#cave smut & voyeurism

[synapticjive]

Qimir breathes in her scent, nipping at the nape of her neck as he ruts into her.

Osha tightens her thighs around his waist as she balances against the edge of the makeshift desk. The stone is scratching her skin raw, but she couldn’t care less. Her chipped nails dig crescents his shoulders, her eyes glazing over as a wave of heat floods her core. His length threatens to split her in two. “More,” she hears herself gasping, her voice breaking with each rough slam of his hips.

Qimir bites down on her shoulder and grunts as he quickens his pace, angling her upwards so that he can sink deeper. “Like that,” he pants in her ear, “right, Osha?”

He tightens his grip on her thighs, pulling her towards him. Osha whines; he doesn’t give her time to adjust.

And she won’t tell him to stop. She’s too close.

She pleads with him silently, just above a whisper, until she feels footsteps on the cool ground of the cave. She cradles his head and sinks her hand into his damp hair, choosing to focus on her Master and not the fact that they’re being watched.

After a moment, she rests a hand on his chest. “Stop,” she breathes. “What..?” Qimir asks. “Please,” she says more firmly this time, clumsily unwrapping her legs from his waist. He pulls away from her slightly, still inside her.

“Osha..?”

She’s not looking at him. He turns around.

[ariestrxsh]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, innocence corruption, purity kink, sexualization of religious imagery, teasing, masturbation, voyeurism, mentions of sex toys, mostly just really suggestive, sub!virgin!matt, experienced!pervy!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 author's note: don't read if you're religious. it's going to offend you a lot if you do, and i really don't want to offend anyone. this fic is a bit of a slow burn with a lot of lead up and sexual tension before they actually do anything. :) i anticipate this storyline to have several parts.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: a good little christian boy named matt moves in next door, and once you find out he's a virgin, you test his morals, determined to tease him until he caves.

the song was requested by @greer2301 💖 (i hope i don't disappoint you with the storyline, and i'm sorry it took me so long to get to this one!)

me & u part one

It was a Saturday afternoon in your suburban neighborhood, the summer sun beating down on your face directly overhead. You stood in your front yard in a solid white t-shirt and jean shorts with a hand to your forehead, shading your eyes from the brightness, and your other hand on your hip as you watched a giant uhaul pull into the house next door that had been up for sale for as long as you'd lived there. An old, orange truck followed right behind it.

Were you finally getting new neighbors?

You watched as a handsome brunette with tattoos who looked to be about your age got out of the rust-colored vehicle. He was in a white tank top and faded blue jeans, and he was really cute. An older man, who you presumed was probably his dad, emerged from the driver's side of the uhaul.

The younger boy's blue eyes caught yours as he opened up the back of the truck to get out some boxes, and he shot you a shy smile and a small wave. You had to have him.

Several hours later, as the late afternoon sun was beginning to set in the sky, and after the boy and his father had a chance to unpack some of their belongings, you headed to your kitchen to bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies, so you'd have a reason to go over and talk to him. Maybe find out his name, maybe find out if he was single or not.

You got out milk, eggs, flour, and chocolate chips, and after mixing them all together, you portioned out perfect little dough blobs and stuck the pan into your oven, nearly burning yourself, and set a timer.

Once they were done baking, you beelined it for your new neighbor's house with a plate of fresh, homemade chocolate chips cookies and a glass of milk.

When you stepped onto the lawn, the blue-eyed boy was walking down the steps of his new porch, and he glanced up at you. "Hey. I'm your new neighbor. I saw you guys unpacking your stuff. I figured you could stand to take a break from unloading boxes and have some cookies," you said, offering him the plate.

"Hey, thanks," he said smiling, accepting the plate and the glass from you. He thought you were really pretty, and talking to you really brought out his shy side.

"What's your name?" You asked, studying all his attractive features up close in the golden hour lighting, his perfectly-shaped nose, his pretty teeth, and his luscious, pink lips. You loved the way the sun was hitting his gorgeous blue eyes.

"Matt," he responded timidly. You introduced yourself to himself as well. "You gonna invite me in?" You peeked over his shoulder and in through his doorway, walking past him and letting yourself in. "Uh, sure. There's not much in there yet," Matt replied, following you into his brand new house.

"Uh, sorry about the mess," Matt nervously apologized, gesturing towards the general disarray. "I get it. I've moved before," you responded understandingly. The walls were empty, and so was the rest of the room besides a kitchen table, some kitchen chairs, and several half-unpacked boxes, overflowing with dishes and kitchen appliances.

You admired the dark brown, hardwood flooring, the matching cabinets, and the gorgeous granite countertops. He placed the plate of cookies on the island in the center of the room and took a bite out of one. "Mmm. Still warm," he grinned at you, washing the sugary treat down with the milk you gave him.

"How old are you?" You asked him, your eyes drawn to his strong, veiny hands and his rings on his long, slender fingers. "Twenty-one," he told you. "Same," you responded while you watched him devour another one of your cookies. "These are really good," he complimented your baking, blushing and wiping a few crumbs from his mouth.

"Was that guy who was unloading stuff with you, your dad?" You asked him, and he nodded. "Yeah, he left to go get us some food for tonight," he mumbled in between bites.

"Naughty boy. Spoiling your dinner," you lowered your voice and smirked at him. You noticed his eyes subtly widen, and he stopped chewing for a second.

"You should show me your room," you seductively said, biting your lip. "Uh, sure. Again, there's not much in it," Matt shrugged, completely oblivious to your overt flirting.

You started up his stairs, admiring the sturdy banister, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you over it, and once you got to the top of the stairs, you turned around, noticing Matt behind you, his eyes glued to your ass.

You gave him a look that silently asked, like what you see? He pulled his gaze from your bottom to your eyes with a guilty look on his face like a puppy dog that had gone to the bathroom somewhere he shouldn't have.

"Which one's your room?" You asked him. "Third door on the left," he said, clearing his throat and trying to pretend he wasn't just checking you out. You led the way, even though you knew the layout even less than he did.

You turned the knob and pushed open his door. His bed was already set up with flannel sheets and throw pillows, and on the opposite wall, a desk with a laptop and a few books on it. As you peered out the window, you realized you had a direct view of his room from your room.

He had a connected bathroom, and as you wandered into there, you admired the sage green back splash of the shower through the transparent shower door. You imagined how steamy the two of you could make the glass.

Other than that, more scattered boxes decorated the area, some opened, some not.

"What are you gonna do with the place?" You wondered, pacing around his room. "I want to paint it," he said, scanning the room with his eyes. "What color?" You inquired, wandering back over towards the entrance to his room and subtly shutting and locking his door while he was distracted by deliberating your question.

"Still not sure. Wanted to go for something cooler, darker. Maybe a forest green or a stone blue. Something earthy," he mumbled, wondering if he had taken too long to answer your question. You could tell he was nervous and shy, and you found it extremely endearing.

"That sounds awesome. I'm gonna help you paint it," you stated, taking a step closer to him. "Sure, that'd be nice of you," he said agreeably. "What are you doing tomorrow? You should come see the badass treehouse I have in my backyard. It's really private up there. We can do anything you want," you chewed on your lip, looking him up and down.

"We can smoke some weed and just talk. Or smoke some weed and not talk," you said, standing on your tippy toes and whispering into his ear while you took your pointer finger and seductively caressed his chest. You noticed a small tent forming in his pants.

He liked how dominant and direct your demeanor was, but he was worried you may have misread his character. He had never smoked weed and had never had sex. Still, the way you spoke to him and touched him turned him on.

He grabbed a pillow off his bed and held it in front of his erection as if it were less obvious. "You'd better take care of that," you teased him, glancing down at his bulge. "Uh, I don't do that. My dad and I are going to church tomorrow morning," he swallowed anxiously, blushing at your observation.

"You don't what? You don't smoke, or you don't jerk off?" You asked, smirking at him. "Uh, I don't smoke," he nervously smiled. "Isn't it a sin to jerk off? You really are a naughty boy, aren't you?" You maliciously grinned at him. His breath caught in his throat, and he started to look at you in desperation, but he caught himself, immediately shifting his gaze around uncomfortably.

"You could come if you want," he offered, his eyes still darting around the room as if he were afraid to look at you. "I can cum if I want?" You teased him. "To church. You could come with us to church," he clarified, looking down and reaching behind his head with his tattooed arm to nervously rub the back of his neck. You loved making him nervous.

"Why? So you can watch me burst into flames?" You jumped at him, putting your fingers up behind your head, making devil horns while you playfully smiled at him, but he still jumped back, startled by your joke, and he nervously giggled at it once he realized you were probably kidding. A good little Christian boy.

"You know, you're cute enough that I'd consider going to church with you. But it's really hard to beat getting high in my treehouse and touching myself, so I think I'm gonna pass," you told him.

His jaw dropped and a needy expression overcame his face while he imagined you sitting on the floor of a treehouse, one hand holding a joint between your lips, and the other down the front of your unbuttoned denim shorts.

"Maybe I'll still be up there when church lets out," you tempted him. He couldn't believe how comfortable you were saying all that out loud. "You think I'm cute?" He asked, raising his eyebrows, still processing everything you'd just casually admitted in the last few seconds.

"Yeah, and you think I'm cute," you confidently stated, staring at the throw pillow in front of his pants. His cheeks turned a deep shape of red, and he wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead.

Suddenly, you heard the low rumbling of an old truck and a car door shut. "Uh, I think my dad's home. I don't think we should be up here alone with my door shut and locked when he walks in," Matt said, wide-eyed.

He reached into his jeans to tuck his erection into his waistband. You watched in awe, hoping to get a peak, but he was too quick about it. He headed out of his room, and you trailed behind.

When his dad materialized through the front door, you and Matt were descending the stairs into the kitchen again. "Oh. Hi. You already made a friend, Matt?" His dad smiled at you, put the Cane's bag on the counter, and stuck out his hand for you to shake. His hands were rough and calloused. You daintily shook his hand, shot him an innocent smile, and introduced yourself.

"Yeah, she's our neighbor. She brought us over some cookies," Matt motioned towards the nearly empty plate. "I kinda ate most of them," he giggled. "How kind of you," the older man commented. "I'd offer you some food, but I only planned on feeding the two of us," he motioned towards his son.

"Oh, please. Don't worry. You guys moved in like six hours ago. I don't expect you to feed me," you responded. "I just wanted to pop in and introduce myself. Bring you something sweet," you innocently tilted your head at Matt's father.

"I'll give Matt my number in case you guys need any help unpacking or painting or anything," you grinned over at Matt. "Y-Yeah, sure," Matt stumbled over his words, fidgeting with his phone in his pocket, and handing it to you nervously.

You saved your contact in his phone with a peach emoji, a wet water emoji, and a heart beside your name, and when you handed it back to him, his eyes subtly widened, and he cleared his throat. "Thanks," he muttered. "I'll catch you around," you smiled and subtly winked at Matt, and then you saw yourself out to let the men enjoy their food and get a good night's rest after a long day of heavy lifting.

When you stepped out into the night, you got a closer look at their truck. It was a rust-colored Dodge Dakota from the 70's with a cross hanging in the rearview mirror, and there was a bible on the dashboard. You wondered just how strong Matt's morals were, and what you'd have to do to get them to bend - or even break - for you.

After Matt and his dad sat down at their table and ate together, Matt excused himself to go take a shower. It was the first time he'd had a bathroom connected to his room, and he appreciated the convenience. It took him a few minutes to figure out how the temperature and pressure dials worked, and once he did, he stood underneath the hot water, letting it hit his sore back and soothe the aching muscles in his neck.

He washed his hair, and ran his soapy hands all over the rest of his body. He tried to focus on cleaning himself, but he couldn't help that he was having dirty thoughts. He tried to push his impure fantasies about you to the back of his mind, but the more he tried to run away from them, the more they persisted.

He was pretty sure by now that you were flirting with him. He'd felt the sexual tension between the two of you while you guys stood in his locked bedroom together. He wished his dad hadn't come home when he did, because he wanted to know just how bold you were and how far you would have taken it.

He started getting hard again, and no matter how hard he fought the urge, his hand had a mind of its own. It was the one sin Matt was weakest to - lust. His fingers slithered down below his waist, and he started massaging his cock while his mind was flooded with you.

He imagined what it would have been like to see under your clothes, how your lips would have felt against his neck, and how your fingers would have felt wrapped around his dick like he had his now.

He pumped his hand back and forth over his length, caressing every vein and coaxing a few whimpers from his pretty mouth. Matt was saving himself for marriage, but he could still fantasize about you, right?

He pictured you on top of him with your breasts bouncing in his face. He imagined you straddling him, how wet and tight you'd feel enveloping his rod, and how pornographic your moans would sound. He fisted his cock urgently, his eyes rolling back and his jaw hanging open. The neediest sounds poured from Matt's lips as he replayed the way you sounded when you called him a naughty boy.

It didn't take much before ropes of cum were painting the shower floor, and Matt watched breathlessly as his hot, thick fluid mixed with the water and circled the drain. He immediately felt ashamed after, knowing God didn't make your body as beautiful as it was for Matt to fulfill his carnal desires with.

He figured you'd be disgusted with him if you ever knew. Little did he know, if you had any idea what he was doing behind his steamy shower door, you would have found it flattering.

He finished rinsing himself of his sin, and he grabbed a towel, one of the few things he had unpacked in his bathroom, wrapping it around his waist and stepping out of the shower.

It was right at this time that you were laying in your bed in the dark, trying to fall asleep when you rolled over and noticed Matt's bedroom light come on across the way. You caught a glimpse of Matt through your window in his room in just a towel, having just finished up in the shower.

You couldn't pull your eyes away from him. He looked so good with his hair all wet, and you admired his shirtless figure and the 'v' shaped lines that pointed down to his cock that you were dying to see.

You held your breath as he turned and dropped his towel. You couldn't see much, but you caught a glimpse of his bare ass for a few seconds before he slipped his pajama pants on, and you couldn't deny how cute it was.

Blissfully unaware that you could see him, he knelt down at his bedside and started to pray. You wondered if this was an every night occurrence, and for the most part it was, but Matt would spend an extra long time praying whenever he'd committed a lustful sin, which was more often than not. You peered at him from the comfort of your bedroom, wondering how good he'd look on his knees for you.

After about ten minutes of praying, Matt climbed to his feet, shut off his bedroom light, and crawled between his sheets to drift off to dreamland.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You were pulled from your deep sleep the next morning at about 8 a.m. by the sound of your phone vibrating next to you. At first, you ignored it, thinking you were getting a text, but when the buzzing against your night stand continued, you realized you had an incoming call.

You didn't recognize the number, but you still answered. "Hello?" You sleepily mumbled into the phone. "Uh, hi," you immediately recognized the shy voice that responded to you. "Last chance for you to come to church with me. I'm leaving in half an hour," Matt told you.

"You wake up at 8 a.m. every Sunday to go to church?" You asked in a groggy tone. "Actually, I've been up for about an hour," he told you. "Do you have any coffee at your place?" You asked him, rubbing your eyes. "I don't even have a coffee maker at my place," he laughed. "I mean, I do somewhere, but it's still packed up."

"I'll come with you to church if we can stop for coffee on the way," you smiled into the phone. "Uh, yeah. We can do that," Matt said, attempting to conceal his excitement about you agreeing to go to church with him.

"Do I have to wear a dress?" You wondered. "You don't have to, but I'd like to see you in one," Matt replied, biting his lip. "I'll be over in like fifteen minutes. In my sunday best," you answered before you hung up.

You put on an off-white, vintage smock dress that synched at your waist and had long, puffy sleeves. You brushed your teeth, combed through your hair, and ran downstairs.

You were greeted by a confused look from your mother. "Where are you going so early looking so nice?" She asked, peering up from the book she was reading. "To church," you casually said, resting your hand on the doorknob. "Church?" Your mom said confused. "Yeah, I made a new friend. I'll be home later!" You called out before shutting the door behind you.

You made your way over to the boy next door's house, and you knocked while you waited patiently on his porch. A few seconds later, Matt opened the door and his eyes danced across your outfit. "Wow," Matt whispered, taking in the sight of you in a dress. He thought you looked like a fairy.

You looked him up and down as well, admiring his black slacks and black button-down long sleeve. You admired his emerald green tie, wondering how it would feel to grab him by it.

He had a notebook in his hand, and you glanced at his long, slender fingers again that were wrapped around the cover of the book, dreaming about how they'd feel curled inside of you. "What's the notebook for?" You asked. "Oh, nothing. It's just my journal."

"Your diary?" You raised your eyebrows at him. "You write about me in it last night?" You bit your lip at him. "No," he looked away and blushed. "Well, what do I have to do to get you to write about me in there, hmm?" You cooed, reaching for Matt's tie and fiddling with it while you flirted with him.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked, ignoring your question and looking a bit annoyed at you. "Yeah, are we just waiting for your dad?" You asked, gaze still fixed on his black-painted nails, and your mind still fixed in the gutter.

"My dad's not feeling so good. I think the elevation change kind of got to him, so he's staying home today," Matt responded, nervous to be alone with you, but you stared at him hungrily. "Just me and you?" You lustfully asked. You couldn't wait to be alone with him. He sheepishly nodded. "Well, I'm ready if you're ready," you chewed on your lip.

The two of you left to get coffee. You got a frozen caramel coffee drink, and Matt just got a black coffee.

Since Matt was new to the area, he had you navigate the two of you to the first place of worship that came up when he searched for Christian churches, and the two of you showed up just in time for the 9 o'clock service to start.

Matt backed his truck in to a spot on the side of the building, and the two of you slipped into the church, relieved that no one greeted you or asked if it was your first time there. You guys wanted to avoid the spotlight and just take your seats somewhere near the back.

An energetic man walked out onto the stage and immediately drew in the attention of the crowd. It didn't take long before you realized it was one of those weird, eccentric churches where the pastor claimed to be not like the other pastors, but he really just seemed like he was trying to use God as a way to get into people's wallets.

The sermon given revolved around the first book of the Bible, the Garden of Eden, original sin, and the way Adam and Eve gave into temptation. The whole time, you just listened quietly, your eyes shifting back and forth between the man giving the sermon and Matt, who seemed to be in a trance.

The service lasted about an hour and a half, and after the closing prayer, you and Matt shuffled out of the church along with the rest of the crowd, and you made your way back to the truck. On the way back home, you sat next to Matt in the truck that he and his dad shared, facing the shy brunette boy while you mulled over the service given today.

"Do you think Adam and Eve fucked in the garden?" You asked him, breaking the silence and looking at him seductively. Matt pulled his eyes off the road and glanced over at you for a second. "What!?" He asked in an appalled voice.

"Like the apple and the snake. You think those are just code words for something else?" You wondered, chewing on your lip. "I don't think you should be talking about stories in the Bible like that," he widened his eyes at you as if you were about to be struck by lightning.

"I mean, that's what they're alluding to, though, right?" You suggested. "I-I don't know. I never thought that far into it," Matt responded, dumbfounded. "You think Adam and Eve liked getting punished by God?" You smirked at Matt.

His cheeks grew red, he swallowed hard, and he started wiping his sweaty palms off on his button-down. He looked so cute when he was all flustered. "You think Adam was a naughty boy and liked getting caught eating Eve's fruit?" You said, slowly parting your legs and flashing Matt a sneak peak of what was under the skirt of your dress.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the little damp spot on the front of your white panties. "You're all wet.." Matt whispered, wide-eyed, unable to pull his eyes from between your thighs. "I know. I can't help it when you're around," you muttered, parting your legs a little further and gently petting yourself over your underwear.

"Please don't make me sin," Matt peered up at you with his needy, blue eyes. "I can't make you do anything," you teased him, brushing your finger over the soaked spot on the cotton fabric. "If you sin, it's because you want to."

"You're making this so hard for me," he whined, his eyes dancing between the road and the juicy treasure between your thighs. "You're right, I'll stop. I don't want us to crash," you smirked at him, pulling your hand away from your special place and slamming your legs shut.

The desperation on his face turned to disappointment. He didn't want you to stop, but he was riddled with guilt and shame about the way he was thinking about you.

"Can we stop at a store on the way home? I need to pick something up," you asked him. "Sure. Just tell me where to go," Matt responded quietly, still trying to clean his mind of the image of you spreading open your legs and gently rubbing the wet spot on your panties.

You led Matt to a parking lot with a sex shop in the plaza, and it was then that he realized you were up to no good. "Why are we stopping here?" Matt inquired, his wide eyes shifting back and forth between you and the shop you told him to park in front of.

"Don't worry about it. I just need to go in for a minute. It won't take long," you said, unfastening your seatbelt. "Well, you shouldn't go in alone," Matt killed the engine and started eagerly unbuckling his seat belt as well. "Yeah? You gonna protect me from all the dildos?" You chuckled, knowing he couldn't protect you from anything if he tried.

Secretly, he just had never been inside an adult entertainment shop, and considering sex was almost all he thought about besides God, he was curious. But he'd never admit it out loud.

The two of you walked in through the front door, clearly both in church clothes, and the girl at the front counter greeted you by name. "Who's this handsome devil?" The cashier asked, motioning towards Matt, and he blushed.

"This is my new neighbor. His name is Matt. We just got back from church," you told her. "Hot. It's always the religious ones that are a little freaky," the girl said, eyeing Matt and biting her lip. "I-I'm not," Matt quickly said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, he's a virgin," you whispered loudly. "A-am not!" Matt defensively said, turning bright red. "We're not here for him. I was actually looking into getting a new vibrator. I like the ones I have already, but I just want something with a little extra kick, you know?" You told her.

"I have the perfect thing for you," she winked at you, and she started to lead you towards the back. As the three of you walked past the magazines and DVDs, Matt's eye caught the cover of a few, and he started growing hard in his black slacks. He prayed neither of you would notice, trying to adjust himself as subtly as possible.

"This is the womanizer. We just got a shipment of them in this morning," the woman held up a toy. "And this part right here uses airflow and pressure while it vibrates to simulate oral sex," she informed you, turning on the toy and holding it out for you to feel.

"Wow," you said, your eyes twinkling as you felt the sensation against the tip of you finger while you imagined how it would feel elsewhere. "You sold me. Which color should I get, Matt?" You asked, looking over at your cute neighbor who was still trying to fix the erection forming in his pants.

Your eyes flicked down at the way the fabric strained around it, you smiled, and then you looked back up at Matt's embarrassed expression. "Um. Pink, I guess," Matt quietly responded. "Yeah? Like the color of your lips?" You smirked at him, knowing your comment was going to fluster him.

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Whew. Is it kinda warm in here?" Matt asked, loosening his tie and turning an ever deeper shade of red. "I want a pink one," you said, turning back to the sex shop worker. She smirked at Matt and the tent growing in his pants before she wandered off to the back to go grab you a packaged one.

"You come here so often, they know you by name?" Matt quietly asked you. "What can I say? I like sex. Sex with myself, sex with another person, sex with more than one other person," you chuckled. "You've had sex? How many guys?" Matt asked, sounding a little jealous. "A lady doesn't fuck and tell," you whispered, winking at Matt before the woman reappeared with the vibrator you and Matt had just picked out.

"Are you sure you don't want a sex toy recommendation, pretty boy?" The cashier turned towards Matt. He glanced between the two of you like a deer in headlights. "Uh. N-no, thank you," Matt studdered, wiping sweat from his brow.

The three of you made it back to the front of the store, walking past BDSM gear and lingerie. "Okay, with your employee discount, it's gonna be $40 even," the girl smiled at you.

"Thanks, Carly. By the way, since I'm here, can I get my paycheck?" You asked, handing her the cash in your wallet. "Yeah, girl. Of course. I'll be right back," she told you after shoving your crinkled twenty dollar bills into the register.

"You work here?" Matt asked, looking at you wide-eyed. "Just part-time," you responded. "And your co-workers know," Matt gulped. "That you masturbate?" He whispered. "Yeah, I mean, if they're the ones thinking about it in their free time, that's their prerogative," you chuckled at Matt.

Carly reappeared from getting your paycheck and handed it off to you. "See you on Tuesday!" You waved goodbye and left the store with Matt trailing behind you.

"Why would you embarrass me like that and tell her I'm a virgin?" Matt asked you, starting up his truck. "Sorry! I didn't mean to embarrass you! I was just being honest. Plus, some girls find it hot," you smiled at him while you buckled your seatbelt.

"Really? Do you?" Matt inquired, putting the truck into reverse and backing out of the parking space. "What do you think?" You narrowed your gaze at him. "I-I don't know. Is that a rhetorical question?" He asked, still bright red from the interaction with the sex shop lady while he shifted into drive. "C'mon, Matthew. Let's go home," you turned your gaze back to the road in front of you guys.

"Okay, if you tell my dad we went into a sex shop, he's going to kill me," Matt looked over at you with a serious expression as he pulled into his driveway. "Why would I tell him that? Plus, you're not going home just yet. We're gonna go hang out in my treehouse. Remember?" You reminded Matt, slugging him in the arm.

"I-I don't wanna smoke weed," Matt admitted to you. "That's fine. You don't have to. I'm not gonna make you. But I am going to smoke weed, and you can hang out with me up there while I do, and we can just talk. Get to know each other better," you suggested, staring at Matt's lips and licking your own. "Okay," Matt hesitantly agreed.

He followed you through the wooden gate on the side of your house into your backyard where the two of you climbed the rope ladder up to your treehouse. Matt noted how much bigger the structure looked on the inside once you and he were in it.

You made your way over to a bag you had stuffed in a crevice in the wooden-pannel flooring, and Matt's nose wrinkled as a pungent smell filled the air when you opened it. Matt noted that it contained a lighter, rolling papers, and several nugs of a green substance.

"You keep your weed up here?" Matt asked you, his eyes widening. He'd never seen it in person, just in movies and in pictures where teachers in school were showing him what to stay away from. "The devil's lettuce," he remembered church leaders referring to it at sermons.

"Yeah, my mom's one of those people who's in denial about everything, so if I keep it out of her sight, she can more easily pretend I don't," you snickered. You sat down on the floor with your back up against the wall, and Matt was directly across from you, leaning up against the opposite wall.

You started to roll a joint, grinding the flower up with your fingers while you watched Matt's nervous expression. "So, why don't you smoke? Does it make you paranoid or something?" You asked him as you rolled. "I don't know. I've never tried it," Matt shrugged.

"Why not?" You questioned him, licking the joint sealed as you stared into his innocent, blue eyes. "It goes against God's word," he confidently told you. "Where does it say you can't smoke weed in the Bible?" You asked, lighting the end of the paper.

"The Bible says you shouldn't alter your state of mind," Matt replied, watching the smoke from your marijuana cigarette slowly drift out the window of your treehouse. "But you had coffee this morning? Caffeine is a drug and a consciousness-altering substance," you smirked at Matt, using his own logic against him.

"That's different," he said, rolling his eyes. "How? Is it because you're one of those cherry-pick Christians?" You taunted him, blowing out another plume of smoke. "You're gonna get me second-hand high," Matt snarked at you, unbuttoning the top button on his shirt and covering his nose and mouth with it.

"You didn't answer my question. Listen, I don't care if you pick and choose what things to listen to or not, but I was just curious as to how you know what you're gonna follow or not. And you're not gonna get high. I'd have to hold you down and blow it in your mouth," you sneered at him.

The idea of you pinning him down had Matt's palms sweating and his heart racing.

"You get turned on really easily, don't you?" You seductively spoke, taking another drag. The end of the joint crackled while you inhaled. Matt licked his lips and subtly nodded.

"Naughty boy," your lips curled into a malicious grin, knowing this would drive him crazy. Matt hugged his knees up towards his chest to hide the fact that he was getting another hard on.

"So, tell me, Matt," you took a final drag off the joint and put it out. "Do you think it's a sin to masturbate?" You inquired. "Well, yeah," Matt shifted around uncomfortably. "But you still do it," you smirked at him. He silently looked at you, neither confirming nor denying your accusation.

"What's the difference if someone else did it for you?" You stared at him lustfully, testing him. "I guess I'm not sure," Matt softly responded. "Well, you should think about that," you told him as you started opening the package that contained your new vibrator.

"W-what are you doing?" Matt asked nervously. "I'm just testing it out," you assured him. "In front of me?" Matt inquired, his eyes growing wider. "Relax. I'm not gonna get off with it in front of you. Unless you want me to," you smirked at him, turning on the vibrator and running it across your palm and your wrist.

"Here, feel it," you said, crawling over beside Matt and placing it on his fingertips. "Wow. That probably feels really good," Matt quietly responded, imagining how you'd sound and look with it between your legs. "I can't wait to use it tonight," you whispered in his ear, gently grazing his earlobe with your lip. Matt's stare flicked up to meet yours while you ran the toy across his palm.

"Are you gonna think about me?" You were shocked at the words that left Matt's mouth. It was the most forward he'd been with you, and it kind of turned you on. "Of course, I am. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I met you," you quietly whispered, your gaze dancing between his perfectly blue eyes and his full, pink lips.

The tension in the air was palpable, and you felt a magnetic-like pull as the two of you leaned in to close the distance that lingered between the two of you. And just as your lips were about to touch, you heard your mom calling your name from inside the house.

You pulled back, shut off your buzzing toy, and sighed. Matt was looking at you with a desperate and needy expression. You leaned in and whispered in his ear again, "I've gotta go. Text me. And when you write about me in your diary tonight, make sure you call me mommy."

part two posted here 💖

taglist: @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @munchingmini @butterbean-01 @coolasice01 @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @jaysturniolo @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @karttpet @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @slxtformatt @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1

[ipseitydelrey]

your lips, my lips ☆ s. reid

ship sub!spencer reid x fem!reader

content/warnings smutty smut (mdni 18+), mutual masturbation, mommy kink, accidental voyeurism, he sounds like a slut you can’t blame yourself

word count 2.5k

summary after spencer returns home early from a case, you come back home after work to find him in an incredibly compromised position.

a/n ignore the accidental hiatus, but hi !! im probably not going to be able to post at all in may bc im going to be in europe for the entire month. i’m posting this before going in a cave so…enjoy this as a treat!

To put it briefly, Spencer was…awkward.

That’s not to discredit him, though. You can tell that he loves the team and you (especially you). Although he’s less awkward around people he trusts and has known for longer, he still can’t really speak up for what he wants.

And the poor boy is just so touch starved. It’s clear he’s practically clueless when it comes to other forms of intimacy aside from sympathetic hugs to friends or victims in a case. Hell, it even took a month since you started dating for Spencer to be comfortable huddling next to you on the couch; it took even longer for him to be fine with sharing the same bed.

You had barely done anything sexual yet. The closest you had probably gotten to something intimate like that with him was him involuntarily jutting his hips up into your ass when you were making out on the couch. You had hoped that he would continue to do that, especially with how you could feel his hardness pressing up against your core, but he got so flustered and started stammering out high-pitched apologies before moving away and retreating into the bathroom. You imagined that he probably took care of it, but knowing him, maybe he doesn’t jerk off.

You went with that assumption for a while since you — and especially him — hadn’t initiated anything potentially steamy. For him, makeout sessions were enough and although you wanted more, you were okay with indulging in him. You figured that with how touch starved he was, you should take it slow before moving on.

You got to leave work early, and you’re usually glad when that happens but today you’re especially happy because Spencer had just gotten back from a successful case a couple hours ago. When he landed, he immediately texted you, letting you know where he was. When you left your workplace, you had forgotten to text him that you’ll be home earlier than expected, but you’re sure that he wouldn’t mind.

After all, he’s probably just as excited to see you, if not more.

You don’t call out to him when you unlock and open the apartment door; he should hear that you’re home with the locking of the door and the tossing of the keys, as well as the rustle of your coat as you take it off and hang it up.

It’s quiet, but that isn’t really saying anything since it usually is. But you’d figured that he’d meet you at the doorway, which he didn’t.

Odd.

You’re just about to call out to him when you hear a peculiar and out-of-place sound: a moan.

Although it startles you a bit, you think that it was probably the neighbours; that doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense consdiering it’s coming from inside the apartment, but it’s more believable than…

Then you hear another one, and this time you can finally pinpoint its location. It sounds like it’s coming from the bedroom. Spencer? It’s not impossible, but you had just figured that he wouldn’t be the type to pleasure himself, especially with those sorts of reactions.

You slowly make your way towards the room in question, seeing that the door is slightly ajar, leaving a sliver for you to peer in.

What you find is a heavenly sight: Spencer, fully unclothed, splayed across the bed with his length in his fist. His pace is slow, but it’s still enough for him to whimper and moan quite audibly. His other hand is gripping tightly onto the sheets as his head pushes back against a pillow.

It’s perverted, but you feel as if you can’t tear yourself away from watching. At this point, you start to wonder if he knows you’re here or if he even heard you come into the apartment. You struggle to keep quiet as your panties grow damp, and you end up biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning at the sight.

The sound of his fist moving up and down his leaking cock is lewd, his precum dribbling down and even slightly coating his hand.

“o-oh m-mommy—” Him saying that is your breaking point, and you push the door open and enter the room.

He finally notices you and he pulls the sheets he was just grasping onto for dear life up to cover his throbbing dick. You were expecting him to do that; although what he was just doing was insanely hot, he’s still shy, even around you.

He looks away from you, clearly embarrassed he was caught. “Uh, I was— I— ah…” he attempts to explain himself but it leads nowhere. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispers, sounding defeated.

“Why are you sorry?” It’s not a needed question; you know exactly why he thinks so. You move to sit on the edge of the bed as he moves away, still having the sheets pulled up to cover himself. He stammers, but no words come out. He’s so flustered and red in his cheeks, you fear he’s about to pop.

He squirms in his position slightly while a tiny noise that you can barely hear escapes from his lips. A noise of discomfort, you recognize quickly, but you’re not sure if it’s because you just caught him in a private moment or if it’s because his cock is starting to get achy from the lack of stimulation.

“Baby,” you say in a more serious tone, leaning into the notion of his fantasy of you as his mommy, “why are you sorry?”

You stare at him, though you wish he could return your gaze. “Y-You probably feel…uncomfortable b-because—”

Softly, you shush him, holding a finger up against his lips, and you smile. “I’m not uncomfortable,” you assure him.

“You’re not?” he asks, his words vibrating against your index.

You shake your head as you pull your finger away from his lips, instead moving to grab his chin with a soft grip. His cheeks squish against your fingers softly, making his lips look even more plush and kissable. You push your lips against his gently, though it’s obvious that he’s eager from the way he pushes against your mouth to chase the kiss.

The way he whines when you pull away from him is so cute, you feel as if you want to give in to his need to have you closer to him. But he can tell that you want to do something else to satisfy him, so Spencer quiets down. Your hand, however, remains firmly yet softly gripping his jaw.

You look down at the sheets covering his lower half, his erection not-so-subtlety poking the thin fabric, and you glance back up at him. “Do you want me to…” you trail off before looking down at his boner again.

In all honesty, it takes Spencer a good second or two before he gets what you meant by that offer. “U-uh, well, ah…” he stutters. You’re not exactly sure what he wants and frankly neither is he. Based on his previous experiences with intimacy, you decide to not give him a blowjob, or even a handjob.

