and separate shower booth, a linen closet, and office, and the main bedroom. You stop in the last and stare at the four-postered bed. 

You retreat and pass Brock as he stands against the wall, halfway up the stairs. There’s another door but it doesn’t open. You don’t try to get past the lock. You go back to look down at him. 

“It’s nice, er... Brock.” 

“All for you,” he turns and climbs up patiently. 

“I--” your wring your hands, “really?” You look one way then the other, “thanks, but...” 

“You shouldn't chew your lip. It’s already chapped.” He grabs your hands and pulls them apart, “stop picking at your nails.” 

“Sorry, I--” 

“Don’t be. I’ll take care of ya until you take care of yourself,” he brings your hands up between his, grazing his calloused skin over yours. He turns your palms to his and pushes his fingers between yours. His cheek dimples and he guides your hands to his chest. “You’ll be safe here.” 

You nod and stay silent. His warmth seep through his shirt into your hands. It adds to the sheen of sweat speckling over your body. That fiery heat of fear, the nip of the inevitable. You still can’t wrap your head around it all but you know deep down, you’re not going back to your boxy apartment. 

[forgwater]

Bleeding Hearts

~Bleeding Hearts Masterlist~

Vil x (gn)Reader

Warnings: This story contains yandere themes and behaviors.

a/n: I now realize how ironic it is that the randomizer choose Vil for the second fic of the series oof-

The last thing you expected today was to be invited to Pomefiore to provide Vil your help for his artistic pursuits. He’s promised you a reward worthy of your efforts, so how could you refuse such an offer?

Once you pass through the magic mirror, you head towards the ancient apple trees. Majestic green crowns cover you from the Suns prying rays. Their red, richly colored fruits beckon you pick them.

But you must resist.

‘Take a bite’ they say ‘you know you want to’ comes their bewitching remark. It’s enough to leave your cheeks feeling as hot as they are red.

Just-

“There you are.” Vils voice snaps you out of your trance and embarrassment covers you whole. You must’ve taken a while since he came here to find you himself.

“I’m sorry, I-“ but you are interrupted.

“No need for excuses.” He speaks firmly. “I wasn’t fully expecting you to find the pathway I told you about. It’s a bit too hidden for that.”

“Oh…” well, now you feel silly.

“Then, dear prefect, how about you accompany me to our designated meeting place? You are late after all.” The blond sends you a subtle smirk, accompanied only by a quiet chuckle.

“Right. Let’s.” that’s all Vil needed to start walking towards the secret little nook he chose as your meeting spot.

A pathway to the right, a sharp left. Pass this tree and then that tree. Don’t trip on that rock! Really, potato, you need to be more careful.

“Here, hold my hand, that way I can make sure you don’t fall.” You hesitate.

“….Is this really necessary? I’m fine.” Vil didn’t seem to like that very much, if his raised eyebrow is anything to go by.

“I offered.” He takes hold of your hand in a secure yet comfortable hold. “Don’t tell me you’re getting shy.” The blond teases. “And only from this little too…”

“Hey!” you fight back. Your dignity’s on the line here!

“A fighting cry from someone flustered by hand holding.” He’s enjoying this a little too much.

Fortunately for him, you’re too preoccupied with his little flirty jabs to tell just how loud and fast his own heart is beating. You haven’t noticed any of that! Have you?!

“This is so unfair.” Oh, you haven’t. Good.

“Oh? Is it? I don’t think it is.~” he plays.

Before you can speak your indignations further, you are met with brick walls. Then a magnificent vine covered entrance. Vil leads you inward and you can tell this used to be a room of some kind, that knowledge now lost to time.

“This is it.” the blond announces. “I picked this place because it will work well for the scene.”

“The scene?” you question.

“We’ll be reciting lines from a script and acting some scenes together.” Vil pauses and then continues quickly “I thought acting together might help my performance a bit… you don’t have to be perfect; you just need to be here. So, don’t think too much of it.” he tries to reassure you. You don’t seem very reassured so he continues his attempts:

“Try to relax. I won’t judge your acting… too harshly.” At the end of his sentence he faces you fully, his hands now on your arms, he slightly smooths over your clothing. “Very well, let us go sit down.”

The grey stone bench fits both of you as you take your places. After you take a deep breath, you are met with a few papers.

“Your lines are highlighted. I want you to read them out loud to me.”

“Shouldn’t I read them silently first?”

“No. I want to hear your intonation as you read the text for the first time.” He insists.

You’ve come this far; you’ve got no choice but to comply. So you begin:

“-You’ve worked so hard… and done so much-…. for us…-” you shift uncomfortably.

“Don’t stop.” Vil commands, his scrutinizing gaze bores deeply into your very being.

“Vil- Is this… are the characters supposed to be in love?”

No answer. The blonds jaw visibly flexes at your inquiry… or maybe at your refusal to continue reading. Quite disobedient, aren’t you?

With his arms crossed, he tells you again:

“Keep reading.” It does not feel like a request.

“No.” you refuse him once again.

“What? Are you afraid of a little text about one’s characters love for another?” he mocks “I thought you agreed to this little rehearsal? Have you changed your mind? Are you backing out?” he barrages you with questions he does not expect an answer to.

“…No. I haven’t.” you bite your tongue.

“Then, read this line.” He tells you simply, pointing further down on the page. You swallow thickly. Vil taps the line impatiently and you can’t look him in the eyes as you try your best to read.

“-…Your qualities, your beauty… seen and unseen-… have made me. Fall in love with… you…-“ your cheeks feel warm and you want the ground to swallow you whole. The air hangs heavy and you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“There. It wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Vil takes this moment to redirect your gaze to his own with nothing but his index finger and thumb on your chin. “I can excuse the insincerity. For now.”

What is he talking about?!

You glare, questions obvious on your expression. But, before you can talk, he fixates you with his stare, reducing you to silence.

“You will have to recite it again and again until you can confess sincerely.”

“Confess?!” you splutter.

“Yes. Is that too much to ask of the one I adore?” he accuses more than asks. “I could confess to you myself, but that would break the curse.”

…Curse…?....

“Oh, you didn’t think I’d take chances with this kind of thing, now did you?” Vil closes the distance between the two of you as he whispers in your ear: “Letting you leave me would be my most grave mistake.

He breathes deeply, truly pleased with his accomplishment.

“You are mine.”