You both sit there in silence; you can practically cut the tension in the room with a knife. As you think of what to do — since you don’t just want to ignore it, nor do you want to leave him unsatisfied and awkward — Spencer squirms uncomfortably, shifting ever so slightly. His thighs accidentally clench together, squeezing his erection under the blanket, causing him to whimper softly. He silently hopes that you didn’t catch that noise he made, but you did…and it gave you an idea; one that will satisfy both of your urges.

“Do you wanna keep going?” You ask. He would probably much rather do this himself, although you don’t know how he would feel if he were to masturbate right in front of you.

He hesitates for a second, but he does nod shyly. You notice how he’s not meeting your gaze with his own, avoiding eye contact almost entirely. Instead, he’s looking in the direction of your waist.

Without informing him, you stand up and your hands quickly find their way to the buttons on your pants undoing them. Spencer watches with an air of anticipation and slight anxiety as you pull your pants down, a bit hastily and it definitely shows just how eager you are at this moment. Your underwear is certainly damp with how much this situation has you turned on and he can see it clearly too. You couldn’t pinpoint his expression as he sees the wetness, whether he’s nervous or intrigued, until you see him lick his lips — a motion that he only does when he’s excited.

At last, you peel off your soaked panties, but you keep your eyes on his face, wanting to see his reaction at seeing you half-naked. Sure, he’s seen you in your bra and panties before, but that was never sexual and only when you were changing clothes in front of him. He’s always looked away, the gentleman that he is, but he couldn’t resist taking a peek or two at your near-unclothed state. Just like how now, where he can see your bare pussy, glistening and wet, he just can’t resist staring.

He doesn’t mind it; no, not at all. In fact, it’s just making him even more excited, to the point where he slightly pulls down the sheets that are covering his dick — not enough to actually show his arousal, but enough to clearly see his happy trail, which has you salivating.

You get back on the bed, not bothering to take your shirt off as well. You just want to get started already, but you think it would be better if you know he’s comfortable with this whole situation first.

“Is this okay?” you ask, alluding to your nakedness as your thighs are slightly spread, giving him a nice view of your cunt.

He swallows and nods feverishly as his gaze continues to bore into your pussy; all of his attention seems to be focused there, which amuses you.

Deciding to take the initiative, your hand makes its way towards your core. You dip the tips of your fingers in your wet folds, collecting some of the slick and bringing it up to your clit, where you start to gently rub it in small and slow circles.

You hear Spencer’s breath hitch as you do this. It’s like you’re subtly encouraging him to do the same thing and start masturbating again, which is exactly what you’re going for.

He ends up pulling the covers off his pelvis completely, allowing you to see his cock-filled hand. You bite your lip at the sight of him starting to slowly stroke his length again, although timidly, as if he’s being judged. You’re not doing that, of course; you wouldn’t dare judge him for doing something so pleasing in front of you.

He keeps avoiding your gaze so you lean forward as you continue to massage your clit gently and you bring your other hand to tilt his head up by his chin to look at you. The eye contact you both have now is both awkward yet erotic. You’re not really doing anything with each other, you’re just two people touching themselves in front of the other.

A couple minutes into this shared experience, Spencer is starting to get more confident and less self-conscious. His strokes are getting longer and faster, making him produce more noises from his throat; mostly small whimpers with the occasional moan but by god, those small moans just get you going. You end up quickening your pace too and you let yourself make tiny whines too.

Eventually, your fingers move from your clit and back down to your folds, where you insert a finger into your cunt. The sound that falls from your lips after you do so is more motivation for Spencer to speed up again. You thrust your finger in and out at the same pace as his hand and you’re sure you both are imagining something more intimate at this point.

You add a second finger and then later on a third and now, a few minutes later, you’re both moving in sync and moaning up a storm. His moans are louder though, but you don’t mind at all. They just give you more reason to speed up and keep going.

Nearing the end, you’re wondering who’s going to cum first. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Spencer did so before you since he’s been jerking off for longer than you have but with the way the pleasure is building up in your stomach, you’re not entirely sure anymore; your mind is just focused on the intense pleasure and nothing else.

“O-oh god…” you hear him whine. Now you know who is going to finish first.

“You gonna cum, baby?” It takes you some effort to ask that question, especially since for the past ten or so minutes, you’ve just been touching yourselves without even talking.

“Mhm,” he hums in response as he nods. His hand is going at such a quick pace that you can clearly hear how his precum-coated palm is moving up and down his cock. “S’much, I…”

“It’s okay, honey,” you stammer out. Then, in your pleasure-fueled haze, an idea forms in your head. “You can cum. Cum for mommy~”

The use of that nickname for you really gets him going and he can no longer hold himself back. “M-mommy!” he cries out with a gasp for air as cum spurts out of the tip of his cock. He lets his head hang back and his eyelids flutter as his orgasm hits him and it’s beautiful for you to watch. It only motivates you to speed up even more, wanting to reach your peak as fast as possible. You probably shouldn’t rush it to savor the moment but in this case, rushing is fine to you.

After his intense orgasm, Spencer watches with bated breath as you cum. Your hips rock forward, practically riding your own fingers while your back arches and your murmurs grow incoherent. If he wasn’t tired, Spencer is pretty sure that he would be turned on again immediately just from watching you finger yourself. He is almost positive that you’re thinking of riding him instead of your fingers, and he would be correct in that assessment.

The pleasure slowly dissipates until you’re left with the incredibly awkward feeling of having just jerked off in front of your boyfriend. Both of you aren’t really sure what to say or what to do considering this was technically your first shared sexual experience since you had started dating.

“Um—” “So—” you both say at the same time. You don’t know how to move forward in a gracious manner, so you shyly get off the bed and put your underwear and pants back on. He still sits in the bedsheets, which are slightly damp from the sweat accumulated from the experience.

He moves towards the edge of the bed — towards you — and sits up straight, trying not to feel embarrassed that he’s still naked. And even though he felt uncomfortable about being touched while nude prior, he plants his lips on yours.

You weren’t expecting this but it’s a welcome surprise, as you chase his kiss with all the energy you have left; which isn’t a lot, but is enough. He breaks from the kiss, but leaves his forehead against yours as he looks at you like a dog.

“Thank you, mommy.”

hopefully it wasn’t that bad <3 join the taglist

[angelic--kitty]

𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖌

𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖓!𝖑𝖆 𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖓𝖔𝖗𝖆

warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, siren!transfem signora x sub!fem reader, dark content, kidnapping, oviposition, cunnilingus, handjob, penetration, breeding kink, biting, blood, size kink, dacryphilia, exhibitonism/voyeurism, reader is a uni student

a/n: apologies for the late post!! i have been super busy and sleepy lately with my rotations and opening another blog. thank you all for your patience, mwah ♡♡♡ also please note, this has a dark content warning !

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗

a fall-break research trip studying ocean acidification and its impacts. that was all it was supposed to be.

you all laughed when your professor, in jest, told you not to fall into the water, lest you meet your icy demise. after all, it was cheapest for your school to get a boat big enough for 20 when nobody wanted to actually be on said boat.

you thought your stupid little life vest would save you. surely the scariest thing was the water itself?

if only drowning really was the most dangerous thing you'd encounter...

it was all a blur, really. one minute, you were in bed, sea and homesick, and the next, you found yourself stumbling up onto the deck, lured by some strange and soft melody.

it called to you, and only you, it seemed, by the lack of other people being disturbed.

you hadn't known; you couldn't have known. but she was watching you. she spotted you on the deck earlier in your little trip, hungry eyes tracing over you from a distance as she spotted that sweet spark of innocence and curiosity.

if you were a man, perhaps she would have already pulled you into the depths, feasted on your flesh, and tossed you back into the sea for other creatures to feed on the scraps.

but you were soft, gentle, she wanted to keep you, protect you, only to ruin you herself.

you lean over the railing, confused, eyes glazed over as you continue to tilt forward, on your tip-toes now. so close, she could almost taste you when she opened her mouth wider to sing.

you look down at her in the water. she was beautiful. your brain was too fuzzy to register the warning signs that your body desperately wanted you to see.

her claws. her teeth. the blood still lingering on her skin. how her singing made you completely oblivious to it all.

you tipped over the edge, only gasping and coming to when you hit the freezing water. you immediately panic, but something comes over you, a darkness that flood your vision at the same time hands wrap around you, carrying you far, far away from your little ship before anyone could notice you were missing.

hopefully, you had said your adequate goodbyes. after all, you wouldn't be speaking to anybody other than her ever again.

but would that be so bad? she had every intention of keeping her new pet comfortable and taken care of. she'd keep you company, keep you well-fed, light a fire when your feeble human form couldn't stand the cold. which was awfully generous for her.

you only came to when you'd been deposited into a cave, hacking up sea water from your lungs while you lay weakly on your side. your arms tremble as you lift yourself up slowly, trying to get a grip on reality.

your... everything hurt right now. your head was swimming, eyes stinging, body aching. you wondered what happened, where you were.

specifically; where were your clothes?

letting out a soft yelp, you cover yourself, despite believing to be alone as you curl up against the cave wall, looking down at something shiny on your ankle.

a string of pearls and glittery jewels chained around your ankle. a matching set had been strung around your neck, almost like a collar?

she watches you, just barely peeking out of the water as you grow acquainted with your new home. she had picked a relatively warm cave, with comfortable waters that come in handy later on when she would finally mate with you.

she gave you just enough time to stand up before announcing her presence, approaching you carefully. like a little lamb, you cowered, crying and scampering away, kicking out feebly despite the sheer power and size difference between you.

"stop making such a fuss. do not make yourself more trouble than you're worth." she spits, her voice still sweet-sounding to you despite her brash tone.

you blink up at her, chest rising and falling, frightened as you cower. "what are you?" is all you can muster. "where am i?"

she hums thoughtfully, swimming to your side. "you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about such trivial things." she grins, sharp teeth glinting in the low cave light. she reaches out to touch you, clawed fingers gently lifting your palm up.

she traces the lines in your skin with a delicate finger, smiling happily to herself. oh, you were perfect. so docile and sweet. she could only imagine how wet and warm you'd feel when she finally had you wrapped around her.

your breaths were shaky as she lifted your palm to her lips, gently nipping at your wrist as you yelp, trying to pull away in a futile manner.

the blood dripped slowly, only stopped by her tongue as she licked up the crimson trails, moaning to herself. "you're so sweet... it seems it might just be an excellent choice in itself to maintain you rather than to gobble you up all at once." she muses, lapping the wound to stop the bleeding.

as time goes on, you grow closer to her, and you've learned never to question her. anything about going home, your friends, your school, what she planned to do with you; they were all off limits. unless you wanted her to remind you of your place.

you were to be her sweet little pet, and eventually her mate. though, she began to grow fond of you, much to her own surprise. she enjoyed having you around much more than any human she's ensnared previously. she likes speaking with you. she likes bringing you shiny little gifts. she... preens when you tell her you like them, her chest puffing out when you put the jewelry on display.

she kept you stark naked at all times, of course, enjoying the view. when you'd lean over, she'd get the perfect view of your cute little pussy. when you'd sit on her lap, your jewelry would brush your nipples just so, teasing you while perking the little buds up so she could trail her claws across them.

you liked it too... teasing such a powerful creature, unknowingly having her wrapped around your finger. you'd open your thighs more for her, showing off before climbing into the soft nest she made for you. your back would arch more than usual when stretching to make her look at your tits. you'd look up with such pretty eyes when you knelt beside her, giving her the perfect vision of what you'd look like sucking her off like the perfect pet you were.

it isn't long until her mating season comes, and she has you in the water, nervously hovering over her lap. she coos at you, kissing your cheek and down your neck and chest. she stops to tease your nipples with the tip of her tongue, instead pushing you up and out of the water, thighs spread for her.

you curiously try to sit up, only to have a large hand press you right back down. "sit still, pet." she orders, holding your thighs open for her while she places teasing kisses closer and closer to your center.

her tongue feels like heaven and hell all at once on your clit, your moans turning into squeals as she slides the muscle into your hole, indulging in your whimpers and whines that she "feels so big!" and how it's just "too much!"

you're so cute in how you squirm, tearing up when her nails pierce your flesh, drawing bubbles of blood with how animalistic she is in devouring your cunt.

and, oh, your tears look so pretty, pooling in your eyes, dripping down your cheeks as she pushes you over the edge several times until your slick is smeared across her face and your thighs.

as she leans up, you feel a hardness brush your thighs, looking down with exhaustion and curiosity at her once flat slit. she grins, cheeky bastard, at how your eyes widen.

"what is that?" you ask, almost breathlessly. she guides your hand to wrap around her, hissing as your palm touches her flesh.

her hand carries yours in a steady rhythm, your eyes never leaving her cock as you look at the slick beading at her tip. it seems a lot wetter than a human's would be...slimier too.

your nose wrinkles, and she scoffs, moving your hand faster, coating your skin in the substance. she brings herself right over the edge with practiced movements, spurting across your hand and chest, some splattering onto your face as you blink, shocked.

she cleans you up with a dangerously sharp thumb, making you lick it up off her hand. "that's it, good girl." her voice is low, pleased as she pulls you back into the water, tip prodding at your entrance.

it seems her refractory time puzzles you as you whine while she teases your already over-sensitive clit. "hush." she silences you by sliding her tongue into your mouth, making you taste yourself while she pulls you down onto her.

you mewl, eyes scrunching shut as she stretches you out for the first time together. you feel so full despite only having a few inches of her inside. she completely covers your body, her full chest brushing yours as she keeps you close to her.

once she finally has you seated against her, you're already shaking and whimpering, trying to escape from being so full.

"too- too much! can't-!"

"you can." she asserts. "how else am i to breed you?" she grunts and you whine for her so prettily, arching up against her.

your moans are like music to her ears as she fucks you impossibly deep, nestling into your g-spot while you squeeze around her. she grunts praises into your ear, grabbing at your body while the jewels she's decorated you with clink together with each thrust.

such a prized and pretty pet you are all for her. and what an even lovlier mate you're going to make once she fills you up with her eggs... she can picture it now, the two of you raising your little hatchlings together.

just the thought has her hips stuttering as she begins to put her focus into getting you off one last time. the perfect orgasm to send you into euphoria to distract you from the impending discomfort of depositing her eggs.

you cum so beautifully for her, crying out as you coat her cock once more, giving her the opportunity to push deeper, hearing your startled moan as something round pushes into you.

"what- what's-" you stutter, feebly grabbing onto her shoulders as you look down at your stomach, seeing a strange roundness.

she coos at you, almost condescendingly, as she grunts, pulling you close and depositing the last of her eggs. "you're going to be a wonderful mother, pet. don't worry, i'll take good care of you." she purrs, cuddling you closer as the realization dawns upon you.

but you're much too sleepy, eyes closing as you curl up against her body, letting her bob in the water and lull you to sleep with promises of being a wonderful mate.

[goldsainz]

❝ NSFW ALPHABET ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . aemond targaryen x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . MINORS DNI! smut (unprotected sex, slight sub/dom dynamics, voyeurism, mummy kink (but not really), cum play, rough fucking), lewd language, slight mention of aemond’s first visit to the brothel, touch-starved aemond, barely proofread.

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . aemond’s behaviour in the bedroom.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . ignore that the man in the picture has dark hair, it’s hard finding good quality aesthetic pictures😔 requests are open for aemond (he’s a bad man but he’s my man okay… like i respect a good villain i’m sorry) (but also hate him cause why you beefing with lucerys and rhaenys…). anyway, happy reading i hope you all enjoy this!

[ word count: 2,6k ]

A — AFTERCARE . . . what they're like after sex!

Aemond doesn’t really know what aftercare truly entails, he learns how to be better at it with you. He will clean you if a mess is made, can run a bath if necessary, and then lay down with you. It takes time for him to cuddle, but eventually he caves in. He may not say it but he craves that affection and security by knowing you're so close to him. 

B — BODY PART . . . their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's!

THEIRS . . . His torso. It might be a weird thing to love about himself , but he most loves it because you cling around his waist and place your head against his chest. He is incredibly toned, just a mass of hard muscle but he can see the comfort you find in it. Another thing he loves is seeing the marks you leave on him, he’s prouder of those than any scar he receives while battling.

YOURS . . . He adores your tits. Adores watching the way they move when you’re breathing in those tight dresses you always complain about, he also adores resting his head on them and seeking comfort in the soft flesh. Aemond peppers kisses on them so much you have to resort to wearing high-neck dresses to hide the marks, which in turn means getting even more because your husband cannot control himself. 

C — CUM . . . anything to do with cum, basically!

This man is messy. He does not care where he cums, whether it's your face and chest when you suck him off or deep inside you, he’s a mess. You need to clean yourself thoroughly after being with him because he leaves you covered in it. He knows he could be more controlled with it, but something about you being sticky from his cum makes him feral and thus he cannot be any other way. He likes to takes his hand and spread over your body, placing his cum-covered hand and placing it between your lips and has you suck on them.

D — DIRTY SECRET . . . pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs!

Aemond wants to fuck you with an audience. He craves staking his claim over you for all the realms to see, to have the world see but never know how good you feel. Have you moan his name, make you desperate for him, while the others boil with envy at the connection the two of you have. Though, as much as the imagery makes him hard, he is far too possessive to ever really dare do it. 

E — EXPERIENCE . . . how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?

He has little to no experience. Aegon dragged him to a brothel once, but he didn't learn much from and rather steered away from that world. Still, Aemond loves to learn and study so he gathered whatever knowledge he could from books and then put them into practice when he married you. He learned all the little things that made you squirm, how to get certain noises from you, and how to take care of you. With time, he became an expert and you were always left more than satisfied from your activities. 

F — FAVOURITE POSITION . . . this goes without saying!

Mating press is his preferred position. He gets everything he wants from it, the intimacy from being able to see you and the dominance of having you pressed against him, willing to take whatever he gives you. The skin-to-skin contact, the intimate eye-contact and deep penetration makes him adore this position. It is raw and primal, all the things Aemond longs for when being intimate. 

G — GOOFY . . . are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.

Aemond prefers it to be a serious moment. He finds that passion is what's most important during the act, with him willing you to submit to him while he takes charge. If something humorous occurs he won't be deterred by it, most likely indulging in what happened and slowly bringing the mood back into a more serious atmosphere. Truthfully, he’s not a person to joke around much and the bedroom will not be the place to start doing so. 

H — HAIR . . . how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

Probably as well groomed as the times allow him to be. He finds it to be more comfortable, to be finely polished all-around, he’s a bit of a perfectionist and any thing that is not up to measure he detest. Have you seen how beautiful his locks are? That does not end in just the hair on his head. As for the carpet matching the drapes, his hair is that beautiful silver shade of white all over. 

I — INTIMACY . . . how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect.

He wants to be romantic, but he resorts to small shows of affection. He is deeply passionate but it does not come from a romantic place, more so an urge to claim you. In his head he wishes to be more romantic, to show his love for you in the sheets, but since he does not know how to properly do so he refrains from trying. Not that you seem to mind, you also lean into the more primitive ways he fucks you, rough and senselessly. Intimacy is displayed by the way he holds you, the eye contact you make (eyepatch off, he trusts you so he is totally bare), and the deep kisses he gives you.

J — JACK OFF . . . masturbation headcanon!

Only when he is away from you. His touch does not even begin to compare to yours, his hand is not as soft as yours or even as gentle. He much rather prefers to build up his need for you and  just wait to fuck you than the mediocre orgasm he could get with his own hand. 

K — KINK . . . one or more of their kinks!

Mommy kink… look at him and try to argue that. That man needs an affectionate touch, one that slightly resembles a child. It takes him a while to really lean into it, perhaps he does not outwardly call you “mommy” but his actions and the way he almost whines when you run your hands through his hair, he’s definitely thinking about calling you mommy so bad. Another kink he has is voyeurism, as previously mentioned, he fantasises way too much about that scenario. He has taken you in places where you could’ve gotten caught, that rush makes it all the more sweeter for Aemond. Being a dominant is also something he indulges in more, making you be his only and have you all to himself. That eagerness you have to submit to him, the look you give him almost like he’s a God? He could almost melt on the spot.   

L — LOCATION . . . favourite places to do the deed!

Anywhere where he can have you spread, eager for his touch and he can touch every single inch of your skin. He is not picky of the surface in which he fucks you on, Aemond is always ready to be inside you. While he prefers your bed because of its comfortability, he is actually not as picky as one might think. There was one time where he was in the council room, and he sneakily dragged you in and ravaged you on the council’s table. You trying to stifle your rooms, the risk of possibly getting caught and the rush he got from fucking you in a room that was not meant for such an act, it was all too much to bear. He sometimes dreams about that evening, wishing to repeat it.

M — MOTIVATION . . . what turns them on, gets them going!

Everything about you attracts him, but those moments when you act like a brat and give him attitude? Aemond does not know what to do with himself. In his mind all that he can muster up is the need to put you in your place, but not because he’s mad at you, never that; because he loves to be the one to tame you. Your combative attitude is reserved just for him, to the realm you're the picture of grace but to him? Sometimes you cross the line, if you weren’t his wife he’d surely punish you… and he does, but in a most pleasurable way. 

N — NO . . . something they wouldn't do, turn offs!

Anything that involves sharing. You’re only his, no other being deserves to be even looked by you, much less touched. He also wants you to be sound of mind when you’re intimate, if you’re drunk or asleep, he is not pursuing any sexual desires. Though when you’re drunk you’re much bolder, he is only amused by it not aroused. 

O — ORAL . . . preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

He quite likes being the receiver. There is nothing alike to the sight of you on your knees, pleasuring him as if it was your only duty. Aemond doesn’t mind being the one to go on his knees, with an eager tongue and the prize of your breathy moans. It is much harder for him to submit to you which is why he’d much rather you pleasure him. Even you like being under his mercy, giving him that dominance that he so craves. 

P — PACE . . . are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

Aemond is usually fast and rough, he fuck you so hard you can feel him for days and leaves your insides aching. He usually worries about his harshness, seeing you limp right after tugs at his heart. Yet, when he’s pounding in you and you scream for more, he forgets about most of those thoughts. He can be slow and sensual if he wishes, taking his time and making you cry for his touch, he sometimes needs that reassurance that you want him just as much as he wants you.

Q — QUICKIE . . . their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

He thoroughly enjoys a good quickie. It gives him a moment to relieve his stress, to have some semblance of comfort. Whether it’s his study or against one of the library shelves, he aches to have you even for just mere minutes. Aemond likes them so because it is a taste of what he will surely have later, it almost makes him need you and your touch more. It is safe to say he approves of quickies. 

R — RISK . . . are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.

Taking risks is something he loves. He is always eager to try out a new position or christen a new place in the Red Keep. Aemond wants to try all that there is to partake in at least once, some he does again and some he swears to keep hidden, never to be mentioned again. Is he slightly too feral about all things related to sex? Mayhaps, but you enjoy it just as much as he does. 

S — STAMINA . . . how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?

Aemond is a skilled swordsman, his stamina is off the roofs. He trains for hours on end, making himself the perfect warrior, it is not surprising that all that pent up energy is used on you and your bedroom activities. He can easily go for 2 - 5 rounds, lasting for about 8 minutes when he is inside you… though if he is needier, it could take just a few minutes. It is almost impossible to exhaust him, in fact, you’re sure he could be rustling all day between the sheets but as much as you love your husband, there is so much your body can take. 

T — TOYS . . . do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?

He has some, but they are rare. It is not like he doesn’t like the, but he prefers you reaching your peak solely by his hand than another object. Besides, there are not many sexual toys to begin with. Not unless he visits a brothel or has them shipped from Essos.

U — UNFAIR . . . how much they like to tease!

Biggest tease on all of Westeros. He’s making you beg like there is a reward for it, has you squirming and whining for him to touch you more and to stop touching (though that is not what you truly want). He builds up your desire until you cannot form a coherent thought anymore. Aemond takes his time kissing your body, brushing his fingers against your bundle of nerves. He needs you to give yourself wholly to him, tears in your eyes as you beg him to claim you. 

V — VOLUME . . . how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

Not really loud, he lets out rough grunts and breathy gasps when he ruts inside you or his cock is in your mouth, but that’s as far as it goes. He much prefers listening to the sounds you make, attentive to the way your body expresses all that you feel because of him. Aemond lets out a deep groan when he spills himself inside you, that is the moment he makes the most sound.  

W — WILD CARD . . . a random headcanon for the character!

Aemond once tried to coax you to let him touch you while riding on dragonback. It was a short trip above King’s Landing and he had decided to take you with him to spend more time together, and he took the opportunity to propose a wild idea (he still thinks it wasn’t that wild). But you only looked at him as if he were crazy, shaking your head side-to-side and turning down his proposition. There were many things you were willing to try, but this was too out there. You didn’t feel totally secure in the air to do such an activity, even if it was only touching. Also, poor Vhagar, she doesn’t deserve to be witness to such depravity… She just wanted to fly peacefully for once!

X — X-RAY . . . let's see what's going on under those clothes!

Around 14 cm or 5,5 inches. Though what makes him more impressive is how girthy he is. He hits all the right spots inside you, filling you to the brim. Aemond becomes so greatly skilled that there is no way you can complain about anything. 

Y — YEARNING . . . how high is their sex drive?

He is insatiable. Thinks about all the ways he wants to ravage you at least once a day. If you’re near him? That man is about to risk it all, lose all honours he has just to have a taste of you. Aemond needs to get off you, honestly, he is almost too attracted to you. He needs to have you at least once a day, he doesn't care about anything. You’re on your period? That man simply does not care. You are not feeling well? He knows something that could cheer you up. Nothing could deter him from being intimate with him. 

Z — ZZZ . . . how quickly they fall asleep after sex!

Only falls asleep once he knows you are, he likes to pretend it's for your safety but truly he enjoys watching you be so calm around him. Sleep does not come easy to him, usually plagued by nightmares and thus avoids fully giving himself to the darkness. But being with you helps, your body wrapped by his, hugging you tightly and caressing your hair. He admires your sleeping form and how beautiful you are, that soothes him. The best sleep he has ever gotten has been with you in his arms, no doubt about that. 

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter three)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 3/? (MASTERLIST)

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, power play, oral sex, thigh riding, degradation, dirty talk, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

taglist: if you’d like to be tagged, leave a comment on the masterlist post and i’ll add you! 💌

a/n: thank you for your patience and condolences / kind messages over the past week i’ve been awol. i’m very happy to be back. very long, filthy and much awaited chapter ahead, so strap in and hope you enjoy the ride.

in the words of miss zegler herself: oh we are so back.

You weren’t sure how long he stared at you, smiling with a fire in his eyes that rivalled yours until it was eclipsed. A third and final time, you found yourself speechless, dumbstruck, and one final time, much like the others, you took a few shaky steps backwards, before turning and fleeing.

He knew. He’d known this whole time. How long had he been planning this? Exactly how much of this had been an act, with Snow puppeteering you as you slowly lost your mind?

You almost felt pity for the girl, because she was played just like you were. She was a mere pawn in his game of chess, where he’d toyed with you until you were backed into a corner, unable to make a move.

Well, not this time. Now you knew what he was playing, you were ready to up your game. This wouldn’t be another stalemate; you wanted to win, and you had a few ideas of where to start.

You were already up and dressed when you heard a knock at your door the next morning.

Dreading the worst – despite the fact that Snow had never actually been in your room before, but the rules had changed now and you weren’t sure quite how much – you paused for a second to prepare yourself, praying that he wouldn’t be there, ready to put a stop to your plans before they’d even started.

You fell lucky. It was one of Snow’s footmen, George.

“Good morning, ma’am. I, um.” He swallowed, not meeting your eye. “I have a message from Master Snow. He’d like for you to meet him for breakfast in a half hour, if you will. He says you have something… quite important to discuss.”

Typical Snow. Never liked to get his hands dirty. Too proud to knock at your door himself.

You considered.

“George, could you please tell Coriolanus that if I’ve already eaten, and that I’ll come to him when I see fit. If he isn’t satisfied,” you added, for his sake, as you knew Snow wasn’t above killing the messenger, “Say I have an urgent matter to tend to, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

You grew a lump in your throat from your refusal, fearing the consequences. But you’d set your plan into motion now and there was no going back. Once George had been sent on his way, you snuck down the stairs on the far end of the building and slipped out the door through the servants’ quarters, where you knew Snow wouldn’t see you leave. The one upside to the last few weeks was that you’d learned how to sneak around the manor unnoticed. You were certain there were at least three hallways he’d had never even set foot in.

You had Lucille call Henry – Snow’s driver – in advance so you could leave right away.

“Where are we going, ma’am?” He glanced at you over his shoulder as you slid into the black town car.

“Head into the city. I’ll explain on the way.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Henry took some convincing – and some light bribing – to finally cave and tell you what and where this gentleman’s club was. Of course, it was a risk, a roll of the dice to go there without concrete proof, but you knew Snow. You knew his little neuroses and hang-ups, and he was paranoid; in all senses, it would seem, except when it came to you. If he’d been frequenting this club for some time – some years, according to Henry – and trusted their discretion, then you highly doubted he’d play Russian roulette and pick somewhere else.

You were dropped off outside, and sent Henry to the tailor to pick up some of Snow’s things; an excuse for the outing, but a part of your plan too. He was hesitant to leave you alone in such a place, but you insisted you knew exactly how to handle yourself, and so he gave in.

You’d deliberately dressed down for what you were about to do, worn your old coat and let your hair down with a hood pulled over it. It being daytime, the place was closed for business, but you knocked on the front door expectantly.

You waited. Went over the plan, and knocked again.

This time, the door opened and a burly man now stood between you and the inside of the brothel. Your curiosity made peek over his shoulder before he cleared his throat.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes. My name is Margaret, sir, I’m a maid at the, uh,” You dropped your voice to a low whisper, “Snow household. I have a message for the owner of this establishment, from my master. Is he here?”

The man cleared his throat and glanced around the nearly empty street, then beckoned you in quickly.

“Anything for Mr Snow, miss. Right this way.”

There was your proof.

The empty club was a classy one, you had to give Snow that. The bar caught your eye, silver panels lining the wall behind it in an otherwise jet-black glossy room, with dark red couches and shiny tables, booths, single chairs, a stage with shiny metal poles, and a few cordoned-off alcoves.

You took it all in, certain you’d be able to appreciate the aesthetics of it more if it wasn’t for the seething rage inside you. You were stopped at a closed door near the back, and the burly man knocked.

“Yeah.” Came a voice from inside.

“All yours. He’ll take care of you.” Your guide stepped away. You pushed at the door.

A dark-haired man sat facing a desk, poring over paperwork. He didn’t look up.

“If you’re here for a job, sweetie, it’s Tuesday after 11.”

This incensed you.

“I’m not here for work. This is official business. I was told you take care of… special clients.”

He spun around, frowning.

“I’m listening.”

“I have a message from President Snow. He has a series of requests to be carried out with no delay.”

“Ah, yes. Mr Snow. I see. And you are to him?” He prompted.

“Just a maid from the household. He sent me as a messenger.”

“Excellent. Well in that case, of course, miss. How can I be of service?”

You took a breath, hoping desperately that he didn’t see right through you.

“Firstly, the shoes your girl wore.”

“What would he like with them?” He asked.

“He’d like to keep them. He’s willing to pay, and he’s not up for a price negotiation. This should cover them.” You slipped a bill across the table, and he nodded. You learned long ago that money causes loose lips, and this man was no exception.

“Of course,” he obliged, “They’re in the lockers through that door there. I’ll bring them to you. We ordered them in specially for Veronica, he made a point for her to wear them on the first floor. Usually our girls get instructions to sneak through clients’ houses quietly, but we handle every request as thoroughly as possible.” He chuckled.

That fucker. He really had planned it all out to get in your head.

“Was there anything else I can do for you, miss?”

You swallowed thickly.

Here goes.  

“Yes, actually. As of today, he’ll no longer be needing your services, or her services. He’d like to terminate your contract, and he doesn’t wish to see her again. Ever.”

The owner blinked. His mouth moved, as if he was about to say something, but then it closed again.

“But, um,” he stammered, “It’s only been three weeks. Veronica is our best girl, and he’s her top client. She carried out his orders to the absolute best of her ability, I can assure you. Are you sure those were his words?”

You sighed.

“She’s getting off lucky with a dismissal. Take it as a warning, sir. President Snow doesn’t show mercy to thieves. If she shows her face again, I can guarantee you, he’ll have her head.”

His face turned plum-red with horror.

“She was… stealing?”

In a way, yes.

“She was caught by a maid last night.” You nodded, and the owner swallowed thickly.

“I – I understand, Miss. I am terribly sorry for this. I apologise that our services weren’t up to your master’s expectations, truly. Please, if there’s anything I can do- and I can assure you, I’ll be having some very stern words-”

You cut him off.

“There is one more thing, as a matter of fact."

"Anything." He pleaded.

"You can send word that… Veronica, is it? She’ll be paying him a visit this evening. But you are not, under any circumstances, to send her. Am I understood?”

He furrowed his brows, puzzled. But you stared back challengingly and held your ground.

A small, sheepish smile formed on his face.

“Much obliged. I can assure you your requests will be carried out with the utmost discretion.”

“Thank you.”

He brought you the heels in a shiny box, and you turned and left.

Henry was waiting outside, and you slid back into the car.

“Get what you needed, ma’am?”

“I certainly did.”

The drive home was your chance to pick up lunch, finetune your plan, and go through the suits you’d had Henry pick up from the tailor.

They looked impeccable – crisp and creaseless, the white shirts brighter than the stars, and the maroon red jackets and waistcoats deeper than blood itself. It was one of these jackets that you chose to take upstairs with you, leaving the rest to be taken up to Snow’s room later, hoping the missing item would go unnoticed.

You retraced your way up the winding stairs of the manor. Luckily, Lucille had informed you Snow had left not long after you that morning, and was expected to be gone until evening. Nonetheless, your paranoia made you glance left, right and left again before every turn. Finally, after an exhaustingly long morning, you were back in the safety of your own room.

But the work was far from finished. You ate quickly, then began getting ready for your discussion with Snow. He hadn’t sent for you again; he was too proud. You took pride in knowing he’d be positively seething at your turning him down that morning. You kept going, showering, teasing your hair, adding a little more makeup than usual – not excessive, but enough to make a difference – then finally wandered the room as you picked your wardrobe for later.

You lay out the heels – which were a little big on you, but would serve their purpose – as well as the jacket you’d stolen, taking the time to run your fingers over the smooth maroon velvet you’d felt only briefly before, when brushing against Snow at public events. You then dug through your underwear drawer, debating between a red lingerie set and a white. You picked the latter; the tones of red would blend in with the jacket and white made more of a statement.

Innocence. If only.

You checked the time. Three hours or so until Coriolanus would be expecting Veronica. You hoped that he would be back by then, and more so, that your performance with the brothel owner had been enough to hold him to his promise of sending word. But if you’d learnt anything from Snow, it was that fear commanded respect, and better yet, obedience. So your doubts were few and far between.

In all honesty, that’s what had drawn you to Snow in the first place. It wasn’t about money; your family had money, more than they knew what to do with. It was the power, the fear. Even the richest man in the world would crumble to the ground with a gun to his head. Power trumps wealth every time, and the enigmatic, newly elected President was by far the most powerful man in Panem.

It was its own kind of thrill, pursuing a man like that. The temptation to get him wrapped around your fingers, ravenous, hungry for power, hungry for him. It all blurred together at this point, the man was like a magnet. You wondered if this thirst for more, always more, was an affliction the two of you shared. Or perhaps, an affliction you’d developed a taste for because of him. And the longer you spent at his side, the louder it began to beat in your chest like a second heart. You wanted to consume it, and let it consume you.

It thrummed in your chest now, adrenaline coursing in your veins. You fidgeted as you waited for the hours to pass, your craving growing with each second. You flicked through a few books; you drafted a letter to your mother. Each tick of the clock bringing you closer to finally taking the one thing you’d wanted since the day you met Coriolanus Snow. It was almost time for your big move.

✩✩✩✩

As enough darkness crept into your room and you stood to light some candles, you heard soft footsteps pass your door.

For a change, you recognised them as Snow’s, even and deliberate. He was home. With half an hour to spare until he’d be expecting his whore.

You jumped at the opportunity to change. Slowly and carefully, you slipped out of your clothes and into the underwear set, until you were clad in crisp white lace, with a matching garter belt as a finishing touch. You slid on Snow’s jacket – which smelled like him, of his cologne – the usual fitted shape it would give Snow now hanging loose and slack around your body, falling to the tops of your thighs. You did up the first button, tracing the neckline that plunged down your chest, leaving very little to the imagination. You slipped into the heels, checked the time, and after scanning yourself over in the mirror, made for the door.

The few worries you had about being seen by the staff were short-lived; the hallway lights were dim as you wobbled in the heels, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. You weren’t sure if Snow had fallen for your plan, but what mattered was that as you turned the corner, there were lights shining from under his bedroom door. He was in there, waiting. By now, it was odd seeing it closed. You tried your best to emulate the sound of the footsteps you’d drilled into your brain, the clicks giving you a sense of power knowing Snow – apprehensive or not – would be in for at least one surprise.

Click. Click. Click.

You considered pausing before barging in, but you didn’t. When you reached the end of the hallway, seconds away from your fate, you reached out a hand, pushed Snow’s door open, and walked right inside.

Snow was there; of course he was. Facing his dresser and away from you, he didn’t flinch at the sound of your arrival. You closed the door behind you, and took a step towards him. Stared at his back, scanning his black dress pants and the white shirt he’d rolled up to his elbows, cufflinks on the table, blonde curls a little unruly as he smoothly poured himself a drink.

This, right here, was where the solid part of your plan ended. It was caution to the wind from here on out, and you could practically taste it, high off the adrenaline; off his presence. And he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

This was the moment of truth.

“Well,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Look who finally figured it out.”

“Not who you were expecting?”

“She’d never reschedule.” he said simply, turning on his heels, eyes glinting at you. “Figured you were up to something. Drink?”

“Think I’ll pass.”

He approached you, eyes scanning your body, deliberately clad in the skimpiest underwear you owned. You figured this was as good a time as any to unbutton the jacket and let it fall open. It brushed your sides, and you watched him lower his glance, hungrily taking you in for what could quite possibly be the very first time. He wet his lips, took another sip.

There it is.

There was that power you craved, that look that you’d been aching to see in his eyes while he stared at you, and although it was fucked up, you let the pride fill your head with confidence, and stepped forward.

“Now, just where did you get that?” A slight narrowing of his eyes gave him away. At least something you’d done had made an impression.

“Borrowed it. In case I get cold.” You smiled.

“Cute. Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to take things that aren’t yours?”

“Oh, I take whatever I want, Snow.”

You raised your head in defiance. Proud of your voice for not faltering once.

“Clearly. Nice shoes. Borrow those, too?”

“Why, do they look familiar?” you quipped.

“I think we both know the answer to that, doll. Now why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

You sighed, feigning exasperation. A chill crept up your legs but you barely noticed.

“You wanted to talk to me, Coriolanus. Talk.”

“Is that really what you came here for, sweetheart? Dressed like that?” He put his drink down on the dresser, not once looking away from you.

“If this is what it takes to get your attention, Snow, then yes.”

You took another step closer, and the jacket fell further to your sides, more skin slipping out from underneath for him to feast his eyes on.

“I think you know plenty about trying to get my attention. I watched you struggle for weeks.”

“Didn’t think you cared.” You muttered.

He laughed, low, more like a scoff.

“What, your childish attempts at seduction? They were pitiful at best. I’d expect that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady of your standing.”

“Thought you liked whores.” You retorted.

“They’re no fun to live with. And there you were, proving my point.”

Your eyes narrowed, and when you spoke, it was through gritted teeth.

“So what, you had to go and fuck one to prove a point? Mature.”

“Mature?” he glowered, then before you could think, he stormed towards you, grabbing both of your wrists with a hard squeeze. You gasped.

“Mature like you, with your short skirts and your fuck-me eyes, sucking your fingers off at the breakfast table?”

You squirmed. Tried to jolt yourself away but it was no use.

“I didn’t think you-”

“Oh, I noticed.” He said, moving in to corner you, grip tightening until he was walking you backwards across the room as he spoke, never once taking his eyes off you. “And it’s a real shame this couldn’t have been easier for us both, but you just had to start it. So I watched your pathetic little displays, day after day, knowing if you’d behaved better, I would’ve given you exactly what you wanted.”

You fought not to trip over yourself until your legs bumped against the ottoman at the foot of his bed and you caught your breath. His eyes bored into yours and you blinked helplessly. His grip loosened on your wrists. You tried to speak, but your mouth had gone dry.

“If you’d been good,” he continued, voice lowering, “you wouldn’t have played around like that. Good girls don’t whore themselves out to respectable men.”

Your eyes narrowed in defiance as you felt heat start to brew in your stomach.

“Respectable?” You spat, and his grip tightened again, bringing one hand up to trace your jaw, almost pitifully.

“See what I mean? You dig yourself deeper at every turn. Good girls ask nicely, and say please. It didn’t take me long to figure out you had issues with authority. It could’ve been so easy for you, sweetheart. You had plenty of chances. You could’ve asked me very nicely to fuck you, but instead you behaved like a desperate slut for weeks on end. Eventually, I knew there was only one way to shut you up.”

Your ears started to ring and you fought harder to gain composure. He’d never talked to you like this before. And now, all this, all at once, it was almost too much. Goosebumps had long covered your arms and legs, despite the heat inside you burning you up. You were vaguely aware of heat pooling uncomfortably between your legs.

Your breathing was heavy as you stared into him, his hand gripping your chin, and you couldn’t hide it if you tried. He finally backed away, letting you peel yourself from the ottoman. His hungry eyes scanned over you, suit jacket now crumpled at the wrists. You swallowed as you tried to pull yourself together.

“You knew I was watching you. The whole time. Every time. It was… for me.”

He watched you knowingly, raised his eyebrows a little. His lips grew into that smirk, that fucking smirk you knew all too well.

“We were playing the same game, sweetheart. I was just… Better.”

“A little excessive, don’t you think?” Your voice faltered and you cursed how breathy it sounded.

“Oh, on the contrary. It was very entertaining to see you struggle, but I could’ve gone further.” He mused. “I even considered fucking her on your bed.”

Shit.

A thought popped into your head, and a strange smile made its way to your face.

“Aren’t you going to ask me where I got these?” You asked, glancing down.

He frowned for a second; good. You’d thrown him off guard. But he caught up fast.

“The heels? You know, I had her walk right past your door in those so you’d follow her and see just what you were missing?”

If you weren’t so wired with adrenaline, you were pretty sure you’d be tearing up with how desperate you felt. But his words channelled it all into pure anger.

“Fuck you.” You seethed, and he smiled.

“We'll get to that. But go on, I’ll bite. What did you do to her?”

“Let’s just say she deserved much worse than what she got. Maybe you should’ve fucked her on my bed. Would’ve given me a reason to choke the life out of her.”

“You think I’d care?”

“Course not. Knowing you, it’d probably get you off.”

“Which brings us right back to now.” He stared at you, challenging. You laughed again.

“Is this you talking? You’re not very good at it.”

“No, this is me giving you a second chance. The way I see it, you made your move, I made mine. Now, if you’re a good girl, and ask me very nicely to fuck you until that pretty little head of yours gets filled with nothing but empty space, I might consider putting an end to this and giving you what you want. Maybe.” If you thought you’d survive smacking that smug look off his face, you would.

“You want me to ask nicely, Coriolanus?” You closed the gap between the two of you and glanced up at him through your lashes. He looked back at you, and no chill in the world could cool you down from the fire in his eyes.

He stepped away, paced towards the desk chair – the one he’d watched you from last night – then dragged it across the floor, spun it around, and took a seat. Once again, last night felt worlds away now. A lifetime sat between that moment and this one as he made himself comfortable, unbuttoned his collar. As if the room was now a stage, and he was the sole spectator.

“Go on. I’m waiting.”

Cocky bastard.

Another airy laugh escaped you. But you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t exactly where you wanted him. So you played into it.

“You want me to beg you? Say pretty please?” Your voice softened as you slowly stepped towards him, holding his gaze. A passing thought reminded you of your childhood, asking your mother what you’d feel when you first truly fell for someone.

Fireworks. Thousands of them, crackling, hissing, charging the air between the two of you into something heavy. Thick clouds of smoke you could almost taste as you stared into darkened eyes. You paused in front of him, fingers playing with the hem of his suit jacket that brushed against your thighs. Caught your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Take it off.” He ordered.

“Gladly.”

You slipped the jacket off your shoulders, and it fell smoothly into a pile on the floor. You kicked off the heels next, landing haphazardly to the side with a thump. His eyes never leaving you, consuming you.

“Like what you see, Snow?”

He took you in, long and hungry and shameless. Like you were simply there for his entertainment, nothing else. You wondered where along the line he’d lost all his inhibitions, at what moment in his very young life he’d decided to simply stop caring. It should scare you, but it just made you burn warmer. Maybe your wires were a little crossed, too, because it didn’t make you feel cheap.

It made you feel powerful.

You knew you looked good, too; you’d made sure of it. But he was looking at you like you were carved out of solid gold. He didn’t answer, because he didn’t need to.

“Think I like you better when you’re not acting like a dumb slut.”

You hummed, determined and unphased, moving in closer until your legs touched his knees. His words shouldn’t turn you on - nor should not knowing exactly how much he meant them – but they did.

“You like me better when I’m begging, then?” You placed your legs either side of his, straddling him, but still standing, and took his hands in yours. You ran one of them across your lips, brazenly taking a digit in your mouth, releasing it with a wet pop, then dropping your head down.

“You want me to be straightforward, Snow? Tell you exactly what I want?” you breathed, your foreheads almost touching, looking down at him from a thrilling vantage point, your hair falling either side of his face. “To beg you to rip this off me?” You guided his hands to your hips, letting them slide over the lacy fabric. “You want me to beg you to kiss every inch of skin you see and make it yours? Beg you to fuck me until I can’t think, and forget my own name?”

You ran his hands down the sides of your legs, then, inch by inch, letting him take a good long look on the way, you finally lowered yourself onto his lap. Your blown-out eyes met again, at the same level this time. You shifted your hips once, feigning getting comfortable, and hid a smile as he let out a strained sound.

You were close enough to feel his breath against yours, fast but steady, controlled. You moved closer, your head dipping cautiously under his chin to kiss his neck. He smelt clean, like fresh laundry and his cologne, and his skin tasted like salt as your tongue traced a line across it. It felt like power, having him like this. Slowly starting to grind your hips as your mouth pressed against his pulse, every shaky breath you elicited from him awakening something new in you.

“Say it, Snow.” You murmured, breath catching. “Tell me you want me to beg you, and be good for you.” Another trail of messy kisses across his jaw, and you finally heard it, ragged and coarse, words shooting through you like knives softened by the heat of his breath on your hair.

“Be a good girl, and fucking beg me.”

You hummed with satisfaction. Moved your lips to his ear, hand cupping the back of his neck, and leaned in close.

“If you wanted me to be good,” you whispered, “then you’ve picked the wrong girl.”

You felt it, his whole body tensing beneath you. But you had it now, the upper hand, and you weren’t giving it away. Your other hand came up to close over his mouth with a warning shake of the head, and you gripped the back of his neck harder with the first. Craned it backwards so he could look at you, a different kind of fire in his eyes. A fire that could burn you far worse than any other. You leaned your weight into him until you were flush, skin pressing into fabric. Tightening your legs around his so he couldn’t kick out. You felt dangerous. You felt alive.

When you spoke, your voice was a vial of vitriol.

“You thought I’d just give into you? Three weeks of torture and you call it even? No fucking way, Snow. You wanted to play? Let’s play.”

You were closer to him now than you’d ever been before, infinitely closer than when you’d held hands in front of an audience, or danced in the middle of a ballroom, or when he’d draw you in for a lingering kiss at the head of a busy table.

You were closer still because of the common denominator: you were alone, your bodies pressed together, soft and firm colliding. And your stomach ached with want, but your rage burned brighter.

When you were sure he wouldn’t move, you readjusted your position on his lap so you were sat on one thigh, your right knee pressed firmly against the chair between his legs. Slowly, you dragged your hips against it, firm muscle between your legs, shameless as you stared him down.

“I’d like to modify the terms of our agreement, as of tonight. Starting with this: I’ve made sure your little whore won’t come running back here. If I so much as hear a whisper of a rumor that you’re fucking someone else, I’m leaving. Don’t think I don’t know how to disappear. I can, and I will.”

He scowled at you, and you’d never felt power like the rush you got from seeing your hand clamped over his mouth. His own hands, now easily able to overpower you and push yours away, instead sat at your hips, digging in so hard you knew there’d be bruises for weeks. As you moved, he started to follow suit, rocking your hips on his thigh faster.

He’s allowing this.

The realisation made you pull your hand from his mouth, and yet he didn’t speak. There was a tightness in his jaw, locked down so hard it must’ve hurt as he watched you move, helped you move. It sent a shock through your core, and you ground down harder.

Who’s on top now?

This was getting to your head.

“President Snow,” you mocked. “What a title. Thinks he can take whatever’s in his sight. Thinks he has the right. Did you think I’d come crawling back to you?” Your voice lowered.

“Did you think I’d get on my knees, like she did?” You glanced down, running your now-free hand over the front of his pants, gentle at first, then pressing in firm, and he hissed.

“Did you really think, after all your little shows, that I’d just submit? Not a chance.” You spat, and his breath turned a little shaky as your hand slid up, then down.

As it evened out, and he reached for composure again, he pulled a countermove. Got in close, with words so sharp, they nearly cut through you.

“Which one was your favorite?”

You pulled your hand away. Your hold on the back of his neck tightened, and in turn, so did his grip on your hips, pulling you down harder as you got closer, panties bunching up as you became desperate.

You shook your head.

“Don’t.”

He smirked.

“I gave you plenty to go off. Tell me, was it when I sat right here while she rode me? Or when I was fucking her mouth and calling your name?”

He pulled your hips in rougher, and you gasped, barely able to think. You were sure if he kept this up, your thighs would chafe. You just couldn’t find it in you to care.

“No, I don’t think so.” He hummed. “I know which one it was. It was the second time, wasn’t it? When I was making her cum all over my tongue, wondering what you tasted like.”

You couldn’t help it – a moan slipped out of your lips. He kept up the pace, rolling your hips faster, flexing his thigh as you started losing your bearings. He laughed at the state of you.

“I knew that one would get to you. Tell me something, princess, how many times did you touch yourself after that night wishing it was me? Or did you lose count?”

You gritted your teeth, fighting the spinning room.

“Cocky much?”

He let out a breathy laugh again, as if he was losing himself as much as you were. Pulling you in harder in response.

“Look at you,” he mused, “riding my thigh like the needy slut you are. Bet you’re close, too, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Fuck.” you panted. “Stop fucking talking, oh my god.”

“You sure about that, sweetheart? You know I can feel how wet it’s making you, right?”

Your head dropped down and you whined. Sure enough, you’d soaked through your panties and dripped an embarrassing wet patch on his dress pants. You cursed under your breath as you slowed down.

“Beg me.” He ordered.

“No.” You gasped as he pulled you back again, faster, hips bucking as your legs started to shake around his.

“Beg me,” he repeated, "or I’ll stop.”

“Fuck, no, don’t fucking stop, I can’t-”

It was so much friction it hurt, but you kept chasing it.

“Yes, you can. You want to cum? Ask nicely, sweetheart. Just ask me.”

The seam of your panties got wetter as you moved, just enough to let the pain melt into pleasure instead as it caught on your clit, and you started to ride out your high. You were right at the edge, he was keeping you there, hair stuck to your face in a hot sweat as you writhed on his lap. So fucking close.

“Fine, shit. Please. Please help me cum, oh my god. Right there, please. Fuck.”

And maybe you were more like him than you thought, because you weren’t ashamed. You rode his thigh like you’d ride him, unabashedly, while he watched you starting to fall apart. He moved faster, pulled your hips hard in as if you were riding him, as if he could feel it, breath running ragged, desperate. It only brought you closer knowing this would be sending him over the edge, holding you so near and yet so awfully far away. The look in his eyes screaming danger, and you let it swallow you whole, squeezing his shoulders like you were scared you’d float away.

"That's it. Knew you'd sound incredible, asking me all pretty like that."

His lips met your neck, teeth grazing your skin and that’s what did it, your legs squeezing his as you shook through your orgasm, crying out, falling to pieces, hearing going fuzzy. The words good girl echoing through your head so distantly, you couldn’t tell if he’d really said them or not.

You sighed, glazed eyes rolling open, coming back to yourself. Your right hand was pressed against his chest, fingers curled into the creased fabric of his shirt. As you looked closer, you noticed it had opened wider, and he was missing a button. Had you done that?

When your eyes finally met Snow’s, you couldn’t look away from them. Beautiful and blue, like an ocean frozen over, staring into yours like you were all he’d ever wanted. You could get high off this feeling, live off it.

“Get on the bed.” He breathed. “Right fucking now.”

But too much of any feeling isn’t good for you.

“No.”

He glowered, face flushing even further, and as he leaned in to make another demand, you quickly stood, trying your hardest not to let your wobbling legs give you away.

“You should understand, Snow. We’re doing things my way now. And I’m going to be doing them as I please, when I please.”

You picked his jacket up from the floor, and slipped back into it, the soft fabric cooling down your burning skin.

“You think you’re funny, sweetheart? Nobody likes a fucking tease.”

You chuckled, doing up a button and brushing your hair out of your face, damp with sweat. You walked to the dresser and took a swig from Snow’s half-empty glass, then turned. He sat there, and it took everything in you not to smirk at the mess you’d made of him. You handed him the glass when you were done drinking and turned away. You felt him stand, but you didn’t acknowledge it, still fiddling with your hair, smoothing it out.

“You said it yourself, Snow. I’m no common whore. If you want me to beg you to fuck me, you’re gonna have to work for it.” You turned, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. His face was unreadable.

“But be a doll, leave your door unlocked.” You added, stepping back. “You never know when I might change my mind.”

“You’re not going to leave. You wouldn’t dare.” He seethed, the rage in his voice only propelling you on.

“Wouldn’t I?” You smiled, giving him a once over. Dropped your eyes down pointedly, first at the ruined leg you’d ridden, then at the uncomfortable-looking tent in his pants. You met his eye again and bit your lip, really laying it on thick. “Good luck with that, sweetheart. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He huffed, incredulous, disbelief painted across his face as you made for the door, swinging it open. You glanced over your shoulder.

“Buckle up, Snow. I’m just getting started.”

You missed the way his shocked face turned almost admiring as he watched you leave, walking barefoot down the hallway, leaving the door wide open.

Checkmate.

a/n: hope it was worth the wait 😌

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[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Old Money, Bratty Honey

pairing: bodyguard!Wonwoo x heiress!reader x bodyguard!Vernon

genre: smut - minors dni.

warnings: car sex (a limo specifically), public sex (the windows are tinted but still), mean dom!wonwoo, switch!vernon, brat!reader, sir kink, edging, hair pulling, blowjobs, facefucking, degradation, masturbation, voyeurism, cum swallowing, reader is rich and spoiled (yk how the rest goes)

requested by @onlymingyus

word count: 1.7k

summary: being born in money gives you the chance to try pretty much everything in the world - that includes fucking your two hot bodyguards in your dad's limousine.

Author's note: hello <3 this fic was requested by beloved mars - the unesco forum pics did a LOT of damage

tagging: @gyuwoncheol @wonwussy bcs they asked to suffer so here we are

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

“Do you remember your speech?”

“Tch, of course I do.” You roll your eyes. “I wrote it myself, remember?”

“I know you did. Just wanted to check whether your brain cells are still active.” Wonwoo smirks.

“Unlucky for you, they are very much intact and in better shape than yours.” You bite back.

“Is there any time of any day where the two of you don’t argue?” Vernon groans from behind you. “Can we just…enjoy the little time we have left until we arrive at the venue?”

“Mmm, of course we can, Nonie.” You turn your attention to your other bodyguard. “He’s never fun, either way. But you are way more fun, right?” You make yourself comfortable in his lap, your manicured hands smoothing over his chest.

“Anything for you, honey. You know me.” Vernon smirks and leans in the crevice of your neck, lips and tongue gliding over your skin.

Wonwoo sighs in defeat and averts his eyes from the unfolding scene, trying to ignore it. 

If it wasn’t for the hefty salary that gets deposited every month in his bank account, he wouldn’t even be here. He would rather be walking at a dingy bar, rather than have to babysit a rich brat like you. 

And the worst thing of all? You’re smart and hot as fuck - to the point where he wants to stuff your mouth full of his dick and make you cry.

You’re aware of how uptight and cold Wonwoo is towards you and you can’t really blame him for his attitude - being head of security under your dad basically requires that attitude. Which makes messing around with him even more fun for you.

Vernon, on the other hand, is your assigned personal bodyguard and would fold in half for you, if you asked him to. One bat of your eyelashes is enough to make him cave to any request of yours, thus giving you the perfect cover for your night escapades.

But of course, he always gets rewarded for his secrecy and faith to you - in the form of letting him fuck you dumb more than often.

This is one of the occasions where you want to mess around with both of them at the same time.

You throw the fabric of your gown backwards to uncover your legs and give yourself enough space to grind your clothed pussy over Vernon’s slacks. 

“Careful with your gown, honey.” He reminds you.

“It’s just fabric, I could have tens of that.” You grin towards him.

“How rich and bratty, coming from you.” Wonwoo comments with a venomous tone.

“Yeah, that’s because I am rich, bratty, pretty and smart and you want to fuck me so bad.” You reply boldly.

He slides next to Vernon and grips your jaw with his right hand, keeping it steady directly in front of his face.

“You’re right, little bitch. I want to fuck the brat out of you, to the point you’re crying and begging me to stop.” His voice feels deeper and colder than the ocean, his eyes burning holes in your skull through his horn-rimmed glasses.

You almost hate how hot and fuckable Wonwoo looks today - but you’ve always wanted to know what’s hidden under his professional attire.

“I would like to see you try, you fucking nerd. I bet you’re still a virgin-”

He cuts you off by dragging you off Vernon’s lap and pushes you down on your knees, between his thighs.

“Dude, what the hell!” Vernon glares at the older man.

“Shut the fuck up, Vernon. You have gotten plenty of time with her since you got your job. Now sit back and watch.” Wonwoo orders him as he unbuttons his pants and lets his cock spring free.

Your eyes widen at the size and it makes your mouth fill with saliva and your pussy dampens your Victoria’s Secret panties.

“Tell me, Vernon - Does the pretty brat over here like to suck dick?” Wonwoo asks with a dangerous glint in his eyes as he runs his fist over his shaft.

“Y-Yeah, she does.” The younger man stutters.

“Does she swallow?”

“Yes, she does.”

“Yes what, Vernon?”

“Yes s-sir.”

“Hm, at least one of you can behave.” Wonwoo turns his attention to you again.

“Enjoying the power trip, Wonwoo?” You place your hands over his thighs, rubbing them up and down.

“It’s Sir for you, little brat.” He puts his hand behind your neck and brings your face close enough to let his cock slap against your cheek. “Now put your smartass mouth to good use, will you?”

“And what if I don’t want to?” You rile him up even more.

Wonwoo threads his hands in the back of your hair and forcefully slides his cock in your mouth. You gag when the tip hits your throat, but you manage to suppress your reflex with ease.

“Fuck, honey…” Vernon curses under his breath and starts palming himself over his pants.

“No need to be jealous, Vernon - I’m sure you have experienced this already, right?” Wonwoo chuckles as he uses your hair as leverage to fuck your face.

“I could get used to this, Y/N - this cock-stuffed version of yours is quite likable.”

You grunt in response and purposefully drag your teeth over his cock, eliciting a hiss from him. He drags you off his cock and pulls you upwards, forcing your back to arch.

“Do that one more time and your daddy will find out his precious daughter is a fucking slut.” He threatens you.

“You don’t want to do this, Sir.” You slur the title on purpose. “You’ll be at loss in the end, especially after fucking me like you wanted to,” you grip his wrist, “So, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and I’ll let you fuck me stupid. How does that sound?” You grin.

“Little bitch.” Wonwoo scoffs and puts your mouth back on his cock.

“Fuck, Y/N, you look so damn pretty.” Vernon moans on the side, his own pants long unbuttoned, hand stroking his pre-cum coated dick. 

Your eyes flit to the younger man and you send him a wink, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo.

“Eyes on me, brat. And you,” he snaps his head towards Vernon, “You better not fucking cum until I say so.”

“S-Sir, I won’t-”

“Don’t. Fucking. Cum.” He repeats with something akin to a growl.

“Fuck, I won’t!” Vernon whines in defeat, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck, his hand slowing down to keep himself on edge.

You moan around Wonwoo’s cock, nails digging in the fabric of his pants as you hollow your cheeks and do your best to bring him closer to his orgasm.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum- You better swallow every last drop like you do with him, princess.” 

You bat your eyelashes to let him know you’re ready and he presses your head until you’ve taken him till the base. You can feel the saltiness of his cum coursing down your throat. You pin your eyes on Wonwoo and stare at him until you’ve sucked his cock clean, swallowing till the last drop.

He retracts his hand and lets you get off his lap, whispering a few words in your ear, low enough to not be heard by anyone else.

“I don’t mean to interrupt but I really need to fucking cum and I don’t want to bust my nut all over the suit.” Vernon half moans, hand gripping his cock tight.

You move between his legs with a sultry smile and engulf his cock with your mouth. It only takes him a few harsh sucking motions of your lips to make him cum, a string of heavy breaths and moans coming out of his mouth.

You release his shaft with an obscene popping sound, opening your mouth to show him the amount of cum in it. You swallow it in one gulp, licking your lips clean.

“Filthy little slut.” Wonwoo clicks his tongue as he tucks himself back in.

“Couldn’t agree more.” Vernon clears his throat and tidies himself as well.

“That was definitely fun,” you sit back on the leather seats and open your purse to take out a pack of wet wipes and clean your hands. A small hair brush follows right after and you fix your hair, as if they were never touched in the first place.

“How is your makeup still intact?” Vernon asks you with narrowed eyes.

“Ever heard of waterproof makeup?” You side eye him.

“As long as Daddy is paying, everything must be on point for his pretty little heiress.” Wonwoo comments. “We’re here, be ready.”

“No need to remind me of my job, Wonwoo.”

As soon as he opens the door of the limousine to help you out, you’re welcomed with countless flashing cameras and microphones shoved in your way, but Vernon rushes next to your side to keep them at a safe distance. 

You put on your finest smile for the cameras, knowing which way to turn your head so the gossip magazines will have only your best shots. 

The noises of the crowd are drowned out once the three of you enter the venue of the gala and your bodyguards double check that everything is okay and you can proceed.

“How ironic to see the two of you being so professional while you were cumming like highschool boys just a few minutes ago.” You giggle.

“How ironic to see you acting like a proper lady after sucking off your security entourage in your daddy’s limousine like a cheap whore.” Wonwoo smirks and you fight back the urge to hit his head with your purse, as you walk over to the table with your assigned seat.

“You didn’t have to be so sassy about it.” Vernon covers his mouth to hide his grin.

“And you should have been more discreet with your visits in her room.” Wonwoo almost snaps at him with a stern look on his face.

“You’re not actually gonna snitch, are you?” The younger man looks at him partially horrified.

Wonwoo’s lips curl in a dirty smirk and he leans into Vernon’s ear.

“As long as you’re willing to stand guard in front of her door all night long while I’m teaching the little brat some manners, then your dirty secret is safe with me.”

Vernon pokes his cheek with his tongue, wishing he was able to shove his fist in Wonwoo’s face.

“So? Are you willing to do that, Chwe?”

“.....Yes sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

[froggibus]

Sex Rocks! - AMAB! Venture

Pairing: AMAB! Sloan Cameron x fem! Reader (reader uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Sloan is in for much more than they bargained for when they find a statue with magical properties—and you might be the only one who can help them out

CW: porn with plot, AMAB! Venture, sex pollen (but it’s a magical sex statue), dubcon, masturbation, showering, dirty thoughts (abt reader), slight voyeurism, blowjob, hair pulling, face fucking, cum swallowing, cock riding, mating press, multiple orgasms, protected AND unprotected sex, doggy style, multiple rounds, overstim, lots of cum, (think that's everything) use of the word shaft (im so sorry i hate this word but there’s only so many synonyms for dick)

yes the title is a pun ^.^ i meant to post this way earlier in the day but i got distracted and didn't end up finishing til tonight and it came out WAY LONGER than i thought. this is fr the longest smut ive ever written. anyway venture whores hope you all enjoy <3

It must’ve been Sloan’s lucky day. After barely an hour of searching, the glittering artifact they’d been looking for seemed to jump right out. Though the dusty gold colour blended in with the shimmering sand of the cavern, the three pink gems of the small statuette seemed to call to them. 

The figure was cold to the touch and buttery, barely bigger than the size of their hand. It was shaped like a beautiful curvy woman, with full breasts accentuated with the pink stones and a thick tummy—the likeness of some old, forgotten deity that Sloan could never remember the name of. 

They took out a soft piece of cut cloth and wrapped the statue before tucking it in their pack and beginning the short trek to the surface. Sloan buzzed the whole way up, that warm tingling washing over them. The kind they always felt when they found a new artifact, or when you laughed at one of their dumb jokes. 

As the surface came into view, the golden sunshine just beginning to dip below the horizon, the warmth grew stronger. It had been a hot day, and it seemed that though the sun was setting, the heat had not yet begun to dissipate. They took a long pause, letting themself rest on the rocks outside of the cave.

Wiping the sweat away from their forehead, they took a big drink from the canteen of water they’d brought along with them. It was a short trek, they weren’t usually this sweaty and parched from something so basic—but with the warmth of the day at its peak, they shrugged it off.

The car they’d taken was only just down the trail, maybe ten minutes away. With one last sip of their cold water, they tucked it into their pack and started the walk back. The sky was turning pink as they set off, but slowly turned to purple and then the rich black of night.

Despite the day’s end, the heat only grew more unbearable with the walk. Their thighs cramped as they made their way down the trail, their heart beginning to race. Whatever, they tried to ignore it and power through to the car.

Sweat coated Sloan’s forehead and chest by the time they made it to their vehicle. Their hair was slicked to the back of their neck, and the t-shirt they’d been wearing was rendered near see-thru. 

“Jeez,” they sighed, tugging off their t-shirt.

They tossed the sweaty fabric into their backseat along with their pack before sliding in the front seat to drive. They kept the AC on full blast the whole trip back home, though it did little to stop the boiling in their blood. 

Sloan was just pulling off the highway when a gasp forced its way out at the sudden tight feeling in their pants. They risked a glance down to their hard cock now straining against the thick fabric of their carharts. They shook it off, turning onto their street and trying to ignore the feeling of the bulge in their pants only growing with each minute.

It was almost painfully hard by the time they made it home. Sloan almost forgot their pack in the back of the car in their race to get inside and free their aching cock from the fabric that confined it. 

A sigh ghosted their lips when their cock sprung free from their boxers and they wrapped their sweaty palm around it. Their core was near sweltering, their cock throbbing in need. 

With a glance at the door to make sure it was locked behind them, Sloan spat in their hand and started to spread it across their aching cock. A shiver crawled its way up their spine, acting as a brief reprieve from the heat that threatened to consume them. They clamped a hand over their mouth and began to slide their hand up their length.

With barely a touch, they were already so sensitive. Pre cum dripped down the tip, pooling across their fingertips and mixing with the saliva already spread over their skin. They squeezed harder, dragging their hand up and down faster. Their muffled moans vibrated against the clammy skin of their palm, their eyes falling shut as their hand fell into a rhythm.

Thoughts of you filled their head. Thoughts of your smile, of your warm skin, of pinning you to the bed and using you however they pleased. Sloan gasped, opening their eyes as they came into their palm.

Fuck. Cum rolled across their fingers, down their still hard cock and collected into the hair at the base of their pubic bone. They smeared the remainder of the cum on their thighs, shaking off the aftershocks of their orgasm and deciding a cold shower would solve both the mess they made, and the throb between their legs.

With their clean hand, they dragged their backpack with them all the way to their bedroom, tossing it in the corner before grabbing a towel and heading into the bathroom. They didn’t wait for the water to warm before stripping and stepping beneath the brisk stream.

The cool water settled the burning beneath their skin—but only just barely. Much to Sloan’s dismay, it also did nothing to soothe the ache between their legs. It was almost embarrassing, having an unrelenting boner for no reason like they were in school again.

They sighed, squeezing some coconut scented body wash into their hand and slicking across their cock. They didn’t bother to change the water back to warm, instead opting to let the frigid stream drip down their back. The nice smelling soap felt much, much better than their own spit—but they could imagine a few things that would feel even better.

Like your pretty lips wrapped around their tip, those kind eyes of yours pleading at them to cum in your mouth and—Sloan moaned, fingers clenching around their hard length. Just the thought of you touching them, or them touching you, was enough to have Sloan gasping and furiously jerking their cock.

Drops of soap flew away from their palm with every stroke, splattering the tile of the shower in front of them. God, wouldn’t they love to do that to you. What they wouldn’t give to do that to you. To have you lay down in front of them, completely at their mercy while they fucked you relentlessly and left you covered in their cum.

Their cock twitched, and then they were cumming. Wave after wave of hot cum burst out, coating the tile in front of them before being washed away by the water. Hard, shaking breaths wracked their chest as their senses returned to them and they could once again feel the cool water against their tanned skin. 

As they looked at the cum mixing with the water down the drain, all they could think was ‘what a waste.’

It only took ten minutes after their shower for the tingling in their cock to become unbearable again. The heat had returned almost immediately—and with a vengeance—but they’d managed to ignore the tenderness between their legs for only ten minutes.

Sloan was glad they didn’t bother putting their clothes back on as they settled into their bed and grasped their shaft once more. Cumming once or twice a day was normal for them, but this was something else entirely. Something had to be wrong.

Sloan pushed away their fears and started once again stroking their dick, leftover water and precum acting as a lubricant for their hand to easily slide around. They closed their eyes, and let themself think of you once more. 

How their cum would look running down your thighs, or splattered on your back. How nice your hands would feel gripping their cock, how you’d just beg them to fuck you.

Sweat dripped down their chest, wetting their tummy and the dark hair at the base of their cock. How long had they been jerking off this time? They risked a teary eyed glance at the screen of their phone—had it really been almost twenty minutes since they laid down in bed?

Twenty minutes and they were no closer to coming, but their dick was growing uncomfortably hard. A sigh passed through their lips. Their hand wasn’t enough, they needed something more, something hotter. 

Their mind went to you, pleasure hazed thoughts wondering if they called you, would you come? Would you help them? Before they could think it through, their fingers were dancing across the screen. Just the sight of the tiny contact picture of you at the top of their screen had them squeezing tighter, thick drips of pre cum rolling down their tip.

Sloan lets themself fall back into bed, their mind dancing away to thoughts of you sinking down on their cock. They roll their head to the side, their eyes catching sight of the bag they’d carelessly tossed in the corner just before their shower. 

Could the statue have done this? There were myths surrounding it, sure, but this? The thought was preposterous a week ago. Now though, with their insatiable lust, the thought doesn’t seem so crazy to Sloan.

Shit. They shouldn’t drag you into this. If it really is the statue, they don’t want to expose you to this. They reach for their phone to ask you not to come, to send you away, but just as their palm reaches the cold metal, the front door clicks open.

“Sloan?” You call, peaking your head in the front door. As soon as you’d gotten their message, you’d left your house. You’re talking more to yourself than them at this point, tiptoeing through the dark of their home. “I used the spare key you gave me to get in…are you here?”

Sloan bit their lip at the sound of your voice, risking a glance to the bag that contained the statue. Maybe inviting you here wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

“In here!” they call. Their voice is raspy, dripping with the need radiating from their core.

You follow the sound of their voice to the closed door of their bedroom, warm light leaking out from the cracks. It’s Sloan, and they don’t sound like they’re in danger, but something about their voice…

You push open the door. It takes two seconds for you to scan the room, two seconds for your eyes to fall on Sloan—sweaty, writhing and desperately jerking their cock in bed—and two seconds for you to turn away, covering your eyes.

“Shit,” you gasp. “I–I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”

But it’s strange. They called you here to help them, they knew you were going to come into their room—was this what they needed your help with? You couldn’t help but clench your legs at the thought, a heat rushing to your core.

Sloan’s voice cut through the darkness of your hand. “I-it’s okay,” they say. “You can look.”

You slowly peel your hand away from your eyes. Though they covered themself with a blanket, you could still see the glistening skin of their chest, and the up-down motion of their hand beneath the fabric. 

Sloan knows it’s shameless of them to keep stroking their cock while talking to you, while you’re right there watching—but they can’t stop. Now that you’re here in front of them, the pressure’s increased tenfold.

You squint. “What’s going on?”

“I found that statue.” They keep jerking off.

“And?”

“The rumors about it were true.”

“Fuck,” you curse. 

When they’d been telling you about the myths behind the statue, you’d both laughed it off, stealing wanton glances at each other as you did. They’d assured you it wasn’t possible, that there was no scientific reason a statue would bear unto its users an insatiable appetite for sex.

Seeing them now, though, all sweaty and desperate, has you thinking they were wrong. 

“Sloan,” you say calmly, stepping in the room and gently shutting the door behind you, “what can I do to help?”

They bite your lip, and it’s just now that you notice their eyes are almost completely black in lust. A shiver runs up your spine. 

They pull back the blanket. “Touch me,” they swallow. “Please.”

You glance at their thick, throbbing cock dripping in precum. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, wrapped up in the worst possible way. It wouldn’t be right—they’re clearly not thinking straight. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sloan’s not sure whether it’s the statue, or their frustration, or some terrible combination of the two that prompts them to say, “oh don’t tell me you haven’t been wanting me to fuck you for months.”

Their brazenness sends another wave of heat to your core, your underwear suddenly feeling wetter than usual. “Sloan,” you say carefully.

“If you’re worried about consent,” they rasp. “I want it. All the time. For months, too. I think about it nonstop.”

Their words ease your nerves, and you find yourself approaching their bedside. Your eyes stayed glued to their cock and the hand furiously stroking it. “What do you think about?”

They watch you, dedicating each pump of their length to you. “I think about you while I fuck myself. I think about—about fucking you, and having you bounce on my cock and—god.”

You sink down on the bed next to them, wrapping your hand around the one rubbing their dick. “Let me.”

They slide their hand away, letting you take over. Already, your hand feels a million times better than theirs ever did, the ache in their core finally beginning to relent. They lay their head back, watching your hand glide across their sticky skin.

They suck in a breath. “Fuck,” they look at you through their lashes. “Use your mouth.”

You’re taken aback by their command. Their cock looks so inviting, dripping wet and throbbing in your palm. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever had which only makes you want it more.

You look them in the eyes while you lick a bead of precum away from the tip. Sloan shivers, wrapping a hand in your hair and pulling you down. You gasp as you take their cock into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it. It’s salty, a mix of sweat and precum, with a strange undertone of coconut—but it’s just how you imagined it.

Your jaw strains to take them into your mouth, their tip hitting the back of your throat after only a few seconds. You gag slightly, but Sloan only pushes your hand down further, groaning at the warmth of your mouth. This was exactly what they needed.

As soon as you start to see black spots, they pull you off. A strand of drool connects your lips to their length, dripping and coating your chin. They hum at the sight of you, so filthy already.

“Do you like how it tastes?”

You’re so flustered, so bewildered by the situation that you can only nod, clenching the base of their cock. You put your lips back on their tip and eagerly slide down for more. Their calloused fingers still tug at your hair, using the strands like reins to push and pull you how they see fit.

Sloan watches you intently the whole time, admiring the spit that coats your mouth and the way your throat bulges when they pull you a certain way. They’ve dreamt about fucking you for months now, but none of their wildest dreams could ever compare to this.

Despite the way your eyes water, Sloan pulls you down further. You look so fucking cute choking on their thick cock—they can’t help it. When you finally slap a hand against their thigh, they let go of your head and watch you gasp for air.

“Get on your knees,” they command.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice with the way your throat burns. The dominance in them only makes you wetter, a noticeable throbbing rushing through your clit. You’re all too eager to settle on your knees at their bedside.

They cup your chin, swiping their thumb across your lips to smear your drool and their pre across them. “So cute,” they murmur.

You lean back in to take their cock once more, but they tsk at you. Just as you tilt your head in confusion, you watch as Sloan grips their cock and rubs the messy, wet tip across your mouth. They smear it all across your face, making a mess all over your cheeks and nose.

A whine slips from your lips before you can stop it, but Sloan only laughs at it and finally lets their cock slap against your mouth. You open wide and take them once more, rolling your tongue over their length.

“So eager,” they tease, their fingers resuming their position in your hair, “if I’d known you’d be such a slut for me, I would’ve fucked you months ago.”

Sloan watches the shame glimmer in your eyes, followed by pure pleasure, and doesn’t miss the way you rock your hips against the floor. 

It only takes a few minutes of you on your knees before they’re coming, pushing your head down so you have no choice but to swallow their cum. Your eyes shoot wide as the hot cum spills in your mouth, pulling back from their cock and opening your mouth so they can see it.

“Good girl,” they purr. “Now swallow.”

You nod and obey without a second thought, licking their cock a few more times after to clean up the excess. “Sloan,” you say quietly, your voice raspy from the way they just fucked your throat.

“Hm?”

“Do you have condoms?”

They tap the nightstand that you’re sitting next to. “You wanna fuck me?”

You pass them the condom, eagerly waiting as they lay back in bed and roll it over their cock. Though they’re slow to put it on, you don’t miss the way their hands shake in anticipation.

Sloan watches you the whole time as you strip, discarding your clothes as quickly as you can. You climb onto the bed and straddle their waist, a knee on either side of their hips. Their hands clench your waist tightly, fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise. 

Usually Sloan would be happy to let you adjust, but with the warmth of your pussy right there, they can’t wait any longer. Using your hips as leverage, they thrust up into you, the tip of their cock bottoming out against your cervix.

You cry out, burying your head against their sticky chest. “Sloan,” you whine.

“Sorry,” they pant, but continue thrusting into you.

You relax into them, slamming your hips into theirs to meet their rhythm. It’s painful at first, both the stretch of their cock and how deep it reaches—but it’s amazing, too.

Sloan barely thinks as they pound in and out of you, using your own body weight as leverage to get their cock deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your whines are like music to their ears, complemented by the rhythm of matching groans they loose every time their cock brushes your cervix.

You cum so hard you swear you go blind for a second. Everything is hot, your vision goes white, and all you can focus on is the way your cunt is gushing around their cock, juices coating their thighs. You go limp on their chest for a minute, letting them fuck you like a toy while you recover.

Sloan’s own orgasm isn’t far behind, their cock twitching as they spill into the condom—though they’d much rather spill into you. They almost draw blood with how tightly their nails dig into your sides, and the only word they seem to remember is your name.

Even though they’re unbearably hot and their cock is so sensitive it hurts, they still need more. 

“Can I keep going? Tell me I can keep going.”

You’re exhausted from the brutal pace they’ve set, but their cock fills you so well and they sound so desperate, you have no choice but to say yes. Upon your agreement, Sloan is flipping you onto the mattress beneath them and bending your legs to your chest. 

They can get deeper like this, and Sloan knows it too. They start their pace off slower this time, trying to give you time to recover before their own need takes over. They hold your hands, pinning them above your head while they fuck you.

Their eyes lock with yours as they increase the pace, the tip of their cock hitting that spot inside of you perfectly every time. There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, but it only makes them harder. 

“Too deep,” you whine, squeezing their hands with as much strength as you can muster.

“You don’t love having me fill you up?” They mumble into your ear, “if I can’t stuff you with my cum, I’ll fill you with my cock.”

You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, their dirty words sending you over the edge. You try to clench your knees together but Sloan’s body is in the way. They fuck you through your orgasm, squeezing your hands back with every bit of pressure you squeeze theirs with.

“That’s it,” though their words are soft, they punctuate each one with a thrust, “cum on my cock.”

They slide their hands down your body, resting on your hips once more. Their thrusts start to get sloppy, and you know they can’t last much longer like this. You reach up, desperate for something—anything—to ground yourself, your fingers coming in contact with their hair.

Sloan whines and cums in one sloppy motion, resting their head on your neck while they lazily thrust through their high. Soft groans and whines vibrate against your collarbone.

It takes a minute for them to collect their strength again, pulling their cock out of you. You look at them through tear blurred vision, eyes widening at the cum soaked condom dripping into the wild tangle of hair at the base of their length. There’s a ring of white around their cock from it all, and the only thought crossing your mind is how badly you want to lick it off.

Sloan can’t decide whether to admire the sheer amount of cum filling the condom, or be disappointed that they weren’t able to fuck it into you instead. They pull it off of their cock and toss it onto the floor—it’ll be a pain to clean later, but they don’t care. They reach into their nightstand for another one, but your hand wraps around their wrist first.

“You’re still hard?”

As if in reply, their cock twitches against your leg. Though the searing heat has finally begun to fade, the pure need coursing through their veins has not.

“You’re done already?” They counter.

“N-no,” you say quickly, though your pussy feels unbearably sensitive in the cold room. “But you don’t need to use that.”

They look down at the purple wrapper in their hand, then back up at you. Their eyes practically glitter in anticipation. “Raw?”

You nod shyly, reaching out your arms to beckon them back to you. You’ll never be able to match their insatiable pace—you know that—but you told them you’d help, even if it means letting them use you like a fleshlight.

They plant a kiss to the base of your throat, a devilish twinkle in the dark of their eyes. “Roll onto your knees.”

With their help, you roll onto your stomach and pull your knees up, arching your back to give them access to your dripping cunt. Too tired to keep your chest up, you rest your cheek against the single pillow in their bed and let yourself relax.

Sloan’s hands retrace the marks they left on your lips earlier, positioning you perfectly to line up with their cock. They land a harsh slap to your cunt with the head of their cock and slip it in all at once, relishing in the gasp that leaves your lips.

They rock their hips into yours, reaching up to tangle a hand in your hair. With one hand gripping your hips and another in your hair, they piston into you. You bite your lip to try and cover the onslaught of moans they fuck out of you and pray that Sloan doesn’t have neighbors—although at this point, they’ve probably heard enough.

“Feels even better raw,” they groan, balls slapping against your clit with a particularly brutal thrust. “S’like it was made for me.”

The burning in the pit of your stomach grows at their dirty words, your pussy utterly gushing around their length. Without the condom, you can feel the desperate throbbing of their cock, feel every twitch of their tip when they bottom out inside of you. They reach everywhere inside you, rubbing places you didn’t even know you had.

Waves of pleasure roll over you, each more intense after the last. Your pussy flutters around Sloan’s cock, but their pace doesn’t slow. They keep slamming into you, lewd slapping noises loud enough to cover your desperate moans. They tug your hair hard, pulling you closer, and roll their hips against yours.

Their cockhead brushes your cervix and your eyes roll back in the sharp pleasure that travels through your pussy. Drool leaks from the side of your mouth and your moans transform from fully formed words to stupid sounding babbles.

Sloan releases your hair from their grip and moves their hand to massage your ass. “Sounds so cute when you whine,” they coo breathily.

Your senses all come flooding back to you when you feel the first spurt of their hot cum inside of you. Your tummy flutters with butterflies, your pussy contracts, and you cum with them. Both of you writhe in bed against each other, Sloan’s desperate, near primal pants like music to your ears.

“Fuck,” you groan as you collapse into the bed.

They keep their cock inside of you, shallowly thrusting their cum back in. “Please don’t stop,” they whine. “Please, I-I need more. Please.”

Your whole body burns, your pussy is so sensitive you’re not sure you’d even be able to cum again. “Sloan,” you sigh, looking back at them. 

“Please. Please let me keep using you. Please. You don’t even have to do anything but please let me use this pussy,” they pinch your clit in emphasis. “Please.”

“Well, with begging like that,” you joke.

Sloan wastes no time slamming their cock back inside of you, and though you can hardly feel the harsh slapping motion, you can tell their pace has slowed. You lay there, sweaty and hot and with their cum dripping out and being fucked back in.

Sloan murmurs praises to you while they thrust, their mind half gone from how fucking horny they are. They can see cum dripping down your pussy, down your thighs and it’s so filthy and it’s so hot and all they want is more. They pound into you, chasing that final high they may or may not get, desperately gripping your sensitive skin until there’s marks.

Finally, they cum again, their hot cum gushing until you’re so full it starts to burst from the seams between your pussy and their cock. Sloan watches it leak out in a trance, as if in disbelief that not only did they fuck you, they also just fucked you raw.

The heat has completely faded from their body, and as they pull out from your cunt and watch the cum drip, their cock finally starts to soften. “Are you okay?”

You manage a weak thumbs up from where you lay in the bed.

Just as they go to put on their pants, their cock twitches again, and the heat comes rushing back. Sloan sighs, looking at you guiltily, “think you can do a round 2?”

overwatch masterlist | masterlist

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[pedropascallme]

Stars Above

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!Reader

Summary: "Perhaps sensing your discomfort, he smiled, and the thin remnants of his lips cracked open to display yellow teeth. 'You ain’t never seen a ghoul before, vaultie?'"

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) canon typical violence and lots of it, threatening language, angst, description of a panic attack, descriptions of cannibalism and dead bodies, age gap obviously (Cooper is canon 200+ years old; reader is written as early 20s), guided masturbation (f receiving), themes of voyeurism/exhibitionism, a ton of dirty talk, very mild degradation, phonetic spelling of Cooper's accent because I can, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: part 2 here!!

You had miscalculated just about everything about the surface.

You’d underestimated the ability people had to be cold and calculating in their cruelty. You’d underestimated the difficulty of navigating the endless Wasteland. You’d underestimated the effects radiation might have on you, leaving you fatigued and nauseous despite the Rad-X you’d been sure to pack away safely in your satchel.

Maybe you should’ve read the warning label.

What was worse, you thought, was how badly you had overestimated yourself. You were so certain you would be able to make a name for yourself—make a name for those you would meet; find kindness in the sand and friends in low places.

But you were just a small drop in the bucket, and nobody wanted a name. They wanted to survive in silence and safety.

You were out of rations, and nearly out of water. You’d sweat gallons through your vault suit, making the fabric itchy as it clung to your skin, and causing you to shiver sporadically as the setting sun invited a chill over the landscape. You dragged your feet over the sand, leaving a path behind you, and part of you wondered if you should just drop dead right there. The sand was soft, warm, and maybe dying on your own accord would be more comfortable than dying by the hand of someone who would kill you simply for the sheer rush of spilling blood.

You stopped moving, slumping down to the ground and coughing. There was a deep ache in your lungs, and heaving up dry air did little to quell the overall discomfort.

You wove your hands through the sand, letting it fall through your fingers.

Could you just go home? Had you ever really had a home?

You pushed down a wave of nausea, swallowing the bile that pushed up against your throat, Tumbledown buildings crumbled around you, and for once in your life you felt truly small. Once, when you were young, you had been sent to your room, and in a moment of frustrated panic you’d felt as though the walls were caving in on you. You’d stood on your bed, pushing up on tiny tiptoes, pressing your hands to the ceiling, refusing to let the walls squeeze you into a cube of yourself.

You smiled at the memory. You wished now more than ever that you could stand on your toes and push against the sky.

You heard something echo in the distance, and, flinching, squinted up into the horizon. Metal rooves reflected against the fading burden of the sun; another echo sounded, something like spurs on scrap, and you sighed, heart heavy in your chest.

Maybe this town would be the one to offer solace.

You stood on tired legs, making haste in the direction of the noise.

~~~

The tinny sounds had ceased long before you walked through the broken arch announcing the town. It was desolate, as if everybody had vacated the area before you’d made contact. Part of you took it personally, and you pouted rather childishly.

In the dimly lit dusk, you roamed the empty paths under flickering lights, stepping over caps and carts that had been turned over. When you came across a body, it became apparent that the clamor you had followed was the result of a gunfight.

You stepped over the body, too.

You had never stared at death before making your way to the surface, and it had come as a shock to you that it didn’t bother you more. Blood wasn’t as bright as it was in the movies, nor did killers give any heated last words before pulling the trigger. Any executions you had seen thus far were dull and hurried. You thought back to an old movie you watched once, one that ended with a cowboy executing a rowdy criminal, and you wondered if anybody bothered to monologue their slaughters the way he had.

You’d long forgotten the title of the film and the name of the actor, but you remembered finding him handsome.

You stooped on bent knees to pick up a piece of fruit that had fallen from one of the overturned carts. You sat there, gnawing at it, feeling the sour bites you took fall into your empty stomach. You made it to the core, tossing it over your shoulder and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. But you paused, remnants of the bitter juice still on your lips when your head shot up to analyze your surroundings.

Someone was watching you.

The sound of footsteps approaching were made all the more unsettling when paired with a boisterous, ugly laugh. Still on your knees, you squared your shoulders, looking up to meet the eyes of a man in bloodied garb and a gun on his hand.

“Saw you eating that,” his teeth were sharp, and his voice high, “Not good to litter, vaultie.” He stopped in front of you, hands on his hips as he scrutinized you. “Why don’t you go crawl over and pick that up.”

You didn’t move. He put his hands on his knees to lean over you, fumbling with his revolver.

“No,” you tried to sound confident, though your voice was quiet and didn’t carry far, “I don’t want to. Thank you.”

He howled, and it made you wince. “Thank you, now that’s sweet,” his gun came up to poke under your chin, “Thank you…I wasn’t asking, girl.”

You tried to find your voice again, but the barrel of the gun was pressed into your neck, and you knew he would seize on any reason to pull the trigger. You inhaled through your nose, trying to buy yourself some time.

A shadow came up behind you, wrapping you in darkness as something approached soundlessly. The man in front of you faltered, and you watched as the confidence drained from his eyes.

“Ain’t that sweet…” A drawling voice, almost saccharine, came from the source of the shadow, and you knew then that it was someone. “Find y'self a toy there, Otis?”

The man—Otis, maybe—who had previously seemed so cocky with his demands, retreated into himself slightly, straightening back up to his full height to meet the eyes of whoever stood behind you.

“You’re not welcome here, Ghoul,” he scowled, “Finders keepers.”

“Well, now, I don’ think y’really in any position to give orders.” It was only now you that wondered whether you were being fought over not out of any sympathetic, weeping heart on behalf of the person behind you, or whether this was a battle for who got to see your blood flow.

“Yeah?” Otis chuckled, “Why’s that?”

You saw the man behind you gesture with his gun in your peripheral. “You got a hole in yo’ neck.”

You watched Otis squint in confusion in the split second before a shot whirred above your head and hit him clean through the throat. He crumpled to the ground, gagging on death, before he let out a damning noise and ceased all movement.

You took deep, shaky breaths, finding the courage to stand up, to turn around and get a good look at your savior.

When you did finally came face level with the man called ‘Ghoul,’ you felt that your initial instinct in referring to a thing behind you had been more apt after all.

His skin was reddened and chapped, marred with scars that covered his face and ran down his neck. He was hairless, as far as you could tell, and his eyes were sunken deep below the ridge where his eyebrows should’ve been. He was decked out in a cowboy costume, long duster to match his Stetson, gun strapped to his hip that paired nicely with his ammo belt.

He had no nose.

Perhaps sensing your discomfort, he smiled, and the thin remnants of his lips cracked open to display yellow teeth. “You ain’t never seen a ghoul before, vaultie?”

You continued to scan his face, and after a few fleeting moments you met his eyes; you couldn’t tell what color they were, if they were hazel or brown or maybe just yellow, muted by the evening, and the shadow cast over his face by the brim of his hat.

No matter the color, you thought they were pretty all the same.

You hesitated, shaking your head.

“Well, ain’t you lucky. Now yo’meetin’ The Ghoul.” His eyes widened, menacing but amused, and you took a step back, nearly stumbling on Otis’s lifeless feet.

“Th—um. Thank you,” you ignored his grandiose introduction, “For…” You gestured behind you.

The Ghoul tipped his hat forward, “Not a problem.” He took a step back, mirroring your movements, “C’mon now. S’dark.”

You made a face, “Oh—no, I…Thank you, for, you know, for helping me out, but I don’t—I’m not really looking for—”

He whistled, and the shrill cut you off, “You really don’know a question if it hit ya in the ribs, sweetheart.” He smirked, “I wasn’t askin’.”

“But I don’t,” you started, watching as he unraveled a rope from his side and tied a knot into it, “I would rather not go with you. I’m—you caught me at a bad time, really, I’m usually just fine by myself.”

“Well…” He tightened the knot, “you keep tellin’ yourself that while we walk.” He swung the rope over his head, and you realized too late that he had been tying a lasso. It came down around your midriff, trapping your hands at your sides when he pulled.

“Hey!” You tried to fight, moving your elbows beneath the constraint and burning your skin in the process.

The Ghoul circled you, stooping down to pick up the gun that had fallen off of Otis’s person, before his face came to peek over your shoulder, cheek to cheek with you. “Hi, there.” He smirked, tugging your restrictions.

~~~

You were used to endless roaming by now. It’s all there was to do; outrun the danger before it could find you, then do the same again when faced with a new conundrum. But the Ghoul walked fast, long strides made tuneful with the help of the spurs on his boots. There was a nice consistency, the metal almost sounded like a lilting voice, though you wished it was less frantic.

You had lost feeling in your fingers, unable to grip your belongings properly, and in a kind gesture that you hadn’t expected from him, the Ghoul hoisted your bag onto his shoulder. You were stiff and sore, and maybe the rope was keeping blood from rushing to your brain, because you couldn’t stop staring at him from behind, watching the way his gloved hand pressed into the bag—your bag—on his hip.

“Where are we going?” You piped up, breaking the silence you’d been stewing in for the past hour. You got no response, so you pushed on. “Where are you taking me?” He didn’t break his stride, pulling you along like the lost puppy you were. You pulled your body against the strain of the rope, digging your heels into the ground and stopping in your tracks. “And what’s a ghoul?”

You watched his shoulders slump as he, too, came to a halt. He let out a sigh, turning around to face you. “Nowhere,” he counted on his fingers as he began to answer your questions in order, “Wherever I go. Me.”

You shifted awkwardly on your feet. “So…you’re the only one?”

“Never said that.” He turned his back to you again. “Y’see that clearin’ there,” he pointed into the distance at a group of rocks sunken into the sand. “That’s your bed t’night.” He started walking again, and you followed suit.

The night cast long shadows over the expansive nothingness, and the air made you shiver. The wind pushed at your hair, which in turn clung to your temples with the excess sweat of the day.

“You aren’t the only one, then,” you kept talking, “Are you—is it the radiation? Or are you a…a people?”

He let out a short chuckle. “The only people left. Far’s I’m concerned.” He skirted around your question, leading you around the rocks and finding a comfortable spot that left you hidden in the darkness. He dropped the rope, tossing your bag to the side as he did so, and you grumbled about how he shouldn’t be so careless with things that weren’t his own. He ignored you, walking over with an expressionless face and deftly tugging the knot from the rope. It fell in a heap around your ankles, and you let out a thankful, happy noise. He tossed a glance your way, eyeing you almost curiously, before beginning to make a small fire at the center of your open-air hideout.

You fell to the ground, exhausted, and addled by the events of the past few hours. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back. The rock behind you may well have been a pillow, the ache in your bones finding comfort in even the most unyielding of resting places.

You opened your eyes tentatively, reluctant to see any more of the Wasteland that you had so callously thought would welcome you with open arms. When you finally blinked up, the blackness of the night blanketed you, and with it, there were stars.

Not stars like the ones on a TV screen. Not stars like the ones behind your eyes after staring into your lamp for too long. Not stars like the ones you drew on your ceiling as a child. Not stars like the ones projected in the common area during a dinner you were told was meant to authentically replicate a Fourth of July celebration.

Real stars.

Gaseous beings that reflected against the sand, lightyears away but close enough to touch, if you could just reach out and grab one; cradle it in your cupped hands and let the fire permeate your palms.

Treat it like a child. Treat it beautifully.

“What’re you lookin’ at,” the Ghoul’s rasp broke you from your existential musings.

You looked forward, finding his sunken eyes across the light of the fire that paled in comparison to the light above you. “If you…if you wanted to kill me, I’m ready now.”

You watched weathered skin stretch taut across his yellowed teeth. You knew it was, perhaps, a bit inappropriate, but for a moment you couldn’t ignore the way the word ‘beautiful’ bounced around your head when you looked at him.

“Not gonna kill ya,” he poked at the fire with a stick, “No good t’me dead.”

“Well then, what?” You lost your filter, uncaring. There were stars in the sky, there was air on your skin, and you didn’t care if you died in the middle of the barren land your ancestors would have once called home. “What good am I to you alive?” You let a laugh out, thin and strained, “Are you just keeping me around so I—so I don’t get lonely?”

He tossed the stick to the side, and the sand caught it with a pathetic thump. “How long you been in them vaults?” He leaned forward.

You made a face, searching for a tone in his gaze. “My whole life,” you scoffed. He knew that.

“’N how long you been up here for?”

You looked away, embarrassed, and tried to hide how you attempted to count the days on your fingers. “I…don’t know…” You gave up.

“You don’ know,” he stared into the fire, “Don’t know shit about lonely.” There was a beat of silence, and the whisper of the wind filled the gap in conversation. He straightened out, meeting your eyes again and smirking as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just been thrown back to a time when he would’ve come home to a freshly cooked meal and his daughter on his hip and his dog circling his feet. “Plus,” he rustled a hand in his pocket, pulling out an inhaler and taking a puff, “You’ll make good bait.”

“Good bait?” You interrogated him.

“Ya noticed how bad news seems t’follow you round here?” He stretched his arms behind his head, and you felt a sudden heat on your cheeks that you chalked up to sunburn. “Pretty thing like you pro’ly has a whole army o’folks after her. ‘N I’m guessing them folks ain’t the kind you’d like t’hang around.”

“Like you?” You raised a brow, throwing his words back at him.

“You’d like that,” he huffed. “Darlin’, I’m playin’ the oldest game there is: set a trap ‘n the critters will fall into’t.”

You mulled over what he’d said, narrowing your eyes and looking at your hands as you came to your conclusion. “You’re talking about—you’re a bounty hunter…” You looked back up at him, and he was grinning. “And you’re talking about using me as a decoy!” Your posture straightened, and you stared daggers into him.

“Guilty as charged,” he tilted his head at you.

“You can’t do that—I’m not just going to let you do that.” You fumed.

“Don’t have to,” he shrugged, jutting out his lower lip, “Can leave right now, ‘f’ya want.” His features morphed into a grim smirk, “But I don’t think a li’l vaultie like you knows a goddamn thing 'bout what’s waitin’ round the corner.”

You swallowed, trying to form a biting response, but he continued.

“But, hell, f’you wanna risk it…” he put the inhaler back into one of his pockets, “Be my guest, vaultie. Free t’go.”

You huffed, and he smiled. He was right, and you both knew it; left to your own devices, you'd be dead in that town he found you in. You settled into your fate.

“Don’t call me vaultie.” You muttered, tired of the way the seemingly derogatory title had been hurled at you since you first emerged from the safety of your life underground.

“Gonna have to tell me y’name, then,” he tilted his head, waiting. You told him your name, and he laughed. “Look’it that. Friends already.”

“You’re not my friend,” you didn’t know where the venom was coming from; somewhere between him helping you out and him sitting in front of you now, you’d decided he was attractive, charismatic, maybe not the worst company you could be stuck with. But after learning what your new role was, you felt more than a little cheated.

“Damn right I’m not.” He whistled, and you turned away from him, curling into a ball on the ground.

“’M going to sleep,” you grumbled. “Wake me up if you decide to go fishing,” you raised your head for a moment, “You’ll need your lure.”

That got you a real laugh, the first genuine sound you'd heard from him.

And you liked it, despite the ire you felt towards him now. 

~~~

You woke up under the blazing sun with sand in your hair. You blinked hard, trying to remember where you were, how you got there, and what had happened to your bag.

Your questions were answered when a shadow engulfed you from above, and you looked up to face the Ghoul.

He had his hat off, letting you gather more evidence to support your belief that he was completely hairless. He stayed quiet, looming over you and watching you groan under the misfortune of wakefulness.

You grunted at him, pushing yourself up to stand, shaking the sand from your body as you did. “You didn’t wake me up last night.”

“You complainin’?” He knit his naked brow.

“No…just, I figured you might want me to keep watch,” you dug sand from your ear, “You trying to tell me that you’re fine just going without sleep?”

“Succeedin’, by the sound of it,” he smirked, and you pursed your lips. “You can stay up as late as ya want next time, darlin’. Don’ let me stop ya.”

“I won’t.” You snatched your bag from his hand and turned to find a way out of the maze of rocks you’d slept in.

He grinned. “Lead on, then.”

And you did, spending several days on a loop; walk, rest, walk, sleep, wake up, pick a direction, repeat. He shared rations and water, he let you sleep when he could’ve forced you to take watch, but he was quiet. It was as if he was so used to life as a predator that he couldn’t even toy with the idea of letting his guard down when there was nobody but you around for miles upon miles. And it wasn't as if you were any threat to him.

It drove you crazy. The benefit that came with having someone like him, skilled and sharp, was greatly dampened by the lack of any real socialization.

You were grateful, at the very least, that it had only taken him a night to decide you no longer needed to be constrained; you liked being able to carry your own things, and, even more, being able to use your own hands. Your arms still felt raw, fading rope burn wounds licking shallowly at your skin under your sleeves, but at least you were free to stretch them now.

The Ghoul stayed several steps behind you when you walked, always keeping his distance but watching closely as you struggled to pretend to know where you were going.

Now, you wiped sweat from your forehead, stopping momentarily to let a cool breeze whip at your face.

“Hell are you doin’ now?” The Ghoul’s dry voice was carried to you by the wind. It was the first thing he’d said to you, unprompted, in two days.

“Feels good,” you sighed, turning to him with your eyes closed and holding your arms out beside you, “The wind. It’s nice.”

“Won’t be in a second.” You opened your eyes to green clouds in the distance behind him. “Because that,” he motioned back at the clouds with his head, “s’a radstorm. And you,” he tipped his hat at you, grazing the brim with his fingers, “Ain’t gonna do too well out in it.”

As if on cue, a bolt of lightning shot down, followed by a loud clap, emphasizing the Ghoul’s words.

“Better have some Rad-X in that bag, sweetheart,” his lips were parted, and you noticed that, although his teeth were yellowed by years of chewing on god knows what, they were remarkably straight. “Oughta get ya under cover.”

You’d heard about radstorms, and assumed, in your naivete, that you’d be able to make it through one without any problems. But the speed at which the disagreeably green clouds approached, and the tone of voice used by your companion, made you feel as though this, too, was something you’d been wrong about.

Maybe you went pale, looking as nauseous as you felt, but then there was a guiding hand on your waist. You jumped, unprepared for any contact and ready to gripe about it, before following the man’s gaze beyond a small sand hill.

“C’mon,” his eyes stayed trained on a ramshackle house just a short distance away, “Can wait it out.”

You nodded, falling over your own feet when he began walking at a brisk pace. The hand he’d placed on the small of your back worked as leverage to get you to hurry up and match his stride.

You closed the door just as the wind started to pick up.

“Woo,” the Ghoul raised his arms above his head, stretching. “S’a nice place we got here.”

You looked around the building; some remaining wallpaper clung to the walls for dear life, there was a couch that looked to be more sand than cushion, and a single table, overturned, in the corner.

“Is it?” You questioned.

“Ya wanna go check outside, see f’ya prefer that?” He challenged, and you backed down, scowling at him.

“How long will the storm last?” You trailed your eyes over the cabin, trying to see if there was anything worth looking at.

There wasn’t.

“An hour,” the Ghoul situated himself on the sofa, “A day. Maybe two.” He took off his hat, fanning himself with it.

“So…we’re stuck here?” You finally let your eyes wander over to him, finding yourself oddly enamored by the way his high, hollow cheekbones framed his face.

“You got somewhere you wanna be?” He stretched his arms over the back of the couch, leaning back and spreading his legs. You blamed the pulse that went through you on radiation, turning away to rummage through your pack for Rad-X.

“Just not much to do.” You swallowed the pill, kicking at a pile of sand that had found its way onto the wooden floor.

“Welcome to the surface, darlin’,” he gestured vaguely, and you rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile that etched itself onto your lips.

“Doesn’t help that you don’t talk.” You tried to fill the silence that you knew was imminent.

“Talkin’ now,” he shot back, moving his hips from the couch to get properly settled, and you knew you couldn’t blame radiation for the way you squeezed your thighs together.

“Yeah, but,” you acquiesced to your urge to join him on the old sofa, “I’ve known you for less than a week, and even I can tell it’s a rarity.”

“Maybe I just don’t like you,” he smirked, putting his hat back on, and you frowned at him.

“Then you wouldn’t be keeping me around for company.”

“Bait,” he corrected you.

“Call it what you want,” you let your head fall back onto the couch, “Still choosing to keep me around.” You waited anxiously to see if he would point out that it was you who had taken the opportunity to stick with him, after his vague threat of what loomed in the wastes made you back down from your plan to run that first night.

You closed your eyes, listening to the storm batter the house outside. He took the moment to look at you, analyzing your features. He took in the positive glow that reflected off of you, yet to be rubbed off by the experiences you were sure to have.

Maybe he’d be able to buy you some time. Maybe that glow wouldn’t fade.

“Sure,” he nodded, “Whatever y’wanna tell yourself.”

You nudged his knee with yours. It was an adolescent approach, something you would’ve done during classes; playing footsie with the boy you thought was cute, with his hair slicked back and his vault suit pressed and tidy. Something done for attention, in the hopes that maybe he’d take even the smallest of hints and return the childish gesture of affection.

The Ghoul was not pressed and tidy. But, and you were slowly admitting it to yourself, he was cute.

You couldn’t see yourself ever admitting it to him.

“You never answered my question yesterday,” you realized now was as good a time as any to quiz him, stuck with you while the storm raged. “What’s a ghoul?”

“Yes, I did,” he had let his eyes close, too, “I am.”

“That’s not a good answer.” You tsked, “I wanna know—I want the real answer,” you moved to sit on your knees, “Give me the real answer.”

He opened his eyes, scanning you up and down. “Yer damn good bait, sweetheart,” he nodded, giving in and facing you. You thought maybe he was paying you a compliment, but you swallowed the urge to ask him what he meant. “I don’t know what to tell ya other than I am a ghoul.”

“Why?” You pressed.

“Why’d’ya think?” He countered, “Case you didn’t notice, we ain’t in one o’your underground lairs. Radiation’s gonna get us all, and when it does,” he leaned forward, “Y’gonna look just like me.”

You swallowed, unsure if this was a threat or a warning. You looked down at his gloved hands, then back up at him. “Does it hurt?”

His expression was blank. You continued.

“Your—is it your skin?” You tried to clarify, “Does it hurt?”

His expression gradually changed to one of confusion as he processed your words; nobody had ever asked him something as simple as that. “Don’t hurt. f’I get shot…stings for a sec, but…y’get used to it.”

“So, you can’t really feel it?”

“Oh,” he let out a low chuckle, “I can feel it. Where it counts.”

You stuck out your tongue, and heat crept over the back of your neck. “Don’t be crude.”

“Ain’t try’na be,” he smiled, “You’re the one whose mind’s wanderin’.”

“So it just feels like skin?” You changed the subject, “Or is it more like muscle…or scar tissue?” Without thinking, you raised your hand and extended it forward, curiosity getting the best of you. He caught your wrist in his hand, the leather on his fingers pressing softly into your bone. You gasped, and he looked at you, cautious, fingers shifting on your skin. As if in slow motion, he raised your hand to his face, and you stretched out two fingers to ever so gently graze down his cheek.

His breath caught in his throat, startled by the intimacy of having someone touch him just to touch him. To feel him.

Similarly, you’d stopped breathing all together.

His skin was ridged and rough, but the small grooves between the scarred flesh were smooth, almost downy. You didn’t look him in the eyes, though you could sense his as they bore into you. You chose to examine the rest of his face instead, the bumps and scars and jagged edges that your hand ghosted over. Finally, you gave in, looking into his eyes for only a brief moment.

He had eyelashes. Small lashes, barely noticeable beneath his hat and the sunken hollows of his eyes, but they were definitely there. He looked pretty, this small part of him capturing some kind of hidden essence of humanity underneath his daunting character. The tiny detail had caught you off guard more than the act of being allowed to touch him had, and your fingers faltered, stuttering against his skin.

You let your hand go limp in his grip, and he let you retract it.

“So?” He questioned after a beat.

“What?”

“What’d’t feel like?”

“Oh,” you remembered what had led you to the opportunity to touch him in the first place, “Scar tissue.” You landed on, easier to say that than trying to explain that you thought his skin was as comfortable as velvet to drag your fingers across.

He lifted a brow, nodding in approval.

“How come you don’t have a nose?” More questions bubbled from your throat before you could stop them, eager to force the tension in the atmosphere to dissipate.

“God almighty, y’ask a lot of fuckin’ questions,” he wiped a hand down his face, “Decades of radiation ain’t forgivin’ on cartilage.”

“Decades?” You narrowed your eyes playfully.

“Don’t you go askin’ more, now,” he chided, “Ain’t polite to ask someone their age, they not teach you that down there?”

You dropped it for now. “You still have ears. Those are cartilage.”

“Not part of the original model.” He smirked, and when he saw you tilt your head, confused, he took a deep breath and continued, “Sometimes, darlin’, ya gotta use what ya find.”

Your eyes went wide, “They’re—you stole body parts?” Your eyes narrowed again, “You’re lying.”

He didn’t answer verbally, just shot a devious smile your way.

“How come I can’t see your brain?” You bounced to your next question.

“Would ya like to?” He shot back, and you cringed. “Didn’t think so.”

“But how come—”

“Jesus Christ,” he dipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out his inhaler and taking two short puffs, “Can I get a word in, here?”

You let your next question die in your mouth, shelving it for later. You nodded.

“Why’d you come up here?” The Ghoul’s voice took a softer edge, and you couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or if he had some genuine interest in your case.

Either way, you thought it was improper, and you shook your head, barely enough for it to be noticeable. You’d been trying to ask the obvious questions, things you were certain he was asked all the time, that he’d have answers for at the ready. You hadn’t asked about his life, how he got out here or why he dressed like a goddamn gunslinger. You could’ve, but you were trying to be at least a little bit polite.

“That’s not fair.” You said simply.

“Alright, how come you got a nose,” he smirked, letting his words hang in the air before they dropped at his feet when he saw the way your demeanor had changed on a dime. “Now, look—I didn’t mean to make y'upset, sweetheart—”

“I, uh…” You took a long breath, gearing up for the challenge of communicating a logical answer. “…Do you ever sit somewhere so nice for so long, and then after a while you start thinking that it’s too good to be true?” You looked up at him, and the tears in your eyes were evident, “Like, maybe you sat on something, or the whole time there was a snake in the grass right next to you...or something?”

The Ghoul watched your face intently, hardly nodding.

“And even though the snake didn’t lunge at you, or, you know, you got to enjoy the peace and quiet before getting up and noticing you sat on something, it’s like, you’re flooded with these what ifs about what would’ve happened if you’d been sitting just a second longer…” You were looking at him, but you weren’t, really; your eyes went right through him, and you pictured a time when you thought nothing could ever go wrong. “Or if you’d never sat there at all.” You blinked, shaking your head, and you wiped a tear that had dared to breach over your lash line. “I had to get up, right? Outfit was stained…and I could see the snake getting ready to…make quick work of me.”

You cradled your chin in your hands, trying to control your breathing so you wouldn’t have to subject yourself to the embarrassment of crying in front of someone that likely wouldn’t care.

Your explanation echoed in the Ghoul’s mind. He thought about his divorce, that dumb fucking suit he’d been conned into wearing without really knowing what it meant.

A snake and a stain. He understood.

“Ain’t no snakes up here,” he tried his hand at reassuring you, “Can’t promise y’won’t get dirty, though.”

“I know,” you sniffed, “Got blood on me already.” You knew it was stupid to complain about, but you didn’t even know whose blood it was.

“There’ll be more,” he sighed, “But you’ll care less.”

You let yourself laugh softly. “Yeah,” you wiped your eyes, “Yeah. I hope you’re right.”

“I tend to be.” He smirked, back to his carefree, cocky demeanor. You rolled your eyes weakly, laughing quietly, and you found yourself leaning against him. His shoulder was stiff beneath your head, like he wasn’t sure how to hold himself in the situation that you’d put him in. You turned your head slightly, nosing his neck, and he didn’t stop you, though he stayed rigid.

You let yourself breathe him in; arid and smoky, the leather of his clothes mingling with the scent of sun that clung to his skin. There was something else, a note of iron buried under the warmer scents, the cold bouquet of dry blood. Having death flood your nose like that, you recognized, probably should’ve been alarming, perhaps even petrifying. But it wasn’t—not on him.

You liked it.

You sat back up, your face close to his, and if he had a nose, you were sure it would be touching your own. He didn’t look upset as his eyes darted over your face, which felt reassuring, even though you already knew you hadn’t really done anything wrong.

“Y’hear that?” He muttered.

“What?” You turned your head, trying to listen for whatever he was hearing.

“Storm stopped,” he cracked a small smile at you, and you breathed a sigh of relief. He stood up, making his way over the floor. “C’mon, darlin’,” he gestured to the door, “See if we can catch ourselves a rainbow.”

You let out a real, honest to god laugh. It gave you a hint of whiplash, how the Ghoul had managed to save your life, make you hate him, and then make you want to kiss him in such rapid succession over the course of only a few days.

You found yourself suddenly aloof to the idea that he was threatening to use you as a lure for unsuspecting bounties. He was keeping you around, keeping you safe, and you liked him just fine.

Maybe even a little more than that.

~~~

How far, at this point, had you walked? Miles of ground in front of you, miles of ground behind you. It felt like you’d gone nowhere, despite the thousands of steps you’d taken over the course of the week. You were going nowhere, you reminded yourself; aimlessly trekking across the Wasteland and finding what there was to find, looking at what there was to look at.

The Ghoul didn’t seem to have a job at the moment. He’d made it clear that he was employed—if you could call being a bounty hunter a regular nine-to-five—but he hadn’t made any moves to imply that he was searching for anybody, or anything, unless you were to count the vials and chems he ransacked from every hole and hovel he came across.

He continued to surprise and delight, and occasionally disgust, you. You’d seen him eat the raw flesh of dead and desiccated creatures—some that looked human—off the sand. (“Remember what I said, ‘bout usin’ whatcha find?” “That’s disgusting, you don’t know what kind of germs could be crawling around there.” “Think someone that looks like me’s worried ‘bout germs, sweetheart?”) You’d seen him draw a weapon faster than you could take a breath; you’d seen him kill a man without blinking.

But you were wowed by him all the same, the rasp of his voice and the way he whistled through his teeth, the life behind his eyes that teemed with stories of a past you hadn’t been able to shake out of him yet. You hadn’t touched him, had barely closed the often yard-wide gap between the two of you that had become the unspoken norm, since the day the radstorm hit.

Maybe it was for the best. What would your family say about him? They'd be disgusted, horrified by the mere thought of him.

That just made you want him more.

“Can we stop soon?” You withdrew yourself from your thoughts, tired of the way your muscles tensed with every step. The Ghoul didn’t respond, side-eyeing you from beneath his hat. “I’m tired. My legs hurt.” He smirked, and you thought you heard him huff a laugh, but the distance between you was too vast to pick up on the smaller sounds. “Don’t laugh at me, I can’t help you if I can’t move.”

That got his attention. “Y'think you’re helpin’ me?” He smiled. 

“Not burdening you…” You argued about what he’d left unsaid.

“Not doin’ much work, either.” He grunted, and you shot him a dirty look. “Keep on walkin’, darlin’.”

“I don’t want to.” You stomped your foot, regressing into the same shielded, spoiled vault-dweller you knew he thought you were.

“Then how ya gonna get over there’?” He nodded forward, and you followed the direction of his gesture, squinting to see a large, semi-burnt down storefront. “C’mon, sweetheart.” He kept walking, picking up his pace and forcing you to speed up after him. “Y’wanna break, or what?”

The building was in alright condition, as far as the other spaces you’d seen; the windows were broken, the glass finding its way to the ground and becoming sand after what must have been centuries of effort. Someone had started a fire, and ash flaked off the brick. You forced yourself on tired limbs to close the distance between yourself and shelter.

“Go on,” the Ghoul leaned against the doorframe of the store’s entrance, “Check it out.”

“You’re not coming?” You whispered. You knew he wasn’t. This, too, had become common: you were sent in—bait—and he followed behind you at a distance to keep an eye out on who- or whatever might jump out.

He stayed quiet, showing his teeth, and you pouted at him, making your way deeper into the old store.

There was no electricity, but the sun seeped through the cracks in the walls as it began to dip in the sky, creating an almost cozy ambiance. It was huge, the ceilings were high and the store itself must have once housed a near infinite amount of material goods.

You’d be lucky now if you could find a corner that hadn’t already been raided.

Everything was bathed in grays and blues, and you couldn’t tell if it was just the way your eyes adjusted to the dim light, or if the building had been standing for so long that the color had drained out into the desert. Either way, it was eerie, and your finger trembled on the trigger of the rusted pistol the Ghoul had given you as a means of self-preservation. You didn’t really know how to use it, but it was the principle of the thing, you figured.

You maneuvered your way around spent bullet casings and glass, trying to stay silent despite the echo of your footsteps. You heard spurs behind you, the Ghoul following your trail at a safe distance. There was a clamoring, something further into the building down a dark hall that sounded like machinery groaning. You jumped, and the gun in your hand slipped from your grip, sliding across the floor with a harsh skid.

You froze, wincing, and listening for any sign that you’d been heard. The sound of the Ghoul’s steps behind you had also stopped, and you knew then that you’d fucked up—if he was listening, waiting the way you were, then there was cause for alarm. With your heart beating in your ears, you bent forward, fingers creeping across the floor until you managed to get a grip on the tarnished metal of the gun. Standing with a sigh, you worked on regulating your breathing, trying to ease the way your heart beat in your ears.

And then you heard the snap of glass shattering, the rhythm of voices without any real words besides grunts and snarls. You jumped, and your back hit a wall with an unceremonious thump before you fell to your knees.

The sources of the noise approached, surrounding you and leaving you with no route out. You looked straight ahead at withered limbs, clothing torn around ankles and skin peeling off of bone.

And when you looked up, it was him.

Except it wasn’t, not really; the Ghoul was only one man, and before you stood four. All similarly scarred, with broken teeth and missing noses, but there was no individuality—no light in their eyes to tip you off as to who they may have been, once upon a time. The sounds they made were inhuman, screeches that seemed torn from their lungs, maybe due to pain, maybe due to joy, you couldn’t tell. And as they circled you, you didn’t want to find out.

You fumbled with your pistol, unsure of whether the safety was on or off. Your aim was unsteady, and the darting movements of the figures that crowded you made it even more difficult to find a proper target. You winced, aiming at a leg and pulling the trigger.

There was a bang, but it didn’t come from your weapon.

“Gotta do all th’fuckin’ work,” you heard the Ghoul, snide and confident even despite the gravity of the situation. He shot to kill, quick to find weakness, and chuckling when they fell in heaps atop their own feet.

You watched him kick at a corpse. The noise subsided as he holstered his weapon, but you had covered your ears and were unwilling to remove your hands.

“Hell was that?” The Ghoul was standing in front of you now, his voice muffled through your palms. You stared past him at the bodies on the ground, at one point daring to let your eyes dart from the deceased to the man who killed them and back; the similarities were glaring, and it made bile rise to the back of your mouth, fighting your throat’s constriction as you choked down tears.

And suddenly you were sobbing, pulse beating hard against your skin and sweat collecting on your back. You felt sick, you felt scared—maybe even betrayed. You were panicking, unable to breathe or speak or think, only aware of the fact that you were utterly terrified.

“Well, now—hey,” You’d uncovered your ears, wrapping your arms around your knees and squeezing them to your chest, letting the Ghoul’s voice travel to you with more ease.

“Y—” you felt like you were hyperventilating, “You.” Trying to voice your concerns proved difficult in this state.

The Ghoul watched on, the muscle in his jaw tightening as he debated what to do.

He didn’t like you like this. He liked you feisty and stubborn, chatty and glowing. In the dark light of the building, splattered with feral blood and choking on your own breath, you were far from what he’d gotten used to. It startled him a little, not the image of you crying—he’d seen you cry before, and he'd seen far worse from others—but the knowledge that, to an extent, it was his fault.

And he could blame his response on the part of him that still felt shame, something that morphed into a nagging urge to defend himself against accusations of being a downright monster. But he knew, deep down somewhere, that it was because of the part of him that still felt compassion; empathy, even fondness, for you.

That’s why he sat next to you, sliding his back down against the wall while you spluttered and coughed through tears.

He eased the old pistol away from you, pushing it into a crack in the wall and cursing himself for letting you have it in the first place. You’d be better off without it; he’d do all he could to keep you protected.

“Not me, darlin’,” he kept his voice low, “Ferals. Of which I am not one…” Yet, he could’ve mentioned, but even he could choose denial.

“They look—had your face.” You heaved, rocking back slightly.

“You really think I’m that ugly?” He laughed, but you remained despondent, painted with a thousand-yard stare. He took on a different approach. “Listen, now. C’mon, sweetheart, look.” He draped a hand over your shoulder, and despite the loose, open-ended nature of the touch, you felt significantly more grounded. “’Member how I said this face’ll be everybody’s someday?”

You nodded, remembering his jab at your question during the radstorm. Your heartbeat wailed against your skull.

“’N then, someday…” He hadn’t experienced difficulty in picking his word choice like this since trying to answer Janey’s question about where babies came from. “Someday it all turns to shit. You turn into a—a nameless drop in the bucket.” He said, frankly. “But it’s, uh…it’s preventable, to an extent.”

“You don’t have a name.” You stared at him, skin blotchy and eyes swollen. It broke his heart a little. “You already don’t have a name.”

“Happens to the best ‘f us.” He tamped down the stutter in his chest, finding a way to circumvent your unspoken question. "All ghouls, eventually...go a little feral."

“All ghouls turn feral…” You repeated the moral of his story, and he nodded.

He fished a vial from him pocket, holding it out to you. “Long as I got these, I’ll be jus’ peachy.”

You let him drop the vial in your hand, looking at the off-color liquid inside of it and squeezing it in your palm. “I don’t want…” You let go of the glass, holding it back out to him. “I don’t want it to happen to you.”

“Makes two of us,” he put the vial back into his pocket, sighing. “But I got plenty o’these, ‘n there’s always more t'be found.”

You stayed quiet, letting your limbs finally relax and spreading your legs out in front of you. There was a long pause that you spent calming your heart rate, letting your lungs relax.

“I like you the way you are.” You whispered, and it was those words that finally made him own his feelings; the way you are. Not the way you were, not who you could’ve been or who you were meant to be. You appreciated him as he was, and it was the first time in more than two centuries that he had felt any sense of warmth from another living thing. It was the first time in just as long that he’d felt like a man and not a monstrosity.

It was why he didn’t fight it when you wrapped yourself around him, arms tugging him down into a tight hug. He scoffed at the display of what he assumed—hoped—was affection, but he let his arms circle your body.

Your face pressed into his neck, firmer than the brief moment you’d shared on the couch, and you breathed him in now just as you had then; the heat and the tin of his skin, the leather of his duster, and the iron of his ammo belt that dug into your front. He was softer now, malleable to your touch, unlike the stiff, unmoving man he’d been when you leaned up against him all those weeks ago.

He rested his chin on the crown of your head, taking a long, deep breath. “’N I like you much more when you ain’t blubberin’ like a goddamn newborn.”

You giggled, knowing that it was the closest he'd get to telling you that he cared, even a little bit.

“The stars,” you mumbled against him, and he pulled back, trying to look down at your face.

“What’s’at?”

“That first night, outside. You asked me what I was looking at,” you explained, “And I told you that you could kill me if you wanted, instead of just answering you. But I was looking at the stars…” You sighed, settling back against the wall.

He scoffed. “Jus’ stars.”

“No.” You argued, “Not just stars. They’re everything.” You tilted your head at him, and he accepted with a shrug.

He let his head loll back, removing his hat and scanning the surroundings. He caught a glimpse of something in his peripheral, a wide crack in the upper part of the wall that let the night seep in. He elbowed you, nodding his chin in the direction of the hole that opened the building to the sky.

“Look‘t that.” He smiled at the way you lit up next to him, and he followed your gaze to appreciate the view in silence with you.

Comfortable next to him, centimeters replacing the usual feet between you, you saw life in the stars the same way you saw life behind his eyes. And he didn’t understand your excitement, until he looked hard enough and saw the same shimmer in the sky that he saw in you.

“Cooper.” He mumbled, still looking at the stars. You turned to him, lips parted in preparation to ask what he was talking about. “My name. I got one—Cooper.”

You smiled, an inexplicable sense of tranquility washing over you as the new knowledge settled in your brain. “Cooper.” You said, testing the weight of the letters on your tongue.

“Don’t go usin’ it up. Make me regret tellin’ ya,” he smirked, trying to hide his satisfaction upon hearing you say his name behind a veneer of callousness. “Got a reputation t’keep.”

You breathed deep, not quite a yawn but more than a sigh. “I know, Cooper.” You rested your head on his shoulder, not to test the waters or attempt a romantic gesture; it was just pleasant to experience something quiet, personal, like this. “I know.”

~~~

“Christ, you sleep like a fuckin’ rock.” His voice was the first thing you registered when you opened your bleary eyes. Your neck was stiff, your cheeks felt crusty with the residue of dry tears, and the floor was crooked. You’d fallen asleep on him, perched just under his shoulder, and he’d let you. “Snore, too.”

“Yeah, well,” you sat up, rolling your neck and wincing at the cracks that sounded from your joints as you stretched, “Sleep comes easy when I have my guard dog watching out for me.”

He scoffed, a small smile forming on his lips. “Don’ expect me to bark for ya, sweetheart.”

“All you do is bark.” You rolled your eyes, beginning to find the motivation to stand.

“S’not true,” there was a glint in his eye that you couldn’t read into fully, “Could bite ‘f’I wanted.”

You’d seen him land a shot without so much as glancing at his target. He was telling the truth.

You sighed, finally standing. You folded yourself over your front, touching your toes and trying to loosen the knots in your back. “Well, Coop,” you straightened, “Can I call you Coop?” You second guessed your courage, unsure of whether or not he’d take kindly to you shortening the name he’d only just entrusted you with.

“You my fuckin’ publicist?” He quirked a brow up at you, recalling the dozens of conversations he’d had that had begun just like this.

“I should be,” you straightened out, rolling your shoulders and shooting him a grin. “You could use one.”

He scowled at you. “Y’gotta question or what?”

“What now?” You shook out your limbs lazily.

“What now?” He echoed your words. He stayed on the floor, legs in front of him crossed at his ankles. “What’ya mean, darlin’?”

You didn’t really know what you meant; usually it was him calling the shots, but he seemed to be waiting for some kind of prompt. “You know, I mean…what should we…do…today?” You spoke slowly.

“Today?” He laughed, “Today…sweetheart, today’s come ‘n gone.”

You knit your brow, confused, and he pointed in the direction of the crack in the ceiling. It was still dark—dark again if you understood him correctly.

“You let me sleep all day?” The notion made you feel a bit frantic for some reason, having grown accustomed to sleeping for barely four hours at a time over the past few weeks. His constant need of movement made it hard to rest easy.

“You needed it,” he shrugged, picking at a spot on his duster.

And you had needed it, but the idea that he had let you doze for what was, as far as you could tell, close to a full twenty-four hours was more than a little puzzling; that he had let you sleep on him for the duration is what really threw you for a loop. Maybe the fact that you knew him by name made him nervous. Maybe it made him nervous enough to let you make decisions for the both of you now, for fear of the fallout.

Or, and much less likely, you thought, but much more appealing: maybe he just wanted to let you rest. Because you needed it. And he didn’t mind acting as a placeholder for a pillow.

The butterflies in your stomach made haste upwards in your body and settled in your heart.

“I did.” You deflated a little. Regardless of any reason behind why this had happened, you still felt guilty about making him lose the span of an entire day that could have been spent wandering in whatever direction called to him. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Ain’t got a reason to be.”

“I made you—”

“Didn’t make me do a goddamn thing, sweetheart.” He ground his teeth together, jaw swaying back and forth.

“We could be somewhere else by now.” You tried to argue, squaring your shoulders.

“Got nowhere to be.”

His words were spoken with a sense of finality, and you knew when to back down.

“I been thinkin’,” he piped up again when you got quiet. He finally made the move to stand; he winced as he bent his knees, his body having grown accustomed to staying in the same position for so long.

“About?” You watched him stretch.

“You still wanna wear that?” He waved his chin at your figure, forcing you to examine the tattered sleeves of your vault suit that were caked in dirt and debris—and more than likely a few pints of blood from various donors. “Just—seems like more of a hindrance than anything.”

“It’s fine.” You sneered at him, unsure of why you decided to get defensive. It was a creature comfort, of sorts, and while it certainly got the wrong kind of attention out in the open, getting rid of it felt like stripping yourself of the only identity you’d ever really had.

And he knew that, which is why he had voiced his thought. Not only was it something people would use—and they had used it—against you, but it was obstructing your ability to move on completely. He felt a sense of responsibility in ensuring that you managed to maintain a level of dignity in your soul searching.

“It’s hangin’ off o'you in shreds.” He continued, and you shifted on your feet. You couldn’t deny that any emotional connection to your outfit was outweighed by discomfort of the holes and tears it had collected. You bit your cheek, looking down at the floor and back at him in silent acknowledgement of his point. “Y’gotta change o’clothes in that bag?” He grinned, and you frowned.

“No...” There was no use now in coming up with any snark retorts. He licked his top teeth, staring at you “So, what?��� You tried to find his point, “You want me to strip down and wander around naked?” If he asked you to, it was more than likely that you would obey without a second thought. By now, you knew better than to feel disgust for confessing things of this nature to yourself. But even so, you knew this admission was probably not a good reflection of the unrelentingly self-contained attitude you tried to show him.

Not to mention that nobody had ever so much as seen you without a shirt on, let alone the whole nine yards.

He bit back any response that might expose the interest he had in your suggestion, though he raked his gaze up and down over your body, smirking, before sucking his teeth and shaking his head. “We’re in a fuckin’ store.” His eyes finally met yours, and you stared back at him blankly. “Full ‘f clothes.” He continued, and you understood.

“There’s nothing left,” you spread your arms out for emphasis, gesturing to the run-down remains of gutted shops.

“Ooh, I bet ya there is.” He turned on his heels, taking long strides that had you jogging to catch up with him as he made his way down a corridor and towards a defunct escalator.

The sound of his boots against the tile floor echoed across the building, and even despite your long period of rest, you felt sluggish and unprotected; your back was an easy target, and with every click of his heel you found yourself turning your head, peering back into nothing, just in case.

“Nobody here,” Cooper noticed the constant swivel of your neck, “Relax.”

“How do you know?” You tried to cement your gaze forward.

“Would’a heard.”

“That’s—you can’t expect to hear people coming in this building, it’s huge.”

“Can hear you,” he gave you a pointed look, and you quieted yourself. “Here we go.” He nodded to a heap at the far end of the open space you’d found yourselves in. You squinted at the pile, and you could make out individual shapes and parts.

Bodies. Stacked atop one another as they wasted away into soggy organic matter. You began to make out whole people, some fresh enough that they could still leave an identifiable fingerprint.

“Cooper,” you froze, shoulders rigid and eyes wide in fear and disgust, “I don’t—”

“C’mon now, sweetheart,” he walked right up to the collection of putrefying bodies, bending down to peel a strand of flesh from a bloated arm that flopped out of the mass. “Clothes for you, meal for me.” He smirked, rolling the loose skin in his fingers before putting it in his mouth.

You sucked your lips into your teeth; the primal actions he often displayed made you feel pure in a way you wanted to rinse yourself of, shower in the wild side.

But only if he was the one scrubbing.

You shook your head. “This is the best you could do?”

“Tailor’s outta town,” he sneered, “Could’a just said thank you.”

“I—no, I respect the…attempt…” You dug your toe into the worn floor.

“But…” Cooper tilted his forehead at you, picking skin from his teeth with his tongue.

“But this is gross. Come on, even you know this is gross.”  You crossed your arms, peering up at him beneath knit brows.

“Use what’cha find.” He said simply, reiterating his mantra. You huffed, letting him have the final word.

You rounded the pile of bodies, looking out from behind Cooper as he sorted through the gore to find a suitable mark for his next move. He let out a triumphant noise when he turned over a man who was yet to begin the latter process of autolysis, providing the ability to smoothly undress him.

“This feels wrong.” You grit out when Cooper had removed the corpse’s overshirt. “This goes against—this is unethical.”

“You wanna change o’clothes or not?” Cooper rolled his eyes, and you piped down.

Despite your protests, spoken and cringed, you continued to watch as the body was stripped of its earthly possessions. Shirt, shoes—lucky bastard even had socks. Cooper tossed them all your way, throwing the clothes over his shoulder and at your chest. When he reached to undo the man’s belt, you felt your chest tighten; it wasn’t discomfort, per se, but it wasn’t anything pleasant, either. Something about seeing someone naked for the first time in this context made you feel melancholic. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, both in the sense that you felt that you were invading the privacy of the dead, but also in the more selfish sense that you felt it would be ruining something for you.

You turned around, trying to find something else to stare at instead of following the Ghoul’s hands as they roamed over the corpse for any hidden gems. He didn’t notice your movement, holding the jeans he’d unfastened from the dead man behind his shoulder to pass on to you.

“What the hell’re you doin’?” He turned to face the back of your head after a minute of shaking the denim at you. “Don’ tell me you decided t’get squeamish now, darlin’.”

You turned around to swipe the pants from his hands. “Not squeamish,” you started walking away, scouting out an area that would offer some seclusion, “You’re just being gross.”

“Me?” He feigned shock.

You stopped walking, turning to face him, rolling the skin of your cheeks between your teeth. “Come on…smells bad.”

Cooper waved you off, unsheathing a dagger and butchering a nearly unidentifiable limb off of a corpse. He flopped the meat over his shoulder, putting the dagger back into the sleeve it had been pulled from. After fiddling for a few more moments with the bodies, discovering two more vials of his precious chem in threadbare pockets, he held the carved appendage out to you; he swayed it as if it were part of his own arm, urging you forward. You scoffed, turning to walk away, staying several steps ahead of him.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

~~~

You had to hand it to him, Cooper knew how to scavenge; the clothes he’d taken off the body were only slightly too big on you. It was nothing rolling the cuffs up and tearing off some excess fabric couldn’t fix. You felt less constricted—free to move about without the limitations, both physical and mental, of your ruined vault suit.

“Couple holes.” You ducked out of the old storage room you’d found to change in and made your way back to the Ghoul. He’d started a campfire on the linoleum flooring, and you didn’t question how or why.

“You’ll live.” He tore chunks of flesh from the decomposing arm he’d procured. “Better than what ya had.” You watched as he rotated the meat clumsily over the fire with his hands, barely giving it enough time to rise back to living temperatures before taking it off the flame to gnaw from the bone.

“Yeah,” there was no point in arguing. He was right, and you felt silly for finding issues with what you supposed he might consider a gift.

You sat next to him in silence, knees grazing but not creating any real tension. Something about him was so much more reassuring now, a sort of consolation to being stuck in a world so far from what you’d imagined, than just the mysterious man with no nose or empathy that you’d pegged him for that first day.

Even if he was noseless, you tried not to laugh at your internal monologue, he definitely had more feelings than he let on—he cared and commiserated and let you sleep for way too long.

And you felt safe in a way you’d never felt safe before; far from any made-up threat you’d been taught to watch for in the vault, faced with genuine danger for the first time in your life, you still felt that, somehow, by his side, no harm would come to you.

It was more than a feeling. It was a fact.

You stared, unashamed, as he continued to take bites out of the disembodied arm. Cooper glanced at you from his peripheral and slowed his chewing, daring you to say something.

“What’s it taste like?” You finally gave in.

“We playin’ twenty questions again?” He shot back, swallowing what was in his mouth and throwing what was now mostly bone and muscle to the side.

“Is it like regular meat?” You pushed on, ignoring his quip.

“Y’ever had reindeer?” Cooper leaned back on his hands, and with his face only a few inches from yours, the position felt oddly intimate.

“No…” You tilted your head.

“Gamey,” he explained, “Like beef.” He smiled, “Course the flavor, it varies…person to person.”

“Funny.” You stuck your tongue between your teeth. You still thought it was gross, but you couldn’t deny that he made even cannibalism a light subject.

“Yeah? My turn now.” He sat up, “Why’d you get weird ‘round the bodies back there?”

“I was weird with the bodies?” You tried to play dumb.

“Got all prissy.”

“Did not.”

“Oh, yes y’did.”

“You were being disgusting…”

“When am I not?” He pointed out, grinning, and you conceded with a small smile and a nod of your head. “Cmon sweetheart…did it really bother you to see me doin all’at?” He seemed genuinely puzzled by you in this moment. You looked away, staring at your thumbs as you twiddled them in your lap. He took a chance, gloved fingers coming up to your chin and brushing your skin ever so gently. He refocused your gaze on him. “…Cause I won’t do it no more if it makes y’feel…weird.”

“No. it’s not…” You took a deep breath. Maybe it was stupid to get sensitive about it, maybe it was stupid to feel strange about the situation in the first place. You doubted that anybody in the Wasteland ever thought twice about seeing another person’s body—dead or alive. “I’ve just never seen anybody naked before.”

Cooper’s hand dropped from your face and into his lap. “Y’fuckin serious?” He grinned, “You’re kidding.” He was clearly on the verge of laughter, whether from amusement or shock, you couldn’t tell.

“No, I—look. I know it’s not a big deal, it’s probably not something people even think about up here. But it felt—something about seeing another person naked when they’re not…like, when they’re completely lifeless and unaware, it felt wrong to do that.” He didn’t respond, so you continued, “And honestly, it probably sounds insane, or, at the very least, maybe, a little selfish, but I felt like it was wrong because it would be stripping them of a choice, but it would also be stripping me of any choice. You know? Like, maybe it doesn’t matter to everybody else out here, but I’d like to…I mean, I want it to matter as much as it can, at this rate.” You sucked in a breath, deciding that you were done with your rant.

The Ghoul stared at you, his eyes wide but his bald brow knit in an obvious combination of delight and curiosity.

“You never seen a naked body before?” He tried to make his voice come out evenly, hiding his amusement.

“I…never like…” you failed to think of something that might lessen the blow of your revelation, “Not really, no.”

He let out a whistle, shaking his head. “Hell are y’all doin’ in the vaults if you’re not fuckin’?” It was rhetorical, you knew that, but you still felt defensive.

“There’s plenty to do.” The words came out flat, and you laughed nervously to lighten your tone.

He chuckled. “I bet.” He sucked his teeth, letting his eyes flicker over you again. There was a pregnant pause. Dead air hung between the two of you while you tried to ignore his gaze, opting to pick at a loose thread on your new shirt.

“Plenty to do…” You tried to steer the conversation somewhere—anywhere—that would help ease the tension.

“Yeah,” Cooper let his head loll back, “Let’s hear it, then.”

You scooted back on your hands to give yourself the room to properly face him, situating yourself a foot away to allow for the physical space to think.

“Movies to watch and…chores to do…” You tried to think of anything worthwhile you’d done growing up in the vaults but found yourself coming up dry. “Sometimes there were, you know…events.”

“’N you never found yourself at one o’those events with some arm candy?” He was taunting you, and he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit that he was getting a sort of sadistic thrill out of seeing you squirm under his playful interrogation.

“Slim pickings.” You huffed, staring into the fire.

“I’ll be,” he smirked, “For someone so sure of herself, you ain’t seen nothin’, have ya?” He was thinking out loud, analyzing you to your face.

You felt the need to correct him, both out of self-preservation, but also because, and this was a bigger reason than you cared to own up to, you wanted him to know that you weren’t scared of anything—especially not the thing he was implying.

Maybe you were naïve, but you weren’t stupid.

“Don’t really need another person to have a good time.” You made a point to catch his line of sight, eyes holding his as you tilted your head against your shoulder.

The Ghoul whistled, long and low. “Well, now. Talk about self-sufficient.”

You felt heat rise in your face, dappling your neck with a rosy veil. “I’m not stupid, Cooper. I know what you’re talking about.”

“What am I talkin’ ‘bout, darlin’?” He goaded, fingers toying with a button beneath his collar.

“Just cause I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I’m some sort of—I dunno, some sort of…poor shrinking violet who can’t figure it out,” your heart was in your throat now, afraid to take the conversation too far but so desperate to get a reaction out of him. “I know how to…to, you know…” You let your voice fade, chickening out when he failed to change his facial expression.

There was another long stretch of silence. Cooper let his head fall forward, arms coming to rest, folded, over his stomach, as he anticipated the end of your sentence. When you didn’t come out with it, he prodded you verbally.

“Know how’ta what?” He grinned, yellow teeth on display and tongue darting between them in a movement you were sure he wasn’t even conscious of. He leaned forward further, moving his face towards you without actually budging an inch from his spot on the floor. “You don’t know how to deal with death, how t’use a gun—y’barely even know when you’re too tired to stand…” His tongue pushed through the crack in his top and bottom rows of teeth, wetting his lips. “But ya expect me t’believe that y’know how to make yourself cum?” He let his tongue rest on his bottom lip before closing his mouth, sneering mischievously. There was a bright speck of something in his eyes that seemed to be fighting with the more devious glint brewing in him, and paired with his brazen statement, it tugged at your core.

And despite it all, you felt completely at ease; the sudden suspense and the violent thrum of your heartbeat aside, you were almost entirely calm. You knew you were safe, that the solace he cloaked you with spanned to even the most random and uncertain situations or conversations.

So you continued on.

“Took some trial and error,” you felt nervous laughter bubble up from your throat, “But I got the hang of it.” You smiled, before quirking your brow and addressing yourself more so than him, “I think.”

“You think…” He repeated, eyes narrowing as his gaze turned inquisitive.

“Just, you know…” You squirmed under his gaze now, “Not really a how-to manual on touching yourself…”

He exhaled, laughing through the hole where his nose should’ve been. “Maybe not in the vaults.” He dug in his pockets, unsure if the lightheadedness he was feeling should be blamed on a lack of chem in his system or on the topic of conversation. He took a puff before settling again. “Plenty o’guidance up here.”

“You mean, like…porn?” You smiled, shooting him a knowing look.

“At one point. Not anymore,” he sagged a little, “Lucky if ya find a fuckin’ playboy mag up out here.”

“You seem disappointed by that,” you prodded, teasing.

“That’s cause I am,” he shot back, stretching his shoulders.

“Well, all I’m saying is I know what I’m doing.” You rested your back against the wall, hands clasped in your lap.

“And I’m sayin’ that I sincerely doubt it.” He put the inhaler back into his pocket, deciding it was definitely the conversation that was to blame for the way his head swam.

You let his words hang between the two of you momentarily. Then, on a whim, figuring that you’d had plenty of chances before, and being unwilling to let another one slip away: “I could show you.” You didn’t look up at him, but he stiffened, his eyes unwittingly falling to stare at your hands. “How I…how I touch, I mean.”

You braced yourself for rejection, looking up sheepishly and letting your hands fall to your sides. He was already looking back at you, lips parted and eyes half-lidded—he could say no, and he thought about it for a moment. But, Christ, it had been a long time. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t say no.

Not to you. Not when it came to something like this, a vision, a woman untouched by the grit and grime of the surface, offering up something that now seemed so holy.

He sucked in a breath; he had never been a church goer. He thought maybe now was a good time to make up for all the sins he’d committed—worship at the shrine of you, talk you through your own wrongs and absolve himself of the thoughts he’d been having since he’d first encountered you all those weeks ago.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, sweetheart…go on ahead…”

You exhaled shakily, not even realizing that you’d been holding in a breath. You scrambled to lose the jeans he’d gifted you, eager to expose yourself, immensely grateful for the chance that had dropped in your lap.

“Hold’t,” his voice cut through your motions, and you froze. You’d gone too far, surely. He recognized the error he had made by giving you the go ahead and was now taking it all back. “Y’gonna listen when I say you’re doin’ it wrong?” He sucked on his lips.

“I won’t—I don’t do it wrong.” There was no bite to your argument.

“I asked ya’a question,” he continued, “Y’gonna listen t’me? Gonna fix your mistakes ‘f’I tell ya to?” He bent one knee, resting his hand limply between his legs. “Do what I fuckin’ say to do?”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to hide the impact his words had on you. “Yeah,” you nodded, “Yeah, Coop. I will.”

You thought maybe you heard him growl, but any noise coming from him was muddled by the sound of your zipper finally coming undone.

“Good,” he nodded, “Knew you could be a good girl. Just need’a blow off some steam, huh?”

This time, you couldn’t avoid the soft moan that slipped past your lips. Cooper let out an amused exhale in response, eyes trained on your hips as you wiggled your way out of the pants.  

“Yeah, you like this,” he got comfortable, resting one arm behind his head, only nearly knocking his hat off. “Like gettin’ bossed around more than you let on, darlin’.”

“Shut up,” you tried to keep it together, kicking the jeans off your legs and tossing them to the side. But your words were unconvincing, especially with the way you barely smiled, breath hitching already and eyes wild and blown out. You did like it—but only because he was doing it.

He tsked at your response. “Not very nice. Big talk from someone with no panties on.”

In such a short time span, you’d already forgotten that you’d ridded yourself of your underwear. It was gross, and you’d had no change, and it wasn’t as if you’d be thrilled to peel the undergarments off a corpse. You figured commando was the most obvious way to go.

“That a bad thing?” You goaded him, running a palm down your naked thigh and seeing how long it would take to break his collected demeanor.

“Never said that,” he drawled, following your hand on its path down your leg. “Y’gonna keep puttin’ on a li’l show f’me, or ya gonna do what’cha promised?” He licked his lips.

“You don’t like a little showmanship?” You squeezed your thighs together, not missing how his chest rose.

“With my killin’,” he found your eyes, “Not with my pussy.”

If this was a competition to see who could keep it together the longest, you’d be losing by a landslide.

“Spread those legs f’me, baby.”

And with all the pet names he’d given you in your time with him, something as simple as the word baby falling from his lips and landing on your skin had you flooded with arousal.

You did what you were told, straightening your legs and feeling the tile of the floor cling to your skin as you opened them. The Ghoul’s gaze flickered between your face and your core, both positioned perfectly towards him.

“C’mon,” he nodded, “Show me how good ya make yourself feel.”

You knew what he wanted to see. Even after his claims of disliking the display you were putting on, you could tell that he was just being impatient for show. You wanted to draw this out, watch him come undone in sync with you despite the physical distance.

You let your hand roam over the tops of your thighs, feather soft touches making goosebumps erupt on your skin in anticipation for what was to come.

“How y’feel?” He disrupted the otherwise silent escapade you were undertaking.

 “Soft…” you mumbled, “Warm.” You didn’t know if he was asking about your emotions or for the physical description of what your skin felt like on your fingers, but your mind was blank with adrenaline, so you subconsciously chose to focus on the latter.

He took a deep breath, afraid that if he were to blink, he would miss something. “How ‘bout you drop that hand a li’l lower.”

You sighed as you followed his instruction. The pads of your fingers brushed your clit, and you squeaked out a moan.

How long had it been since you’d gotten any time to enjoy yourself? Certainly longer than the month or so you'd been on the surface; with Cooper, you never had the solitude or time to let yourself unwind, and even before joining him, you were more focused on surviving than you were on unwinding. 

You let your fingers circle your clit, building the pressure with every swipe. The friction made you buck your hips gently, sweat-slick skin sliding on the floor. You could feel the way your cunt began to drip, and you spread your legs wider, wanting to give him a proper view. You looked up at him, your face painted with an underlying uncertainty behind the overarching pleasure.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he reassured you, briefly biting down on his tongue when he saw the way your slit glistened, “Show me.”

You relaxed into your own body; fingers dropping lower to tease your entrance were met with a backing score of delicious wet sounds as you let the pads graze beyond your folds and kiss at your hole. You moved your hand at an angle to allow one finger to push into your cunt down to the first knuckle, but Cooper tsked at you.

“Not yet,” his breath was already becoming labored, “Show that pretty pearl a li’l more love first.”

The timbre of his voice made you shiver despite the heat that engulfed your skin. You nodded, staring up at him for guidance, just as you always did—though this circumstance was far different.

Your fingers came back up to toy with your clit, and you let out a breathy sound. He had been right to tell you to slow down, to continue to enjoy the friction instead of diving straight into the penetration; you felt light and malleable, like your body was taking a natural route towards the apex of pleasure without needing the frantic thrust of your finger.

Another moan slipped past your lips, and the Ghoul groaned in front of you, eyes glued to your center as you massaged gentle shapes onto your clit.

“Knew ya didn’t know what y’were doin’,” he chastised softly, voice uncharacteristically tender given the state of events unfolding. “Impatient thing like you just needs some instruction. S’at right, sweetheart?” He leaned forward, bending a knee, “Needed someone to tell ya how t’do it so it feels real good?”

You bucked against your hand, in the midst of discovering something new about yourself; maybe you did need it—maybe you liked it. It could have been the simple fact that it was him taunting you, telling you what you wanted and how you wanted it, but his words had you keening, and you let go of any remaining inhibition.

“Yeah,” you mewled, “Yes…” Your movements were getting sloppy, fingers frantic against your swelling bud. “Like—like it like this.”

He growled, pushing air through gritted teeth that formed a menacing smile meant only for you. “Slow down there,” he wanted to grab your wrist, to replace your hand with his own, but something about the chaste, urgent nature of how you touched yourself made him all the more eager to watch how your own movements played out. “Don’ gotta rush it, baby.”

You knew you'd been right—he did like a little showmanship.

“But—” You wanted to argue; it felt good, and the thought of stopping made you squirm harder. But with his eyes on you the way they were, and his hat tipping forward to emphasize his demand, you let the response die in your throat, slowing your fingers.

“Atta girl,” he praised, and your smile was paired with a small whine. “You like the way I’m talkin’?” He was playing with you, flirting while making sure the waters were still welcoming.

“I do,” you responded with a whimper, thrilled by the noises you made, having only ever touched yourself in silence for fear of getting caught.

“Good. Cause I’m’a keep goin’,” he leaned back once more, shifting slightly to ease the tightness that had sprung up in his trousers. “Give that pussy what she needs—slow, now.”

You pressed a finger into your hole, watching it soak in the wet that dripped from you. You wanted to go faster, to push it in completely and fuck yourself on it, but you refrained from the urge to do so and went leisurely as instructed.

“Fuck,” you breathed when the webs of your fingers stretched over your lips, as deep as you could get inside yourself. “Been a—it’s been a minute since I’ve done this.”

“Easy, now—s’why I’m goin’ slow.” He spoke as if he was the one touching you, as if his finger was buried within you in place of your own.

“Can I…” You fidgeted around your hand, “What next.”

“So fuckin’ eager t’please,” he chuckled, “Where was’s obedience out there, huh?”

“Had to make you work for it,” you smiled, your words carrying no malice as your hand became more saturated with your juices.

“Curl’at finger up,” he ignored your retort with a blunt demand, “Like yer callin’ me over.”

You did, and the spot your finger grazed made your limbs buzz and your core tighten. Your face must’ve changed to display your sudden pleasure, because Cooper let out a proud grunt.

“Didn’know’at was there, did’ya?”

“No…” You didn’t bother to explore the shameful feeling that nipped at your heels for being so unfamiliar with your own body after talking such a big game, too focused on exploring the tantalizing feeling that traveled through you when you nudged at the spot again. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“I know,” he looked smug, clearly impressed with himself for teaching you something new about your own body. “Add another.”

“Another finger?” Your skin flushed.

“Go on.”

“I—I’ve only ever done one.” You explained, more embarrassed about this fact than you had been to strip and fuck yourself in front of him.

 “Y’can do it,” he shot you a jagged grin, “Would I ever lead y'astray?”

You swallowed your reminder to him that he used you as a lure in any situation he could get away with. Your head drooped, and you watched as you pulled your hand back enough to press a second finger to the one that had been nestled inside of you. You prodded your entrance, sinking them in slowly as you had with the first one. You hissed, unfamiliar pressure filling your abdomen, though not in an unwelcome capacity; it was a warm tension, weighty and grounding, and you quickly found pleasure in the new sensation.

The way you stared down at yourself, legs spread and lips parted, nearly made him snap; you were so curious, so hungry for instructions to follow—so deeply trusting of him. Cooper’s mouth went dry, and his hand fell to his crotch, palming at the growing tent there.

“Look’t that,” he licked his lips, “Y’feel the stretch, sweetheart? Feel nice?”

“Mm,” you whimpered out an answer, remaining focused on the way your hand met your cunt, swallowed to the last knuckle and still wanting more.

“Curl ‘em again f’me,” he muttered, squeezing his cock through the fabric of his pants.

You did, throwing your head back and hitting that same spot he’d directed you to earlier. The sound you made was desperate and primal, coming out husky from deep in your chest.

“God!” You felt like crying happy tears. Something built inside you that you couldn’t stop, and it felt good—it felt right.

“He can’t help ya now, darlin’,” the Ghoul’s mouth hung open, hypnotized by the urgency in your sounds and the way your body contorted as you tried to keep up with your own pleasure. “Now pull ‘em out ‘n’do it all again. Fast, now—you got it.”

Hurriedly, you pulled your fingers back, then pushed them back in with equal haste, bending them upwards and grazing the delicious spot you’d been missing out on for god only knows how long. You did it again, and again; your repeated movements helped you chase the high you were looking for, hurtling you towards the finish line, and you wanted him to see it as badly as you wanted to feel it.

“Look’t me,” his voice was gruffer now, a dominant edge finding its way in by way of his own lust. “Lemme see y’feel good, sweetheart.”

“C—ooper,” his words hit you exactly where you needed them, finding his gaze with your own and falling apart completely. You pulsed around your fingers, gluey and hot, your skin pricked with gooseflesh despite the humidity and the rush of warmth you felt all over. You moaned, loud and long, but your ears buzzed and your eyes screwed shut so that not even your own sounds could distract from the intensity of the orgasm that washed over you.

When you opened your eyes, squinting in the light of the fire while you took heaving breaths, you expected a blanket of embarrassment to wash over you, some type of mortification for what you’d just done—exposed to another person for the first time, allowing him a view you’d rarely ever even given yourself.

But when you peeked up at him through heavy eyelids, gulping down air, he looked dazed, his mouth agape and eyes wide. And suddenly you felt pride more than anything—you’d managed to leave the most feared man for miles at a total loss.

His hand was still on his crotch, raking his eyes over you, your form illuminated by the campfire. His throat felt dry, and he coughed a few times, hunching over to collect himself before he made eye contact with you again.

“Goddamn,” he gasped, swallowing his coughing fit, “Fast learner.”

“Good teacher,” you grinned, toeing at the discarded jeans that had been left in a heap at your feet.

“Pretty when you cum,” he rolled his shoulders back, still foggy with arousal after seeing you whine and writhe for him.

That made you blush, not out of embarrassment, but because it was the first real compliment he’d paid you. “Never done it like that before.”

“Never had a ghoul teach ya how t’do it right.” He joked, and you smiled at the way he returned so quickly to his usual snark.

“Never cum that hard, that fast.” You admitted, shooting him a glance before leaning forward to grab the wrinkled denim off the floor.

“Had me fooled,” he took out his inhaler, “Needy fuckin’ thing.” That sent a buzz through your body, and you pressed your thighs together to alleviate the ache in your cunt.

“You liked it.” You quirked a brow, dropping your gaze to your legs and pulling the oversized pants back on.

“Never said I didn’t,” he pointed out, “Almost made me cum my pants like some fuckin’ schoolboy.”

“Never done that either,” you yawned, “Made someone else cum.”

“Don’t think it’d be a hard lesson for y’t’learn,” he smirked, “Natural’at you are.”

“It’ll have to wait,” you didn’t know why you assumed it would happen at all, subconsciously hoping that this wouldn’t be forgotten in a day’s time, “Tired.”

“Course y’are,” he offered no explanation, shifting in his spot. He raised an arm and beckoned to you, encouraging you to come closer.

You did, no stranger to doing what he told you to do, and found yourself curled against his side. He smelled like smoke and sex—musky and dewy in a way that made you feel at home.

“I got first watch, y’fuckin—” he cut is taunting short when he looked down at you, seeing you fast asleep.

☆Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi :)☆

[readychilledwine]

The Fire in Spring

Summary - Calanmai is the most important night in Spring, and how lucky for you to be mated to the night's main attraction

Warnings - smut, mating press, oral, fingering, praise kink, biting kink, implied voyeurism, sex magic, implied orgy, loose editing (we die like men here)

A/n - Sorry, this is later than expected! I went back and forth and eventually decided to leave it vague enough that it could be part of Lost Bonds or read without it. I also wanted it to fit @tamlinweek d4 prompts, so did that the best I could without forcing other people to read the mini series if they haven't already 💕

Tamlin Masterlist

The Cave was hot. Almost unbearable. 

Or maybe that was just your skin as you were laid on the centered bed. Whatever had taken over the gentle male you once knew was starved. It was desperate, hungry, and wanting. 

You had been stripped bare on the way to the cave, and even just the brush of his bare chest on yours had you moaning softly, eyelids flutter shut as you did. You had never experienced sex magic before, but you could see why so many books warned against it. How you felt right now could easily become an addiction. 

Tamlin was kissing down your neck, nipping and sucking as he went to ensure you were covered in his marks and bruising. The paint on his body had begun staining your skin, another sign that you were his for the night and his for the taking. Your hands moved without permission, exploring his shoulders, his biceps, and his forearms. He was stunning. You knew that from the moment you laid eyes on him, but getting to admire him up close was almost too much.

Green eyes met yours before he wrapped his lips around your left nipple, sucking and flicking the bud until he was content with the sounds of your moans and the peak it had formed. He gave the right the same attention, smirking against your skin at the little gasps leaving your throat. “Tam,” you whispered his name, tugging on his soft blonde locks. “More.”

“More?” He chuckled against your skin as his fingers danced down your sides before gripping your soft hips. “What does my pretty mate need more of?” His kisses trailed down again as he waited for an answer. He bit your inner left thigh as you zoned out, watching the action send chills through your body to alert to the pain. “Stay with me, y/n. I want to see the way your eyes look when I make you cum in my tongue.” 

You could hardly process his words, but you raised yourself to your elbows and watched. There was an odd sense of power that came with having a male between your thighs. That first lick of his tongue through the slick mess made your head fall back, a soft fuck coming through your lips. He took it as permission, savoring each drop of you as his tongue ran from your entrance, dipping in at times for more of a taste, to circling your clit. You could feel yourself growing more and more wet. “You love this, don't you?” He licked at your clit again. “It makes you feel like a queen, doesn't it? Having me please you like this?” You could only moan in response, wiggling your hips as you tried to push him into continuing.  

He dove back in, lips locking around your clit as he ran a finger up your core. Your head fell back again as he pushed it in, curling it instantly to that sensitive spot inside of you like he already knew your body like the back of his hands. You could feel that coil tightening, core twitching around his finger. You looked back him and could have came at the sight alone. Tamlin's eyes shut in peace as he enjoyed every second of what he was doing to you.

He pushed a second finger in, opening you up for later. It took seconds for you to fall over the edge, and he moaned against you as you did. His name was a prayer on your lips, falling over and over again as he worked you through the high, only stopping as you pushed his head away.

He held eye contact with you as he cleaned his fingers, licking them and sucking them before grabbing both of your thighs and pushing your knees towards your chest. “Hold them there.” You obeyed mindlessly, a warm haze setting in all over again. You needed Tamlin like water. It was as if he was the only one capable of putting out the fire in your stomach, and you were becoming desperate to feel normal again.

“Please,” his hand went to your thigh, eyes shining in sympathy for a brief moment.

“I have you, y/n,” He was inside of you in one fluid thrust, groaning in time with the loud moan that left your body. He lifted your hips, squeezing your ass as he did, and he began. 

He pounded into you as if both of your lives depend on it. He was the most vocal lover you had ever had. Praising you with each roll of his hips. Whimpering each time you twitched around him. Groaning as your legs fell open wider allowing him deeper into you. 

Your moans were becoming higher pitched and breathy as he reached places healers wouldn't have even known about. You couldn't whispering his name between moans, you couldn't stop arching your back. Your nails dug into his arms bringing him closer to you and locking him into a kiss. 

His forehead came to rest on yours, the pace slowing significantly as it did. “You are so beautiful.” The praise shot straight through you making you whimper his name again. “In all the years I've lived, I have never laid eyes on someone more beautiful than you, and I never win.” Your hands moved to dig into his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist as his pace picked up again. 

“I need you to cum,” he moaned into your ear, kissing the tip lightly. “Need to feel you squeezing me with this pretty pussy.” It was as if he had unlocked something deep inside of you, stomach twisting and a knot forming as he continued. “I could bury myself inside of you and die a happy male. You are so perfect. So tight and warm. Feels so good, petal.” 

The praise made you feel light headed, “Tamlin, please.”

His finger moved to your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. “Go ahead. Cum for me. Let everyone here know how good I'm fucking my mate.” 

The possession, the long forgotten crowd watching and fucking in time with you two, the feeling of electricity shooting through you. You fell off the edge, screaming his name as you did, and triggered his own fall, screaming again as he bit into your shoulder and emptied into you. 

Heavy breathing was all you could hear as you came back down. Soft kisses on your brow bone worked you back to the present. “You did so good, y/n. Rest for a bit. We're just beginning.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Session One; Flyin' Solo - L.JH

🎙Who; Lee Jihoon (Seventeen) x reader 🎙What; smut, friends to fuckers, producer/idol Jihoon 🎙Wordcount; 2.8k 🎙Warnings; profanity, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation(m), praise kink, jihoon is a messy boy, i think that's it, let me know if I've missed anything though

Summary; "The last thing you expect when you arrive at your friend's studio to check on him is to find him with a badly concealed erection. And clearly, the right thing to do here is to encourage him to finish what he started under your watchful eye. You know, in case he needs anything."

Minors do NOT interact, which means liking/reblogging/commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

-2024 Masterlist- 🎙 In The Studio Masterlist 🎙

A/N- This is part one of a series of Jihoon smut that takes place in his studio. I have no idea how many parts there will be in total, I only have 4(including this one) planned currently, but it's kind of an open-ended series anyway. No plot, just cock <3

Honestly, it's not unusual for Jihoon to ignore your messages and leave you on read. It frustrated you to no end at the start of your friendship but these days you know it's his way of telling you that he's seen your message and is aware but just doesn't have the time to respond right now. He never fails to respond later though when he has the chance and often with an apology for not responding faster; which can come in the form of literally verbally apologising or simply offering to pay for dinner. So these days, you don't really mind the lack of response and honestly always assume he'll reply in a few hours.

However, what you do mind is when it's been multiple days of him leaving messages on read. It's not that you take it as a personal attack, because you know he values your friendship too much for that. But you do know it means that Lee Jihoon is being a damn idiot and not taking care of himself yet again.

Which brings us to you once again turning up unannounced at his studio ready to physically drag his ass out to get some fresh air and food. Well, drag is an exaggeration because that muscle-ridden fool is too strong for you to move, and you know that if he truly didn't want you to get your way he could easily overpower you. Yet he never does and always lets you yank him out of his studio, once he's saved his work of course, because he knows you only have his best interests in mind.

You've already pressed the buzzer once, and usually that's enough to have Jihoon answering the door yet this time he doesn't. Perhaps he's fallen asleep, but if that's so, you think it's even more reason to get him out of there and tuck him up in his own comfortable bed. Just as you press the buzzer again, the door creaks open and Jihoon's slightly wide eyes peek out. Clearly, he had not been sleeping, he's far too alert.

"Oh, hi," He mutters and licks his lips while glancing over his shoulder quickly before looking back at you. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"It's been days, you gremlin, come out of your cave." You retort, crossing your arms over your chest and giving him a firm look. The same look you always give him when he's being careless with his health like this.

Jihoon pulls a face, considering and tucks his features behind the door out of view for a second while still holding it in the barely open position, before he sighs and steps back while pulling the door open and not making eye contact with you. "Just let me save."

You hum in agreement and step into the studio after removing your shoes on the mat beside his own, then move over to sit on the couch in wait. Jihoon shuts the door and then shuffles over to sit at his desk. You're so used to him by now that you immediately know something is up, even if you can't tell what it is. He's moving so awkwardly and angled with his back to you. The tense line of his shoulders loosens a little once he's in his seat and tucked under his desk but he still isn't his usual self. "Ji?" You worry. He hums. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yep, fine, I'm fine." He replies, nodding quickly.

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Don't you fucking dare. You know I hate it when people lie to me." You warn, frowning at him. He knows that very well and always backs you up when you're annoyed at someone else lying to you. "Tell me the truth."

"Just," He sighs and waves a hand without looking at you. "Give me a minute, I'll be fine in a minute."

"You can't always brush things aside, Jihoon, it's not healthy." He mutters something under his breath. "What?"

"Nothing, don't worry, just talking to myself."

You stare at the back of his head for a minute. He perhaps looks even more tense now that you've called him out. "Face me." He freezes.

"What?"

"Turn your ass around and face me, Lee Jihoon." You demand.

Jihoon swears under his breath at the use of his full name, knowing that you're really not fucking around. Unless he wants to truly piss you off, he has no choice but to listen. He's made the mistake again of ignoring you before and seen your mutual friends do it too, it never ends well.

"Fine, fuck," He grumbles and presses save before slowly, reluctantly pushing his chair out from under the desk to allow him to gradually spin to face you. His face is a wonderful shade of embarrassed pink as he keeps his head turned away so that he doesn't have to see your reaction.

It takes you less than a fraction of a split second to notice the problem. It's pretty fucking prominent in his dark grey shorts, after all. Honestly, impressively prominent. "Huh," You comment both in surprise that you seem to have interrupted your friend in the midst of taking care of himself, and the size of the issue at hand. Or well, no longer being at hand is the real issue here if you want to be technical about it.

"Don't," He begs in a mutter.

"Don't what? I'm not doing anything! Though clearly, you were." You smirk at him, though he's still not looking at you. He sighs and leans his face onto his left palm where his elbow is resting on his armrest at his side. His blush is even darker now.

"Just shut up, please,"

"No,"

"You're such a fucking brat,"

"Mm, yep." You confirm shamelessly. Jihoon lifts his head just enough to peer over at you intrigued. In this setting, in this context, your agreement sounds more like an admittance to bedroom habits and he can't help but wonder if that's true or not. "Well, I came here to check on you, make sure you're taking care of yourself and I clearly interrupted that." He makes a frustrated sound at your teasing and opens his mouth to respond while straightening a little, less embarrassed now. But your words cut him off. "So don't let me stop you, Jihoonie."

Jihoon's mouth closes slowly, then opens again before he licks his suddenly dry lips and manages to get a response out, oh so eloquently. "What?"

"I said, don't let me stop you."

"Yeah, I heard that."

"Then what's the problem?" You motion to his crotch in a manner that very much looks like you're inviting him to his own body. You are. "Go on."

"With you there?" He mumbles, very aware that his cock is coming back to life at the thought and hoping you don't notice.

You do and smirk as your eyes watch the already impressive bulge against his thigh swell. "I fucking knew you like being watched." You grin at him teasingly and cross your arms over your chest cockily.

"And you like watching."

"Yep so, gonna give us what we both want?" You goad, raising an eyebrow at him and slouching into a more comfortable position. Really settling in for the show.

"Fuck," He gives in with a strong exhale and reaches down to yank the tie of his shorts open so that the waistband will loosen enough to allow him to reach inside. For a split second, he hesitates, his right hand gently wrapped around his hard length, but then he looks at you and sees that you're already intently staring at his crotch, so he throws all caution to the wind and tugs his cock out.

"Huh," You repeat your earlier sound of a comment at the sight of his exposed erection. It's definitely bigger than you had expected, thicker too and surprisingly pretty for a cock. You kind of want to go over and offer a hand, and by hand you mean your mouth, but this isn't about you, it's about Jihoon so you stay in place.

"Don't say something weird." He requests, sounding like he's seconds from scolding you.

"Weird? Me? Never," You snigger. "I was just thinking you're bigger than I expected, is all."

"Than expected?" He repeats with interest lacing his words as his hand starts to slowly stroke his length, fingers just about overlapping around the girth. It's impressive, you'll admit.

"Yeah,"

"That sounds like you've thought about my cock,"

"What if I have?" He hisses a little and tightens his grip.

"You have?" You hum shamelessly. Jihoon's head tips back fractionally at the thought of you imagining him. He doesn't even know what you imagined exactly; if it was genuinely a sexual thought of the two of you or just a curiosity about what he's hiding under his clothes. All he needs to know is you thought of him in some state of undress and he's speeding up his actions as the arousal in his veins burns brighter.

"I may have been wrong about your size but I was right about something."

It takes Jihoon a second to react, he's so focused on the pleasure rapidly building in his body. He had been so close to cumming before you interrupted that he knows it won't take long at all. Especially not with your intense gaze glued to him, he can feel it and knows you haven't looked away once even if his eyes are currently closed. You were on the money about him, he really is a giant fucking exhibitionist so having you watching him is sending him hurtling towards his orgasm at a speed that would be embarrassing if he wasn't so fucking horny. Jihoon rolls his head as he opens his eyes to look at you. "About - shit- what?" He wonders, swallowing at the look in your eyes as you drag them up his body to meet his hooded gaze.

"How fucking pretty you'd look." A low moan leaves Jihoon's parted lips as his eyes roll a little. "Oh, you like being praised, pretty boy?"

"Fuck off,"

"Really? Want me to leave and let you finish this all alone with no one to watch and tell you how gorgeous you look right now?"

"Shit," His face scrunches a little in concentration, eyes tightly closed and hand picking up enough speed that he's letting out consistent little grunts and moans of pleasure.

"Well?" You tease, watching as more precum dribbles out of his cock for his hand to immediately swipe over his length and ease the glide.

"N-no, fuck, stay, tell me." He insists, tone taking on a desperate edge. "Tell-tell me. Please. Fuck, 'm so close, baby,"

"Good, I want to see you cum, Jihoonie, I bet you're going to look so fucking beautiful. You already do. Look so good touching yourself like this, Ji, so fucking pretty. Wish I could frame you; pin you up on the wall to look at whenever I want." You're honestly not paying much attention to what you're saying, you're too enthralled by the rolling of his hips into his fist. It's desperate, all wet with audible squelches of his precum under his palm. And it's perhaps one of the hottest things you've seen in person. He's not even doing anything particularly special, just jerking himself off in front of you but he truly looks breathtaking and so desperate to cum it's driving you kind of insane. "Being so good for me, aren't you? Letting me see you all pretty like this. Going to cum, yeah? Show me how pretty you look?"

Jihoon does not have the ability to react other than nodding his head quickly, mouth hanging open. And then he's cumming, eyes rolling back as his back arches away from the chair and filthy moans spilling from his lips. You watch almost hypnotised as he cums all over his thighs and the seat between his spread legs. There's a surprising amount of it and at the back of your mind you wonder if he has a spare pair of shorts or sweatpants hanging around, but at the forefront, all you can wonder is what his cum tastes like.

"Good boy," You mutter out when his hand stops shakily milking his length and prolonging his pleasure. Jihoon's lips twitch up a little at the praise in an automatic response but he's too busy floating on cloud nine while trying to suck some oxygen into his heaving lungs to respond.

For a moment, you just watch Jihoon as he slumps in his seat absolutely sated and relaxed, hand still around his cock but just holding it now pointlessly. And then you get up and grab the packet of wipes from the desk. You're not sure what the boundaries are here, so even though you'd ordinarily clean up your partner, you just tap the packet against his left shoulder until he reaches up and takes one from the opening.

"Thanks," He murmurs and slowly opens his eyes while tilting his head down to look down at his crotch. "Shit." He pulls a face.

"Messy boy, huh?"

"Shut up." He grabs more wipes from the packet and gets to work doing his best to clean up.

"Do you have spare shorts?"

"Mm, yeah," He motions over to a cupboard so you go inside and find a stack of clothing there. "Actually, can you grab sweats instead?" You hum and grab a pair of sweatpants before returning to him.

Patiently, you stand there and watch as Jihoon finishes cleaning up to the best of his abilities then removes his shorts and boxers. "Oh, I didn't grab boxers," You point out.

"Don't have any there anyway." He shrugs and takes the sweatpants from you to pull up over his legs and ass and tie the string together to keep them on his hips. You just stare at him dumbly. Something about the thought of Jihoon not wearing underwear under those very worn sweatpants makes your brain short-circuit a little. "You alright?" He muses when he looks up and notices you staring down at his bottom half.

"No,"

"No?" He laughs and picks up his clothes from the floor to carefully ball up, dirty sides turned in on themselves and shove them into his backpack to take home.

You don't elaborate and he doesn't ask, figuring you'd say something if it's important or relevant to him, even if he's pretty sure you're definitely thinking about him right now.

Jihoon tidies up the studio and shuts down his computer in calm quiet before moving back over to stand in front of you with his backpack slung over his shoulder ready to leave. "So uh, I'm thinking that maybe we should do that again sometime?" He suggests, cheeks pinkening again to a pretty, soft shade. You blink at him, trying to bring yourself to the topic and not think about his cock flopping around in his sweatpants. "Yes, no?"

"Again?" You question and he nods. "Watching you cum?"

"Yeah and well, maybe I can watch you too, if you want?"

"I'd rather you fuck me." You mutter without thought making him gawp at you. "Wait, shit-"

"Okay." Jihoon quickly snaps back to reality and nods, cutting off your rush to try and correct what you had momentarily worried was a step too fucking far. "I'll fuck you whenever you want, babygirl, just tell me when."

"Now. Now would be good. You're really hot and I am wet." His eyes widen then turn hooded rapidly before he reaches out to grab the front of your jumper and pull you towards him.

"You're wet?" You nod shamelessly. "For me?"

"Yeah," You pout and tap your fingers against his chest mindlessly. "You should really do something about it."

Jihoon's voice is a low murmur when he responds. "I should." He agrees and then licks his lips. "But I don't have any condoms here so we're going to have to go get some."

"I have some at home." You declare, very willing to take him home and hopefully spend the night working your way through your supply of condoms. "And you should really get some for here for next time."

"Oh, I plan on it. Gonna bend you over my desk one day, yeah?"

"Fuck yeah." You glance at his lips then rush over to the door.

"What the fuck? I thought we were going to at least kiss." He points out puzzled, and a little offended and disappointed.

"I'm too horny, I don't trust myself to have the self-control to stop right now. So let's fucking go Lee Jihoon."

He knows better than to say no when you use his full name. Not that he'll ever say no when it comes to fucking you, as you very soon find out as you begin a wonderful, intensely pleasurable journey of fucking Lee Jihoon. And it all started in the studio.

A/N- Fun fact; I almost put "put you on my shelf" instead of "pin you up on the wall" but the shelf one made me imagine a tiny little figurine sized Jihoon violently beating his meat so I had to stick with the wall comment instead lol

[sunkendreams]

.........some The Lost Boys Marko smut? 🥺🤲

once bitten, twice shy (II).

( paul x fem!reader x marko )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: paul x fem!reader x marko.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: one-shot — requested, continuation of once bitten, twice shy.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 8.2K (not sorry!)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT! (mdni), threesome, reader has two boyfriends, bloodplay, violence & gore, vampire antics, dirty talk, oral sex (f!receiving), cunnilingus, begging, public sex (on a beach), bruising, blood drinking, biting, hair-pulling, p in v sex, missionary & cowgirl, scratching, voyeurism, making out, breast-play (paul loves your tits), handjob, fingering (f!receiving), ass-grabbing, they smear blood on the reader (not sorry, it was hot), risk of getting caught, there’s probably more ngl

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: technically this is marko smut with a big ol’ side of paul, so ,,,, I am not sorry for this being absolutely filthy, I wish it was filthier tbh :(( anyway, I hope you all have a great holiday and enjoy! there’s so much more content to come!

TAGLIST: @darklylucid ; @freyjasfenrir ; @drascilla ; @beskardaddy ; @kiki-dohedo ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @chaotichellscape ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @milland ; @the-anxious-youth

Dusk had steadily become your favorite time of day — you no longer lived by sunrise, anxiously awaiting nightfall. When the sun disappeared behind the oceanic horizon of Santa Carla, your excitement had always kicked in, accompanied by exhilaration. Instead, you’d become the queen of the night, lost to the shadows and abandoning daylight altogether.

Once the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, giving way to a cloudless, moonlit sky, the boys were up and active. It was like clockwork, something that you’d grown accustomed to as a human. Their circadian rhythm was vastly different, something that took you ages to sink into, even if you weren’t a vampire.

By the time you’d awoken, the cave was eerily silent, swallowed by a certain quiet that only came about when the boys were gone at the boardwalk. Admittedly, you were a little disappointed that you hadn’t seen Paul, but you knew he’d make it up to you later. He always did. You gave yourself a moment to adjust, gently rubbing at the back of your neck.

As your eyes grew accustomed to your candlelit surroundings, there was something sitting at the foot of your bed — a sundress in hues of gold and a vibrant orange, reminding you of a sunset. You rocked forward, gently pushing your sheets aside. The note attached to the bundle of fabric was written in semi-elegant script.

‘Wear this tonight.’ — M.

It was difficult to smother the giddy, excitable smile that stretched across your features as you began chewing at the inside of your cheek. Your fingers brushed across the crumpled piece of paper crudely taped to the dress, gently pulling it aside. You traced your digits over the frilly material, feeling it glide over your hand.

Marko had become your boyfriend, something that Paul was entirely comfortable with. Of course, Paul was your mate — that was a different title and meaning altogether. Even then, Marko had learned to settle; live with the idea that you and Paul were bound together by the hip and by heart. He was thankful that his brother let him in to begin with.

Like Paul, Marko had started down the path of gift-giving, finding items that reminded him of you, from a vast array of trinkets to clothing. You savored every second of it, of the doting attention and protectiveness that came with two vampires. There hadn’t been any intimacy yet aside from the instance of them helping you out while you were on your cycle.

Though, with their combined unpredictability, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

You sprang from your bed, clasping the sundress against your chest as you pictured what you would’ve looked like with it on. Paul adored it whenever you wore dresses — he had a habit for feeling you up through the material or rucking it up around your hips. You wondered what Marko would think, considering that he’d chosen it for you.

After cleaning up in your makeshift spring, you put on the dress, twirling around in it a few times, growing used to the liberating feeling of it. It was loose, with thin-strap sleeves and a ruffled bodice. You felt pretty — like any other gorgeous girl at the boardwalk.

The trek wasn’t excruciatingly long — you’d wandered the dirt path down to the shoreline countless times. Your step was spirited, giddy as you made it past Hudson’s Bluff and to the beach. Bonfires stretched across the white sand as far as the eye could see, often surrounded by surfers or partygoers.

As you stepped onto the boardwalk, your boots thudded against the rickety wood of the pier, your gait noticeably happy. You were smiling, on cloud nine — it was strange that you hadn’t found the boys just yet, but you knew that, once Paul and Marko caught wind of your scent, they wouldn’t be far behind.

The cacophony of people that traversed the boardwalk was seemingly endless — there was always a new face, someone you hadn’t seen before, or someone you’d seen a hundred times before. The distant lull of music filled the air, another concert down at the beach with plenty of cheering and crowds to accompany it.

When dusk hit Santa Carla, the boardwalk transformed from daytime hues to neon — vibrant, casting the pier in shades of an obnoxious pink and crimson. Strangers came out of the woodwork to enjoy the eclectic night life that the boardwalk had to offer, including the rancor and excitement of the nearby amusement park. There were worse things that lurked in Santa Carla.

Sometimes, it wasn’t the vampires. People were the enemy at times, not creatures of the night.

Gangs of Surf-Nazis dominated the beach by nightfall, surrounding bonfires that illuminated the shoreline. You always tried your best to keep away, a stark warning issued by David. The boys had a bitter rivalry with multiple groups, and by your association, that rivalry was extended to you.

You continued your search, weaving throughout the crowds that swarmed the pier, looking for the familiar cluster of motorcycles. It was somewhat unusual for it to take you this long — one of them would’ve found you by now. A pair of guys rushed past you, nearly knocking you over when you heard them mention a ‘beach brawl’ in-passing.

Something compelled you to follow, and you did, swiftly making your way down a set of stairs and onto the sand, finding a gathering of people piled up near one of the bonfires. You jogged over, boots kicking up dust as you waded across the soft shore, nudging through the encroaching crowd.

The boys versus Surf-Nazis — you shouldn’t have expected anything else.

Dwayne was locked in a wrestling match with one of them, clearly winning given his vampiric strength. He was the most indomitable of the group too, effortlessly slamming one of the surfers to the ground. Laddie was perched on the back of his motorcycle, shouting a string of words that sounded unintelligible to you.

Marko had already gotten his fill of fighting — the surfer he squared off against was knocked-out into the sand, nose bloodied. His attention immediately shifted to you, huddling near the fringes of the sea of onlookers.

It was Paul that caught your attention — Paul, who toyed with one of the surfers as if he were simply a plaything, all for entertainment. He dodged and skirted around him in the sand, laughing and mocking him all the way. “You’re too slow, bud!” He called out, giving him a swift kick in the chest.

You entered the fold, a mere human, dashing toward Paul without a second thought. You grabbed at his coattails, yanking the blonde backwards toward the bikes. “Paul! What is going on?” You gasped, catching his attention without a hitch. Once your scent permeated the beach, it was all over.

“Just a disagreement,” Paul mused, watching as the surfers began to retreat. His grin was that of triumph, pulling you into his side. “You’re lookin’ fine, baby. Marko’s got a good eye for that stuff.” The adrenaline rush of fighting Surf-Nazis began to settle, allowing him to give you a very sloppy kiss.

“Easy, tiger.” You mumbled, listening to his laughter as he brazenly squeezed at your ass through the dress. “Where’s Marko?” The curly-headed blonde was easy to pick out amongst a crowd given his vibrantly-colored patchwork jacket.

Another hand settled against the small of your back, soft lips pressing themselves against your jaw. “Right here,” Speak of the devil, and he appears. Marko was delighted to see you, feeling a rush of energy from fighting against the surfers, even more now that he was getting to see you in that dress. “You look perfect.” He sighed.

They were pressed snugly against you on either side — Paul on your left, Marko on your right. You were elated, happily providing them with a hand to hold as the three of you skirted down the shoreline. “You guys need to be more careful. You’re always getting into trouble when I’m asleep.” You chided, listening to Paul’s jester-like laughter.

Paul grinned, showering your sweet flesh in plenty of kisses. “That’s the fun part,” He mused, jerking his head in Marko’s direction. “We wanna have those surfer-dickwads for dinner.” His eyes glistened with an unrestrained hunger, coupled with humor. “Do you wanna come with us, baby? We won’t make you watch.”

“It’ll be an appetizer,” Marko added, flashing those rows of pearlescent teeth, which happened to nibble along the worn leather of his glove. “I haven’t eaten yet.” He mused, playfully nipping at your jawline. You tasted like a thick honey, sinking into his very bones.

“Before we get to the main course,” Paul added, letting out a rather exaggerated, theatrical snarl. His ringed hand snatched yours, spinning you around in a circle as the three of you made it toward the motorcycles. “Think Marko wants to give you a ride this time, babe.” He mused, winking at Marko as if he were playing wingman.

You had a feeling that you would be the main course, which made your stomach ripple with a rush of excitement. Anticipation crackled along your spine, accompanied with that familiar haze of desire. You hadn’t watched the boys kill and maim before — they were afraid it’d be too off-putting for you.

Marko smirked, taking you off of Paul’s hands as he hoisted you up over his shoulder. Despite being the smallest of the pack, his strength was just as impressive as that of Dwayne’s. You let out a squeal of delight, smacking at the blonde’s shoulder. “Marko!” You laughed, enjoying the ride as he escorted you to his bike.

Paul caught wind of the surfers’ trail, able to smell their pungent musk of cheap beer, saltwater, and their clothing. He revved his motorcycle, pulling up next to the both of you with a wolfish grin. “Got their trail, Marko. I say we follow.” He nodded, leaning over to give you a kiss once you were situated on the back of Marko’s bike.

With the roar of the motorcycle’s engine, Marko glanced over his shoulder, nudging your jaw with his nose. “We’re going for a ride,” He mused, flashing a grin in Paul’s direction. The two exchanged a look of understanding, intermingled with that pang of screaming hunger. “Hold on, baby.” Marko teased, mocking Paul’s constant use of the innocuous nickname.

You laughed, arms slipping around Marko’s midsection, idly fiddling with the cropped shirt he wore. His flesh was cold and smooth underneath your fingertips, musculature akin to marble. Once Paul sped off to take the lead, Marko followed suit, saluting Dwayne and David in a mocking fashion as they passed by.

The cool, evening breeze was on your side, accompanied by the saltwater draft wafting from the ocean. Marko drove fast, likely to keep up with Paul, who was swaying all across the shoreline as he tracked the scent of the Surf Nazi group. You felt like you were on top of the world, leaning in to give Marko a few sly kisses along his neck.

Santa Carla’s vibrant carnival began to disappear into the distance, the further you drove along the coast. Paul occasionally wove around, slowing to drive alongside you and Marko. He whistled at you, weaving just a little closer to make things more exciting.

The surfers had moved down toward the old fishing shack, now fashioned into a shoddy party-palace. Old beer bottles and cans were scattered around the rickety wooden half-dock at the shack sat on top of, littered in graffiti. A bonfire glistened in the distance, partially obscured by an outcropping of rock.

Once the thrill of the hunt began to settle in, basic instinct began to override logic — Paul and Marko were no better, submitting to the desire to feed above all else. Paul steered toward the rocks, parking his bike somewhere out of-sight. Marko followed suit, making sure that you were situated before nudging the kickstand out.

“Stay here, yeah?” Paul cautioned, gesturing toward the patch of soft sand. The rock provided something of a barrier — visually and physically. The last thing that either of them wanted was for you to get in the crossfire of a feeding frenzy. “It’s dinnertime, bud!” He howled, pressing his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss.

Marko grinned, like a shark drawn to blood in the water, caressing your cheek before giving you a kiss after Paul had his turn. “We’ll be right back.” The two were wickedly fast, swift with inhuman reflexes, hopping over the rock as they made it down the incline.

There were four of them — three guys, and one girl. The girl, a redhead sporting a one-piece swimsuit, was strewn across an oversized beach-blanket, paying little to no attention to the three men drinking around the bonfire. The other three were well on their way to becoming absolutely smashed, sashaying through the sand.

Curiosity got the better of you, shuffling forward through the white sand, soft around your knees as you peered above the rock. Paul’s posture was that of a seasoned predator, mirroring Marko’s coiled stance, like two lions prepared to strike. You shouldn’t have been watching, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Paul was the first one to move, flying up and into the fray, striking at one of the surfers from the cover of darkness. You could hear the cacophony of screams, the terror and fear that permeated the air, causing goosebumps to coalesce along the length of your spine. You shuddered, unable to tear your eyes away from the brutality of the scene before you.

Marko was ripping into another man, rending flesh from bone, muscle and sinew no match for his talons and teeth. Their laughter was partially drowned out by those shrieks and cries of fright. He bit into his jugular, cruor and crimson ichor spraying violently into the night air.

You shrank down beneath the rock, able to smell that coppery twang of blood, intermingling with the salt from the ocean. The breeze was enough to carry it all away, but you could still hear struggling and scuffling in the sand, followed by the girl’s hapless screams and pleading for help.

They were strangers — you couldn’t involve yourself in their lives. Even if the sounds were garish and macabre, you would be like them soon — a vampire. This would be your eternal existence, hunting down locals by nightfall, gifted with immortality, never to die. Paul once told you that it was easier to make it all fun and games, to disassociate whenever he killed people.

To the boys, people were playthings — no singular being was above becoming a meal or toy to them, all except for you. For that, you considered yourself lucky, fortunate to have two vampires that loved you enough to keep you around and not on the chopping block.

Your heartbeat slammed against your chest, humming erratically beneath your collarbone. You decided to look again, breath catching within your throat as Paul tossed one of the now-drained corpses into the bonfire. He looked terrifying, but part of you found it to be wildly attractive.

The bloodless bodies of the surfers were being discarded, tossed into the bonfire as crackles of orange flame flickered into the starry night sky. Marko licked his lips, now full and satiated, one of the better hunts he’d had in some time — outside of you, of course.

You steeled yourself, moving out from behind the rock and toward the slope of sand, skirting downward until you reached the very bottom. Paul’s hair looked like the untamed mane of a lion, eyes still glinting with gold as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Both of them were steeped in gore, crimson splashed across their faces and bodies — clothes that they hadn’t bothered to change in years, you were sure. As you approached them, Paul grinned, leaping toward you with a sense of giddiness, wrapping you up within his arms.

“There she is,” He purred, groping at your curves through the thin material of the dress. Paul kissed your jaw, chin red with blood, not caring if he got you dirty in the process. His mouth searched for yours, lips tangling together in a feverish embrace. “Baby.” Paul’s words lowered to an alluring lull.

A gasp ripped through your throat, able to taste that sanguine twang that permeated his mouth. His body felt so solid and immovable when pressed against yours, like the unyielding form of a statue. Paul’s tongue swept against the inside of your mouth, hands greedily squeezing at your ass.

Marko stepped in behind you, caging you against his body, keeping you for himself. Warmth radiated from you in waves, but the chill of his form kept you from feeling overheated. His fangs scraped across your neck, teasing you as he soothed it all with kisses, sucking hickeys into your flesh without warning.

Your voice soon dwindled into a simpering moan, trapped between the immovable objects that were two vampires. A yelp tore past your lips when Marko’s teeth grazed across the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “H—Hey,” You protested, sighing when Paul’s hands groped at your haunches. “What if somebody sees?”

“Then we’ll just have ‘em for dinner.” Paul’s tone was animated, wrought with a roguish charm as he kissed you hard, which rocked you back into Marko. “Loosen up, babe. Let us take care of you, yeah?” His lips curled into a gregarious smirk, lips reattaching themselves to yours without an ounce of hesitation.

A cold hand began to slither underneath your dress, gathering the material within one fist. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Marko’s voice fluttered from behind you, like fire and ice, making your stomach erupt with butterflies. “You want us to make you feel good.” You hated that he was reading your mind.

Paul cackled, cerulean hues replaced with a blazing fire, pits of gold ringed in a blood-orange, like a halo. “Yeah she does.” He sneered, pressing kisses all along your jaw and neck, licking over the hickeys given to you by Marko. His hand dug into the meat of your thigh, snug enough to leave behind faint imprints. “I can smell her.” He teased.

They were both insufferable at times — able to sense your arousal through scent alone, impish smirks and scanning through your mind. It was easier to let them look, to think freely. There were plenty of things that you wanted them to do to you.

Marko coaxed you close, leading you towards the outcropping of rough stone, bathed in the glow of firelight. In the gloom of the rock, the curly-headed vampire guided you over, back against the outcropping to protect you from the jagged edges. Paul was locked in behind you, hands tangling themselves at the hem of your dress.

“I’d rip it off, but you look beautiful in it,” Marko purred, watching as you preened underneath his praise, hazel hues flickering ravenously across your body. Goosebumps coalesced from the nape of your neck to your spine, excitement panging to the apex of your thighs. “Come here.”

His command was softly-spoken, but you knew better than to defy him. Marko was beautiful — angelic, like some cherub on the ceiling of a Renaissance painting, but beneath the heavenly facade, he was a little demon. You stepped closer, feeling his hands run across your curves, lips crashing into yours.

It was an explosive kiss, wrought with an edge of pent-up aggression and lust. His hand cupped your jaw, pressing into the side of your neck as the other gripped your hip. You moaned into Marko’s mouth, feeling Paul’s ring-adorned digits begin to yank your panties down, erection pressed into the swell of your ass.

Paul made short work of your panties, ripping them somewhere along the way, fabric torn asunder as he nudged a knee in between your thighs. His mouth languidly pressed across your neck and shoulders, licking at your sweet flesh as if it were blood. “Fuck, baby,” He growled, reaching around to push his hand between your legs. “What’s all this?”

It was difficult to ignore his playful, cajoling tone of voice as his fingers grazed over your cunt, swiping at the oozing warmth present. His rings were like the bitter sting of ice along your thighs, digits drawing slow, deliberate circles around your clit. The remains of your panties lay scattered in the sand.

You moaned, caught in Marko’s mouth as he kissed you again and again — all tongue, teeth, and desire. Your palms clamored toward his cropped shirt, dragging your nails across the taut plane of his muscled abdomen. “P—Paul,” You managed to whimper between the intense barrage of kisses. “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck, you’re soakin’ wet, sweet thing,” Paul snickered, biting down on the sensitive skin of your neck as he began to rub two fingers back and forth along your cunt, thumb grinding against your clit. “Bet you taste even better.” He laughed, smacking a palm against the pliant flesh of your ass, chin perched atop your shoulder.

Marko grinned, eyes devious and full of mirth as he hastily shoved his hand between your thighs, having to smack Paul’s hand away in order to touch you. Your whimpers and moans were like music — saccharine, strung-out with bliss. He placed two fingers into his mouth, sucking away your juices.

“You’re right, Paul. She always tastes good,” Marko mused, chin still stained with crimson. The front of his chest was unceremoniously splashed with spatters of cruor, and he swiped at it with his palm, smearing it across your chest. “You mind, beautiful?”

Having the blood of a stranger painted across your flesh might’ve been unnerving if it wasn’t for the context of your situation. You immediately shook your head, feeling Marko’s dexterous digits unhook your brassiere, and his mouth was on your collarbone before you could get another word out.

Marko lapped at the sanguine ichor that stained your skin, tongue tracing all over your chest. Normally, that would’ve been Paul’s preferred spot, but he was busy grinding his cock against your ass, ring-clad fingers beginning to bury themselves into your tight cunt. He started off slow, letting you adjust as he circled your clit.

Your fingers grasped at Marko’s curly tresses, scraping your digits through his golden mane as you tugged and pulled. His lips traveled towards your breasts, mouth trapping a nipple between his teeth as he kissed and sucked at the sensitive mound. Paul’s hand was relentless, pistoning his fingers in and out of your cunt.

The scent of copper, decay, and stale cologne stung your nostrils — you’d grown more accustomed to the smell of vampires, but sometimes, it was a little jarring. Paul attempted to conceal it with too much stale cologne, and Marko simply smelled like blood — no getting around it.

“Marko,” You whined, nails digging into his scalp as you attempted to stay upright. Paul was right there to steady you, massaging at your hip as he continued to caress your clit. Marko’s sharp teeth nipped and bit at your sternum, leaving behind a rather unsightly trail of bruised bite marks — his love bites. “Wanna touch you.”

“Don’t be shy,” Marko crooned, guiding your hands toward his waist, right to the leather-studded belt buckle. He showered you in kisses, some far more intense and overwhelming than the others. “We’re all yours.” He leaned back against the rock, letting you use him as your perch — you’d definitely need it.

Paul snickered, laughter akin to the heckling of a hyena as he sank down onto his knees, hands grabbing at your haunches. He had a picturesque idea of what he wanted, neck and chest still smeared in now-dried blood. With a shrug, Paul shed his overcoat into the sand, following the scent of your arousal like a bloodhound.

“Don’t mind me, babe,” Paul mused, wedging himself between your legs, tongue greedily lapping at your slit. “I’m gonna help myself.” Another snarl escaped him as he bit at your inner thigh. You felt awkward, contorted into a strange position as Paul began to eat you out from behind — not that you were about to complain.

Your body felt as if it were burning, being consumed by a flame called desire as it crackled along your flesh, sparking at every nerve ending. You moaned, letting out a wanton cry as Paul’s hands encircled either side of your hips, rings leaving behind indents as his mouth went to work. His tongue split past, right to your weeping cunt, tugging you wherever he pleased.

It was difficult to focus, your motions feeling jagged and robotic as you pried Marko’s belt off to the best of your ability. “Paul’s got you feeling dumb, doesn’t he?” Marko purred, clutching your wrists between his hands, leaning forward to kiss you again. It stole the very air from your lungs, leaving you breathless.

With a whine, you nodded — fortunately, Marko had a rather ingenious idea. Those blood-orange hues ensnared your eyes, hypnotizing you for just a moment. It had gotten you to concentrate, your thoughts no longer safe, nor were they yours. “M—Marko,” You stammered, listening to his fiendish laughter as he stroked your chin. “What was that?”

“Something to help you focus.” He mused, feeling your silken palm wrap around the length of his cock. A growl rippled throughout his throat as you began to stroke him off, aided by his bout of hypnosis. It wasn’t exactly fair, but it certainly got you to compose yourself. It was threadbare, a weaker hold — you were still a mess.

Paul lapped at your cunt as if he were ravenous, a man starved, happy to suck at your clit. He was grinning, attempting to steady you as your poor, feeble legs quivered around him. It didn’t slow him down in the slightest, tongue flicking along your slit.

Marko’s lips returned to yours, grunts muffled through the heated entanglement of saliva and tongues. You whimpered, pumping your hand along his cock, stroking the pad of your thumb across the swollen head, collecting pearls of precum in the process.

Entranced, Marko kept you ensnared, feeling your body convulse and shiver from the pleasure. You looked tortured in the best way possible, mouth parted, moaning and babbling strings of incoherent words. You wanted to collapse, and neither of them had even fucked you yet.

“Don’t make her head melt, Marko. We aren’t to the best part yet.” Paul reminded his brother from between your legs, licking his lips as if he’d had one of the best meals in his eternal lifetime. His cock throbbed within the tight material of his jeans, desperate to be inside of you. He kissed and nipped at your thighs, returning to your sweet cunt once more.

Hypnosis was always a dangerous slope — do it too much, and you run the risk of making someone a mindless husk. Marko smirked, kissing you again and again, hands sliding all along your body as you continued to stroke his cock. Your sounds were heavenly, trembling and high-pitched as he grabbed at the base of your skull.

Paul was messy, greedily lapping at your slick, tongue occasionally circling around your clit. You were shaking like a leaf, all wrought with ecstasy, pleasure blistering all throughout your body. Another hapless whimper escaped you, consumed by Marko’s kiss, his hand squeezing at the base of your throat.

You withdrew from Marko, still connected by a glistening tendril of saliva, your lips puffy and swollen. You quivered, trying to keep yourself semi-composed as Paul devoured your cunt. “P—Paul!” You squeaked, feeling yourself begin to approach your climax.

“You’re hogging her, Paul,” Marko quipped, brows furrowing together. “I want a taste.” His tone was somewhat agitated, though not at you — never at you. The curly-headed vampire gave you another kiss once Paul finally emerged from between your legs, grinning like a wolf.

“Knock yourself out, bud.” Paul chortled, catching you as you slumped back against him, back snugly pressed into his broad chest. He immediately went about kissing you, licking over the numerous bite marks caused by Marko, hands kneading into your breasts. “You smell so good, baby.” He purred, nibbling along your earlobe.

Marko dropped to his knees, abandoning his patchwork jacket — unusual for him, but a blessing for you. One of your hands immediately grasped at his mop of golden tresses, traveling toward the sinewy muscle of his back and shoulders. With strong hands, he spread you open, tongue splitting past, right to your cunt.

Paul rocked himself against you, erection pressed around the soft curve of your backside. His mouth was voracious, licking and kissing every inch of your perfect flesh, gently sucking hickeys into your shoulder if he could. He playfully pinched and massaged at your tits, chest rumbling with laughter when you moaned.

The ravenous vampire whose face was buried between your thighs let out a sonorous grunt, lips pursing around your clit as he began to suck and toy with the sensitive bud. He was relentless, never letting up, never allowing you to have a true moment of peace. Marko was notoriously greedy; covetous when it came to you.

“Where do you want us to fuck you at, babe?” Paul asked, pressing a string of kisses along your back, hands groping and grabbing at your breasts. He was captivated by your pliant chest, continuing to twist and tug at your nipples — it was a torturous form of pleasure. “Right here, in the sand, or maybe back home?”

You could feel Marko’s grin against your inner thigh, tangible and impish, like a brand etched into your skin. He lapped at your cunt again, savoring your taste upon his tongue. “Right here,” Marko piped up, nipping at your legs with devilish laughter. “We have all night.” Your head was bobbing up and down in agreement.

A shudder rolled down your spine, feeling Paul’s hand guide your chin back, mouth hotly connecting to yours in a sloppy kiss. You could taste blood, yourself, the faintest twang of marijuana on his lips. The kiss made you moan, dizzy and delirious from the pleasure you were experiencing.

“There’s a perfectly good blanket,” Marko licked his lips, noticing the blanket left behind by the redhead they’d killed earlier. “Unless you want the ground.” That was certainly food for thought — fucking you right into the dirt and sand like a wild animal.

Maybe he’d take you out to Hudson’s Bluff one night just for that purpose.

Paul’s mild disdain for putting you on the ground was noticeable. “Nah, she deserves something nice to lay on,” He smirked, eyes unnaturally bright as they glistened with desire. “When we fuck her senseless.” With a brief snort of laughter, he squeezed your chin, kissing you again.

You let out another whine, on the precipice of cumming, but Marko was tormenting you, the little demon. “M—Marko, please.” Your stomach felt like a pool of liquid, churning violently as you rubbed your glistening thighs together. “I wanna cum, please keep going!” Your urging came in the form of tugging his hair, but he simply sat there, lips curling into a grin.

“You wanna cum?” Marko inquired, gazing up at you from between your legs, hues shifting to that familiar blaze of burnished gold, countenance akin to that of the Cheshire Cat. When you nodded several times over, he snickered, pressing teasing kisses along your thighs. “I’ll help you out, dolcezza.”

Paul didn’t stop his brother, releasing you from his grasp as Marko flew towards that blanket, bearing now-dried bloodstains on one of the corners. Fortunately, it was protected from the sand, but that didn’t seem to matter much when Marko was crawling on top of you, hungry and lustful.

The taller vampire simply dragged one of the beach chairs over, mane wild and disheveled, chest smeared in crimson as he plucked a pair of sunglasses off of the ground. Must’ve been on one of the heads of the men they’d slaughtered. Paul put them on, lounging in the rickety, woven chair, legs casually spread apart.

“Don’t get too excited, Marko. She knows who she belongs to.” Paul snickered, watching you romp around with his brother atop the blanket. He wasn’t jealous — just impatient, wanting to have his way with you so very terribly. “Be careful with her, too.” He added, not wanting Marko to get too carried away.

Marko had a horrible habit of killing those he slept with. It wasn’t out of malice — just hunger and adrenaline, the thrill of the hunt.

“Piss off, Paul.” Marko growled, knowing not to defy any rules or expectations. He kissed you hard, cock rutting against your slick inner thighs, feeling your hands haplessly grab at his hair. You felt like silk underneath him, warm and feverish as you rocked your hips forward.

Marko’s bloodied body molded itself to yours as he ran the head of his cock against your slick slit, causing you to moan and whimper. “Marko, please!” You whined, desperate for a release of any kind, nearly thanking him when he finally pushed himself into your tight cunt. Paul could be gentle — Marko wasn’t in the slightest.

His initial thrusts were erratic and experimental, not soft or coddling. Marko wanted to find a rhythm that worked for him, and not you. Roughness and brutality were the only ways he knew how, evident in the way he began to move into you. His cock slammed away at your sensitive cunt, feeling you clench and shake around him.

Your hands clamored toward his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades as he rutted into you, rhythm unyielding and quite rough. You didn’t mind, desperate for the friction, leaving behind indents in his flesh. Marko huffed, biting at your collarbone as he moved his hips forward with the strength of a battering ram.

His cock pounded away at your poor cunt, feeling it clench and throb around his length. Marko murmured something in Italian, teeth raking across your fragile skin, nipping just above your breast as he rocked forward. He was unusually silent, focused on filling you up, fucking you with an animalistic fervor.

Paul was observing — partially for your own safety, the other for his own enjoyment. He cocked his head to one side, watching the way your body trembled with ecstasy, nails raking down Marko’s back as you scratched at his musculature. He adjusted himself within the chair, gripping the arm so hard that it began to splinter.

Marko growled, mouth traveling from your collarbone to the column of your throat, lips gingerly pressing against your jugular. It was a stark juxtaposition to the vicious rutting you were receiving from the hands of the smaller vampire. You were a mess, legs rattling like a leaf as he squeezed at your hip.

“Marko!” You cried out, back arching off of the blanket, nails clinging onto him, hard enough to draw blood. Marko smirked, leaning up enough to grab at your thigh, forcing your legs apart as he fucked you. “M’close!” You huffed, arousal from before carrying over into this.

Your heartbeat was erratic, pounding away just underneath your breastbone, enough to catch the attention of two very riled-up vampires. Marko’s growl reverberated next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine, hips attempting to grind against him. “You feel perfect,” He murmured, kissing your jaw. “My thrall.”

Pleasure rippled throughout your body, sinking into the pit of your stomach, digits threatening to rip Marko to shreds. An impossible feat, but it certainly conveyed your heightened level of desire. “Please, please,” You panted, feeling his cock hit a certain point of depth, rutting back and forth as he lured you into an orgasm. “Marko!”

Being the devil incarnate, Marko fucked you through your orgasm, making your head spin with a euphoric sensation. You moaned, body unable to fully keep up with his brutal pace, shuddering when he rutted into your cunt even still. “Just a little more,” He purred, lapping at the pearls of blood left behind from the bite on your collarbone. “You can handle it.”

Jesus — you were on fire.

Marko was fucking you as if it would be his very last rut, cock slapping away at your cunt. You were quivering from both excitement and from a post-orgasmic haze, stomach churning and rippling with a delightful pleasure. You still held onto him, letting him screw you through your climax, not that you cared. The pleasure made your head go fuzzy, as if you were floating.

Paul frowned, prepared to smack Marko away from you if needed. “You got two minutes, bud. Don’t break my girl,” He uttered. Even if Paul’s demeanor was normally lighthearted and spirited, he could become vicious and downright unhinged. When it came to you, he was rather overzealous at times. “Easy.”

Marko was somewhat ignoring Paul, but still adhered to the side of caution for his sake and for yours. He’d get another opportunity — alone, hopefully. The curly-headed leech continued to fuck you, capturing your mouth in another passionate kiss before he came, pulling out halfway through, painting your stomach with thin ropes of his seed.

You whimpered, feeling messy and sticky, skin heated with a fine layer of perspiration. Marko snickered, biting at the corner of his thumb as he admired you, coated in his cum. It was a mental picture to keep of you as he gave you another kiss. “Good girl.” He sighed, feeling Paul give him a brusque shove.

“My turn,” Paul crooned, deciding that he’d be gentle with you this time around. Marko had clearly fucked your brains out, given the blissed-out expression on your face. “Looks like you did a number on her.” He mused, flinging off the mesh top he wore as he slipped beside you, peppering your face in kisses.

“Paul.” You sighed, soothed by your boyfriend’s sweet, tender kisses. You loved Marko — you loved how feral and unrestrained he was, but you needed something a little more gentle if you were to last another round. They sometimes forgot that you were still human.

Marko grinned, unceremoniously depositing himself into the chair Paul was in moments prior. He liked watching you just as much as he enjoyed participating. Partaking was one thing, but observing helped him study you — what made you tick?

“You got another one in you, babe? I’ll let you get on top. You can give Marko a little show,” He guffawed, settling atop the blanket as you climbed on top of him yourself. Your legs were shaking, sure, but you knew that Paul intended to take it easy on you. “Fuck, you got such a gorgeous body.” Paul groaned, ring-clad hands caressing all over your physique.

Your head began to move, rolling up and down in a lazy nod. “Just one more.” You had the feeling that, by the time this was over, they’d have to carry you back to the cave. Nonetheless, your fingers worked away at Paul’s belt, pushing the snug, white fabric down enough to free his cock. His hardened length oozed with precum, desperate to be inside of you.

Paul kept one hand on your hip to steady you, guiding you up enough until the crown of his cock prodded against your entrance. He let you take your time, feeling you lower yourself, tight cunt swallowing his length, inch by inch, almost painfully sluggish.

One of Paul’s hands skirted upward to massage and caress at your breast, the other guiding you up and down along his cock, keeping a slower pace. “You feel divine,” Paul groaned, your warm palms dancing across the plane of his chest, one hand reaching for his throat. Your digits tensed around his neck, applying a sensible amount of pressure. “You know just what I like.” He purred.

Basking in the crackling glow of the bonfire’s light, Marko admired the myriad of bite marks and hickeys he’d left all along your body. You met his gaze, almost shrinking away until his lips twitched into more of a half-smile instead of a sardonic smirk. A passionate sigh escaped you as Paul lulled you into a more leisurely pace.

The sluggish, deliberate speed of your hips was a much-needed respite from Marko’s near-obliteration of your body moments prior. Paul was more than happy to do most of the work, strong enough to roll you up and down along his cock.

Paul could be unhinged and rough like Marko, but more often than not, he didn’t want to destroy you. He preferred to draw it all out, if he could. Your legs quivered as you let out a soft moan, squeezing at his throat as he let you enjoy the ride. He sat up, enough to get his mouth around your tits again — his favorite.

“Paul,” You moaned, head rolling backwards as Paul’s lips greedily sucked and kissed at your breasts, savoring the silken texture of your chest underneath his tongue. Your hands grabbed at his disheveled tresses in fistfuls, moving your hips with the steady rhythm he provided. “You feel so good.” You sighed.

His cock hit new depths, beginning to lightly push against that spot, opening up a new wave of pleasure. Even then, he kept a gentle speed, not wanting to overwhelm or harm you. With Marko and him combined, you likely wouldn’t be walking around very much. Paul loved your chest, face buried against your breasts instead.

A saltwater breeze fluttered across the shoreline, raking across the perspiration that had dewed up along your back. You shivered, hand gripping into Paul’s broad shoulder as he continued to rut into you, pace still rather tame. “Baby, I’m gettin’ close,” He growled, showering your unattended breast in a flurry of kisses and kitten-licks. “Fuck.” He hissed.

You coaxed him in for a kiss, tasting that amalgamation of blood, marijuana, and a faint wisp of smoke. Paul kissed you with a reverence that transcended a simple relationship — it was the embrace that only a mate could provide. He groaned into your mouth, muscles of his neck flexing underneath your palm.

Marko watched, enthralled by you — his adoration for you had climbed to new heights, your scent buried within his mind, smeared across his body. Of course, it would’ve been better if you smelled like him, marked as something that belonged to him. He chewed at his thumb, dark gaze glued to you, burnished gold dissipating into hazel-greens.

You didn’t care if you came again, simply basking in the attention from your partners. Marko’s stare bored into you, tearing into your thoughts, enough for you to open your eyes and look at him. You bristled underneath his silent appraisal of you, able to detect the overflow of desire and want in his eyes.

Paul bit at your lower lip, effectively tearing your attention away from Marko. His kiss was blissful, blossoming into something passionate and sloppy — it was so very Paul. His lips curled into a grin, palpable and pressed into your mouth, which you happily reciprocated. His hand snaked in between the both of you, thumb circling around your clit as he bucked up into you.

“You’re my sweet little mate,” His voice emerged as a tantalizing purr, teeth grazing along the column of your throat. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Paul groaned, making your head spin from the compliments. A string of expletives escaped him — breathy, soft ‘fucks’ muttered from the mouth of your very aroused boyfriend.

A moan tore past your lips as he swallowed it whole, cock beginning to throb as he came inside of your tight cunt. He didn’t bother to pull out this time, stuffing you to the brim with his cum, tongue swiping at the inside of your mouth. Ripples of pleasure fluttered across your body as he attentively played with your clit.

His ecstasy was enough for you as warmth pooled between your legs, but you were most definitely spent. Paul huffed, smirking like the cat who’d just caught the canary. “It’s like your body was made for me or somethin’, just sucking me right in.” He teased, peppering your hot flesh in strings of kisses.

“Paul,” You mumbled, nose wrinkling slightly. Everything felt so heavy, but you were determined to keep yourself afloat until you made it back to the cave. “Love you.” You whispered, giving him a sweet kiss as you pulled yourself off of him. It was a mess of his cum and yours that painted the inside of your thighs.

“I love you more, baby.” Paul cooed, squeezing your chin as he continued to pamper you in a barrage of kisses. It wasn’t difficult to notice the little sting of yearning in Marko’s eyes — but Paul understood it all more than anything else. You could love both of them.

Marko had collected your clothing from along the shoreline, clutching your torn panties in his hand. “Think I’ll keep this as a trophy.” He smirked, noticing the way you became absolutely flustered. It was hard not to laugh at your reaction, and the curly-headed vampire pressed another kiss against your jaw.

Paul went about kicking a half-eaten arm back into the bonfire, retrieving the sunglasses he’d snatched off of a corpse. He retrieved some of his clothes, draping his tuxedo coat over your shoulders once you’d put your dress back on. Your undergarments were in a state of complete and utter obliteration.

“When will you both stop destroying my clothes?” You sighed, reluctantly climbing onto the back of Marko’s bike as the three of you prepared for the short ride back to the cave.

“As soon as you stop dressin’ up all pretty for us, sweet thing.” Paul snickered, revving the engine of his motorcycle as he took off into the night. He was howling — likely the post-sex and post-hunt excitement beginning to kick in.

Marko was right on his heels, leaning back into you when your arms wrapped around him. He seemed somewhat docile again, having released his bloodthirst and desire to fuck all in one go — the preferred method, really. You pressed yourself against him, chin perched atop his shoulder.

“Hey,” You mumbled, voice a softer hum, close to his ear. Marko was listening, wanting to drown himself in the sound of your sweet voice. “You know that I love you too, yeah?” Your hands gently traced around his abdomen, feeling his cold musculature underneath your fingertips.

That familiar smirk of his made your stomach do flips as he pressed a chaste kiss against your jaw. Marko wanted to hear you say it — but it was just as palpable within your thoughts, and that was more than enough for him.

“I love you more.”

[highvern]

Sales Pitch II

Pairing: Moon Junhui x fe!reader, feat. Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 21+

Warnings: consensual voyeurism, exhibitionism, cum eating, spitting, unprotected sex, cream pie, snowballing, dom/sub themes, masturbation, multiple sex positions, impact play, choking, take me to paris wonhui!

Length: ~5k

Note: for all legal purposes, im still on semi-hiatus! this is just more torture for my bestie @wenjunehui patterns is still shelved until further notice, don't ask me about updates pls :) as always lmk what you guys think! also please ignore any errors i cracked this out in a lust fueled haze for pathetic bratty sub jun

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

Read part I

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Your back meeting the cool wood of the door muffles the click of the lock. All you can feel is Wonwoo; the weight of his body, his lips trailing across your jaw, his hair curled around your fingers. A sharp tug lets you feel more, urging him to grind his half hard cock into your core.

Darkness encases your intertwined figures on all sides. Only the faint light about the stove casting a hazy yellow that fails to reach the far corners of the room. You like it better this way. More anticipation in every touch. A flash of Wonwoo’s pale skin when your fingers drift under his sweater, or the dim shadow of his form dancing across your shut eyelids as he moves you further inside.

He doesn’t waste any time rushing towards the counter, lifting you up easily and shoving a hand up your short skirt. Wonwoo finds what you both knew he would; soaked and pantiless with arousal smeared between your thighs. You’d played the game all night, biting your tongue each time his finger tips skimmed the inside of your knee during the movie. Or at dinner when he watched you with an unimpressed gaze over the rim of his wine glass. All of it built up to this. 

A finger dips in; barely breaching your entrance before retreating. The tease makes you desperate; tightening around each thrust to convince him to stay and press deeper only for Wonwoo to chuckle and leave you gaping again and again with more slick dripping down his digits each time. 

“C’mon,” you huff. You're quick to snag his wrist, using every ounce of strength to force in place as your hips grind up. 

Wonwoo needs no more encouragement after the first sharp whimper of satisfaction you release. Instead, he presses hard with another finger until you can feel him in your lungs. The suffocating heat of your top results in its swift removal. But the relief is short lived as teeth nip at the curve of your breasts before dropping to suck a nipple through the lace. Thighs muffling the debauchery, you pant into his hairline while his own mouth focuses on bruising your chest.

Skirt belting your hips, Wonwoo drops more fervent kisses as he descends lower and lower. The granite of the counter is cool against your sweat back but unforgiven when you arch at the first timid flash of his tongue through your folds. The mess between your legs turns obscene under his mouth, lips smacking with each lash against your clit.

But it’s all still a tease. Nothing but a show to prove he can give and take and give and take until you’re willing to cry for more. Or at least until the man watching from the shadows caves and blows the illusion. 

In your peripheral, Jun stands out in the arm chair at the far end of the room. If you didn’t know he was there then you’d never guess. The kitchen and living room connected in what is really a singular large space, uninterrupted by anything that could distract the view. And what a view he has; you topless, nipples shiny and spine curled while his roommate eats you out on the counter. 

You won’t look where you know he’s sitting, no doubt cupping himself over his jeans in desperation. Jun is a good boy. He touches when he’s told and sits on his hands when he can’t help it. But you’re spread like a feast under Wonwoo’s mouth and Jun is just a man.

Wonwoo plucks and strokes, nips and sucks, driving you inch by desperate inch to the brink. Warm and worn under his mouth, another finger sinks in easily but Wonwoo goads anyway.

“Fucking tight,” he jests a little too loud for the small space between you but he wants Jun to hear. It’s sick. 

Especially when you hear a sharp inhale from where he sits.

The flat of Wonwoo’s palm lands on your stomach, skin sticking to skin as he forces your hips down. You don’t take to the warning. With your coworker slash friend with benefits who you occasionally go on dates with but not saying anything, you call all the shots. If you want to hump his face until he passes out from lack of oxygen, Jun will beg you to do it. If you want to sit on his cock while he counts the register, well it might take him five times to get the numbers in order but what his queen wants, she gets.

Wonwoo isn’t as eager to let you take charge and lets you know with the impact of his hand on your cunt.

“Fuck!”

He massages away the sting, thumb dipping to replace his tongue at your clit. “Stop moving.”

“Fuck off.” You bite.

The air cracks with tension. You’d take the amused twitch of Wonwoo’s lips as a challenge if it wasn't for the plan hatched during the car ride home. A sure fire way to get Jun so riled up he’d ruin his record of perfect behavior and give you and Wonwoo the chance to punish him the best way possible.

Your back talk goes as planned. Wonwoo rises, a tight grip at the back of your neck while he drags you up. It looks worse than it is. Another tease at Jun, taunting him with the idea of you giving him the same treatment.

But instead of fucking you over the counter like originally discussed, Wonwoo fumbles towards your room, out of Jun’s sight. You can hear him rise to follow with rushed footsteps but the door slams shut in his face before he can stop it. The lock clicks just as quickly and your left stifling amused cackles with Wonwoo doing the same.

“What the fuck guys?” Jun calls from the other side, rattling the door knob desperately. 

Is it better to acknowledge his frustration or pretend he doesn’t even exist? Jun calls again, a timid knock punctuating his plea. 

“Yeah?” You call, back settling against the door louder than necessary. Wonwoo takes back up the work at your chest, sucking a taunt nipple between his teeth while you do all the talking.

“I’m locked out.”

Your head thuds back as Wonwoo licks his way to your neglected breast, responding with more breath to hint at what's transpiring out of his line of sight, “We’re kinda busy.” 

“But—” he starts, only to be silenced.

“Oh, Wonwoo! Fuck.”

His fingers aren’t as deft as Jun’s and neither is his tongue but you’re spurred by the frustration in Jun’s tone. The metal of the knob continues to rattle, more erratic with every whimpered plea for more from the man in front of you. Turning around, your face melts against the wood while Wonwoo unzips his pants and presents himself.

“You’re so big,” you coo. 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at the obvious bait but plays right along. “Yeah? Think you can take it?”

A bang near your head sends you into the air. 

“Let me in!” Jun demands.

His voice is hard. Steeled with a tone you’ve never heard before and it sends a chill down your spine. 

But Wonwoo seems undisturbed as he bends you at the waist. “She’s busy.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jun bites before melting softer. “Y/N, you said I could watch.”

The head of Wonwoo’s cock nestles against your entrance. He waits while you figure out your next move. Wonwoo agreed he’d go along with whatever you decided but the ghost of being split full makes all the choices bleed into one. 

“You’re not even asking right.” You say. “Maybe if you ask like a good boy we’ll let you in.”

“Please? Please let me in. I’ve been good. You said I could watch, baby. Please.”

“I don’t know. What do you think, Woo?”

Glancing over your shoulder, he shrugs. And then Wonwoo spits where his dick rests and rushes inside.

You know Jun hates it. He can feel Wonwoo fuck you into the door, every thrust leaving the wood to groan under the additional weight. If that wasn’t enough he can hear everything too. Your breathy moans, the slap of hips against your body, the sound of your sopping pussy. 

The few times he’s worn a blindfold proved he doesn’t like to be teased; a trail of broken cuffs and other restraints left in his wake. He’d rather be overstimulated until he’s cross eyed and barely breathing than edged. The one time you tried left your ass sore for days from bites and spanks. 

With each ticking second a repeat inches closer. And maybe with Wonwoo in the mix, Jun will be even more possessive. It certainly sounds like it as he grows exasperated in his pleas.

“Shit you’re so wet.” Wonwoo groans. “Bet you wish you could see it. Don’t you?”

“Fuck you.” 

You catch the telltale rasp in his voice too easily. Jun isn’t even trying to pretend. 

Smacking your fist against the door, you fume. “Are you fucking serious?” 

Wonwoo freezes. A trickle of fear he’s over stepped rushes his spine until your ass pushes back into the cradle of his hips. Your reprimand isn't’ for him. It’s for the brat jerking himself off like you don’t own his cock. 

“You didn’t let me in.” Jun teases, moaning boldly.

Jun gets what he wants. The door unlocks and you find him with his pants around his thighs, the tip of his cock shiny as it peeks through his tight fist. He doesn’t even stop the flutter of his wrist when your eyes find his face, ready for whatever punishment you might throw his way.

You step into his space. So close his length digs into the softness of your belly while your hand traces along his neck. Jun isn’t stupid enough to think you’re apologizing but your next words make him shudder.

“You’re gonna regret that.” You bite, teeth digging into his neck to leave a mark. 

Wonwoo’s eyes burn across your body from where he sits on the bed, watching every move. You won’t be bested by Jun while someone else is around to witness so your touches turn possessive; nails raking across his skin, fingers pinching his nipples until he cries for mercy. The beginnings of a bruise blooms across his throat. And Jun’s wrist still never stops. 

“Go sit on the bed.”

A trail of clothes flutters in his wake. About a foot of space sits between him and his roommate. Wonwoo maintains his cocky expression while waves of frustration waft from Jun. But neither speak as you dig through your side table for a bottle of lube. 

You approach where they wait, turning so you back meets Wonwoo’s chest as you sink into his lap. He curls both arms over your stomach and traces your shoulder with his nose. 

“Jun, come here.”

He’s in front of you in a second, cock bobbing right at your chest.

“Wonwoo is gonna fuck me and you’re gonna watch.”

“No.” Jun states.

Even Wonwoo stops at the sudden refusal. “No?”

“I wanna touch you too.”

His fingers twitch at the idea, desperate to feel you on him after being denied the promise to watch.

You hope your idea will calm his disobedience for now. Gazing with soft features, your hand finds his hip and strokes gentle circles into the skin. “But you broke the rules, baby.”

“So did you!”

You circle his cock in your hand, slowly working him just the way he likes until the quake in his legs nearly sends him to the floor. 

“If you don’t cum, then you can fuck me. But if you do, then you don’t get to touch me the rest of the night. Deal?”

He opens his mouth to object but you beat him to the punch.

“Or Wonwoo and I can have fun and you can go sit in the living room until we’re done.”

Maybe it's the way your thumb swipes at his tip, or the dip of your head to lap away the mess. Or it could be how you look at him, hopeful he’ll agree because you’re not done playing with him yet. But it's probably because you leave a gentle peck on his stomach to hide the whispered ‘please’ for his ears only.

“Okay.”

Before you can praise him, Jun pulls you up into a searing kiss. It’s messy and sloppy in the best ways. His tongue licks into your mouth, gliding across yours and lapping away any noise you both make. Not even the discomfort of his nose burrowing into your cheek manages to distract you from the new dynamic. The heat makes your toes curl embarrassingly; like a teenager getting her first kiss with the boy she’s crushed on for months. Maybe it's a closer description than you’d like but you don’t dwell. Just rise on your knees to chase him for more, more, more until you're floating.

And considering how his fingers curl around the arch of your jaw, Jun clearly plans to stay a while.

But it also makes you remember it’s not Jun’s hands at your chest. It’s definitely not Jun’s cock sinking inside you because you still have him leaking in your hand. The image of Wonwoo sitting beneath you, watching as you and Jun dissolve into a matching set of needy desperate messes brings you back down from the clouds.

The bottle of lube enters the playing field again, its contents cold and slimy as you squirt it over your breasts. Wonwoo jostles you in his lap with every stilted grind as he searches for his own pleasure. Roused by the commotion, Jun sits back to see what you have planned. His love for your tits excels beyond casual interests and verges on perversion. A hand raises to help massage the soft skin but he stops short and remembers what you asked. But the drool slipping out the corner of his lips can’t be helped when squeeze them together and the flesh bounces.

He knows you have more up your sleeve than a lewd show although he’d happily empty his load on your chest and watch you rub it into the skin as well. Mark you as his even if Wonwoo gets to dump his spend in your cunt. Jun’s done it before and he’ll get to do it again and again long after Wonwoo’s out the front door.

Hot and wet, the tip of his cock grazes your nipple when you lean forward; both twitching at the contact. Jun steps up and lets himself rest on your sternum, releasing a pained breath while you press your tits together to squeeze him tight. More lube helps the first slide and leaves his pre-cum dappling against the hollow of your throat. 

“Jesus—shit,” he puffs.

Wanting to hear more, you lap at the head of his cock on the next downstroke and are rewarded with your chin glossed in pearly white. 

Wonwoo paws instantly at your ass and hips, refusing to ask for you to dedicate an iota of attention to his blight. Wedged so deep inside you, you nearly rise all the way up on your knees before sinking back down. Every drop leaves you stuffed with two cocks and you can’t help but wonder if more preparation could make you even more full next time. 

“Want you to cum, kitty.” You coo, lips puckered on the next suck.

His head drops back, lip bruised between his teeth. “Can’t.” 

“But I want you to,” you hiccup in a feign of innocence. “You’ve been so good. You deserve it baby.”

Your words are sweet like honey. Jun wants to cave, it's painted so plainly on his face. Eyes screwed tight, lip quivering, hands fisted at his sides while his body wages war with his mind. But one lube slick finger dipping beneath his balls and going for the soft spot just before his ass finishes the battle.

His stomach caves as he cums, rogue without aim. You manage to catch enough on your tongue to satiate your need for him but the rest drips and trails across your face and torso as you continue to bounce on Wonwoo’s cock without so much as a missed breath.

Sweat beads along your back and Wonwoo’s chest suffocates your skin even further. Leaning back, he accommodates your wish and falls to his elbows without missing a beat; feet planted on the floor so he can buck up into you. 

Jun can only stand and watch, the evidence of his failure shinny across your chin, neck, and chest. Rounded eyes brimmed with disappointment meet his own as he falls to his knees to clean up the mess.

He’s breaking the rules again but you honestly can’t care with the way he sucks away his own cum. You’re not too keen on it going to waste so before he can swallow you pull him up, split his lips open with your thumb, and get a taste for yourself. 

Your chest is covered with his mouth again before he rises and spits his haul into your waiting tongue. Jun keeps going. He doesn’t stop until there's nothing left and even then he presents his own tongue for you to spit on when he’s done.

“You’re so nasty,” you pant as he gulps down your present.

Jun focuses on leaving a brand of his teeth below your jaw, grunting when you grab for his limp cock again. He can give you more. He always does.  A final kiss satisfies Jun’s needs before you send him back on his haunches to wait.

Wonwoo barely registers as an afterthought, his presence eclipsed by Jun’s desperation and your eagerness. But he deserves to get what he came for. The quicker the better because you still have unfinished business with your coworker turned fuck buddy.

Slipping from his lap, his cock falls against his stock. Rigid and coated in your arousal, you rush to face him and sink back down.

He sighs at the relief, “finally” before dropping fingers to your clit while the other circles your throat. 

Your back meets the sticky sheets swiftly. Wonwoo presses deep and firm, stretching you to the limit. Jun still sits in the back of your head even if you can’t see him. You know he’s watching and it's enough to make you shy. But there's no room for it as Wonwoo hooks your knees in the dip of his elbows and spreads you wider, no doubt making Jun privy to your wrecked cunt.

“Harder,” you choke.

Wonwoo gets lost in the motions and nearly crushes you into the bed for it. Your fingers find his stagnated ones, brushing them aside to swipe against the raw bundle of nerves.

Teeth tug at your earlobe, biting into the softness as the end breaches over his spine. You retaliate with the sting of your nails down his back, digging harshly when you reach his ass to force him deeper. 

“Fuck, yeah.” He groans, voice breaking. Another harsh press of his hips sends you up the bed from the force. “C-c-cuming. Fuck, I’m cuming.”

Hot rope after hot rope creams your insides as Wonwoo works through his orgasm. You feel something dripping down your slit to your ass and assume he’s stuffed you with more than you can take. 

He pecks your cheek in thanks, signing off with a press of his nose before rolling away and leaving you empty. And the other discussion from the car comes back.

“I can’t believe it was Jun’s idea for me to take you on a date.” Wonwoo snorts.

“Why?”

“Because what guy wants another man taking out his girlfriend.”

You sit in uncomfortable silence, unable to admit the truth. Jun isn’t your boyfriend. And the entire charade tonight doesn’t seem to point that his interests even point remotely in that direction.

“So you and Jun aren’t dating?”

“No.”

“Well this is gonna go great.” Wonwoo quips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You can’t help but be defensive but before you can get an answer he’s pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant.

The wet of Jun’s lips glide across your ankle, up your shin and over your knee. His hands find the crease and he pushes until your legs dangle over his shoulders. Every touch is devout, an attempt to soak in your presence without the previous interference. One of your palms finds his cheek and Jun is quick to drop a lazy kiss to it before setting to work between your legs. 

He doesn’t rush. If Jun wanted you wailing and twitching he’d have you there already. Instead, slow strokes bring you back to life bit by bit while his hands keep kneading the meat of your thighs and stomach.

Melting under the attention, you don’t even notice Wonwoo begins to rise until he speaks.

“That was fun.”

Neither of you acknowledge him. Too lost in one another, if you focus hard enough you can completely ignore the sound of him collecting his clothes. 

But Jun can’t.

Every shuffle earns a harsh lick against your sensitive clit. He doesn’t stop when your thighs nearly crush his head or your fingers tug at his hair. For the first time, Jun doesn’t listen to your silent instructions at all.

His fingers lack the same timidity as his mouth. Three spear you immediately, curving and scissoring until your vision goes fuzzy at the edges. More of Wonwoo’s cum leaks out and Jun is quick to lap it away and spit it into the bed sheets away from where you lay. 

“Now that’s just insulting.” Wonwoo calls. You find him lent against the door frame, dressed with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

Jun doesn’t let up. If anything, the sound of his roommate's voice spurs him on. 

You gesture vaguely towards the door with a gasped, “get out,” before you fall back under Jun’s spell.

He focuses on cleaning away any proof Wonwoo was ever there. His fingers soak in your ruined cunt to pull away the excess before his tongue sneaks inside 

“Oh my god— J–Jun.”  You beg, body kicking in a tantrum while tears curl in your eyes.

He offers a hand to hold on your stomach while he continues to prove whatever point he hopes to make in the crux of your thighs. You grip on for dear life, nails leaving crescents on his skin while his thumb brushes against your palm in time with his tongue teasing lower and lower.

“Tell me I’m better.” 

You barely make out the words muffled in your cunt. Immediately you think he’s asking for more praise, the kind he gets when he cums twice within minutes. But you can’t wax poetically about how good he is with the way brands his tongue into your heat. All you can do is moan and whine with gusto and hope it's enough.

Jun rises, face coated in your arousal and eyes lazy. He doesn’t reject your kiss, or the shy way you prod the seam of his lips with your tongue. Tonights different in a million ways and the fact you feel nervous underneath him makes you even more skittish. 

Hips cradling his, Jun slides his cock deep without the usual stretch thanks to the hours of play. Jun anchors your legs wide to watch you take him inch by inch. Curiosity gets the better of you, and your chin dips to see the display as well. Not the first time he’s fucked you raw but the constrate of his skin against your own never grows dull. Trailing your eyes up further, you observe the twitch of his stomach every time you clench around him until Jun crushes you into the sheets.

You're both desperate. Breath puffing into eachothers mouths as you meet in a pathetic kiss. Sweat slicks your belly against his own. Jun covers every inch of your body he can like he wants to melt together and stay that way forever. 

“God, Jun!” You cry. “Shit, shit. G-gonna cum.”

Riled beyond belief, you need to cum. If it’s on his cock, or his fingers, or his face, you don’t care. As long as he’s there to help you through it. 

“I’m better than him, right? You want me more?”

He’s right in your ear, clear as day. Hours of build up freezes and shatters in half a second.

Your legs lock around the smell of his back, slowly his frantic pace until he’s calm enough to take a breath. His embarrassment hides in the curve of your throat. Jun paints apologetic kisses across every stretch of skin he can find while you wait for him to speak. 

“Jun?”

Nose cutting into the soft space under your jaw, he whispers, “I don’t want you to sleep with other people.”

Your gut tugs defensively. How dare he? Wonwoo was Jun’s idea, not yours; his roommate who made one joke about hearing you two fucking into the early hours of the morning. It was Jun who asked to invite him in. But before you can remind him of the fact, he frees his next truth.

“I want it to be just us.”

Hot and cold flash on your skin and a pit the size of an elephant explodes your stomach. There's too much ambiguity in such a statement. Too many what ifs. Considering his cock is still pressed between your legs, you refuse to be hopeful he’s asking for more than exclusive permission to your body.

“Okay.”

He jumps away from his hiding place, face wide with amazement. “Really?”

���Sure,” you swallow. “We won’t fuck anyone else.”

“That isn’t…I want it to be us. Us? You and me?”

“Like dating?”

He nods mutely.

A smile tilts the corners of your mouth, splitting your face ridiculously. You whisper again, “okay.”

Shy smiles and avoidant eyes are out of place giving what you’re doing. Given everything you have done. But you like Jun and he likes you and now you're both nervous because being naked means more now than it did twenty minutes ago.

You forge the courage to kiss him with gossamer drags of your lips over his jaw. He giggles when your breath ghosts over the shell of his ear, folding his head down to his shoulder to stop the maddening sensation and you can’t help but glow from the absurdity.

Pouting playful, you rope him into the fun with a taunt.“Kiss me.”

Jun doesn’t play around the demand. He seals his lips over yours, only interrupted by a grin that turns the connection into teeth from the twin smiles illuminating your faces. 

After the initial giddiness dims, Jun seems to remember he’s still inside you with a cursory thrust. It’s the same way he was fucking you before but now there are feelings and everything has an indecipherable edge.

His mouth avoids the sensitive parts of your chest, focusing on rubbing his lips across your skin and soaking in the feeling rather than soliciting a response. He’s aimless in his pursuits but you enjoy the attention all the same.

A sigh of your name signals his end. But Jun won’t cum a second time. Not while you still haven’t had your first.

Steady on one arm, he sucks his thumb into his mouth before slithering it where you meet. Everything quakes under the pressure, hours of teasing rising to a boil without preamble. Tremors ripple from your sore clit through every muscle. Growing stronger and stronger until you're bucking wildly. 

“Please cum, need it baby.” Jun whimpers, veins raising on his neck from the strain to hold back. “Been so good. I listened! Please, please, please.” 

He’s pathetic. Weak for good pussy and a dom who’ll give him the direction he needs to please. And you’re even more pathetic because you’re cumming on the next whiny breath he releases. 

Jun tries to fuck you through it, but the lewd mix of lube, arousal, and cum proves to hinder rather than help. He slips out and leaves you aching at first, two sets of hands scrambling to slip him back home. In the deep end of bliss, you crave the closeness rather than need it but it doesn’t stop Jun from huffing with frustration.

You grow boneless and pliant through the next strokes, eager to see him make another mess. Nothing feels as good as he does on your skin. Managing two handfuls of ass, you pull him deeper until he cries. 

“Wanna feel you make this pussy yours.” You beg into his shoulder. “Will you do that for me? Fill me with your cum?” 

His response is a raw moan, pathetic at your offer. The flutter of your walls around him unravels the knot of his second release until he’s rushing forward, forcing you down until you can’t breathe while he ruts every drop of his spend as deep as possible. 

You already know what he plans to do when he attempts to slip out. He's a freak in the most predictable ways. But a ghost of your foot along the sensitive back of his thigh and a coo for his return quell the hunger for further depravity. 

Relishing in the silence, you both find places to stroke and explore. The calloused pad of Jun’s thumb follows the bow of your lips, swirling across the sensitive skin with an occasional pause; only to start again when you bestow a gentle kiss. 

“Can we sleep on the couch? It’s fucking nasty in here.”

Scoffing, you force him out of your chest with a palm to his forehead. “I’m sorry, who was the one spitting cum earlier?”

“Shut up.” Jun pouts, kissing his point across.

Dozing on the couch, Jun lights the pre-roll from his overnight bag. A few puffs are all it takes to melt the lingering jitters from his confession. Somehow this Jun, cozy in his sweats with damp hair and a lazy grin, is more imposing than the one who left the mess still staining your panties. But he doesn’t let you stay at the far end of the couch for long. Planted between long legs, back to his chest while his fingers tangle together on your stomach, you find it all feels right.

@tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @horanghaezone

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[farfromstrange]

Hi Lisa, can I make a Matt Murdock x reader request?

Reader is learning braille and reading a smut book. Matt is a little annoyed that you don't put this book down when he gets home and smells you getting wet reading it. One day he is home earlier than you and he starts reading this book and masturbates while doing so and at that moment Reader comes home.

Nonnie, thank you so much for your request! I was planning for this to be a short one, but I got carried away...

Sweeter Than Fiction | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!reader

Summary: You get a new book to learn Braille and Matt is curious about what you're ready (because why is this book getting more attention than he does?)

Word Count: 4.2k (how???)

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, this is Matt we're talking about, slight voyeurism (?), slight Dom!Matt, not proofread

A/n: I have no words. My inner whore took over.

You’ve always admired how Matt navigates the world even with one of the most crucial senses missing. After he told you about the accident and how his other senses were heightened beyond average capacity, you thought he meant it in a way that made up for his loss of sight, but you soon realized you were wrong. 

Matt had to learn how to blindly navigate his way in the world just like any other blind person. He goes out at night to fight criminals, sure, and he has an impeccable way of knowing your body’s every quirk due to his enhanced hearing and sense of smell, but beneath all of that, he is still blind and he needs his world more accessible than you do. 

When you moved in together, you made sure not to disturb his system. He labels the jars in the kitchen and the food containers in the fridge. You got used to it, and now even add labels to your leftovers so he knows what you had–to be fair, that is something he can use his other senses for, but it makes it easier for him when he’s too tired to focus.

But it doesn’t stop there. 

You make sure everything always goes back to where it was, even when it comes to clothes. You told him where you keep your things and developed a system that fits you both best, and you made your world more accessible for him as your universes merged, and now you’re living together in perfect harmony. 

You would point out things to him whenever you go out, and he would listen to your detailed descriptions. Your voice has always been the most beautiful sound on earth to him, and he hears a lot of things every day. A lot of cruel things, too. You’re not like that. You’re not harsh or annoying, you’re calm and just perfect.

He gets lost in you, not just the sound of your voice. Even sweeter than your voice though is the way your body responds to him, and he makes sure to use every last trick up his sleeves to satisfy all four of his working senses, and all five of yours. 

Sex with Matt is phenomenal. He pays close attention to detail and he knows what buttons to push to drive you crazy, and he shamelessly uses his heightened senses to his advantage every time you’re together. That also means your love life never gets boring. You can be sweet and gentle, but sometimes you indulge in the most primal needs that drive you, and you lose yourselves in each other. 

A few weeks ago, you told Matt that you wanted to learn Braille. He was taken aback at first; Braille itself is complex to learn, but you are always eager to broaden your horizons, and when you told him that you desperately want to understand some of the things he reads with his fingers, he caved. You want to do this for him, and the love you show him is almost too much for his scarred little heart. 

You have been busy for days now, your mind reeling with the alphabet and the different sensations under your fingers as you navigate the Braille book you bought to learn the letters. After that, you started experimenting with his Braille typewriter, and once you felt comfortable enough to read something a lot more… challenging, you decided to put your newfound knowledge to the test. 

Braille may be complicated, but you feel so much better about yourself now that you can keep up with Matt. You’re not as fast and you still mess up some words, but even he told you that you’re getting there, and he showered you in kisses and ‘I love you’ for your effort. But you want to do it. You want to learn, and you want to do it for him because you have never loved a man more than him. 

The book you found is a little unconventional, to say the least. You’re not sure how long it’s going to take Matt to find out, but you found the ad online and you ordered it because it is the kind of book you like, even though you haven’t read one of these in Braille before. 

Matt is good in bed; you’re not lacking anything, and you know that if you’re desperate, all you have to do is spread your legs and he’s between them in seconds, even when he’s currently halfway across the city. He always comes when you need him, physically and emotionally, and that’s what makes your relationship so much fun. 

You didn’t buy this particular book because you’re lacking something in your sex life–you could have just watched porn if that was the case–you were simply interested in how it would be to read something a little more erotic than the teaching books Matt left you with, and so you bought it. 

Amazon delivered it on the first day after ordering it, and you opened it while Matt was in court, probably arguing his way through every case, charming every juror, and intimidating the prosecution–you can only imagine his demanding tone and the way he stands with his hands on his hips, showing that Matt Murdock does not live to mess around. He does everything with precision, and it makes you clench your thighs when you think about it again.

Surprisingly, the book is easy to read, and it is good. Your fingers trace the delicate dots on the paper, your eyes closed as you visualize the scenes. With every sentence, the need in your lower stomach grows. You’re lost in another world, and you’re oh-so-horny. 

Matt comes home triumphant with another win under his belt, but he’s tired from being on his feet for so long, and he barely had any chance to eat or had coffee today, so his body is in a weird state. He needs rest and sustenance, but most of all, he needs you. Not in a sexual sense, at least not yet, he just needs some kisses, a hug, and attention. 

After some time with you, you made it mandatory for him to ask for what he wants, and while he still struggles with that sometimes, he’s grown to love your affectionate nature, and he allows you to take care of him whenever he needs it. 

That’s where you seem to have heightened senses; when it comes to his well-being, you’re always the first to recognize the signs and act accordingly.

He’s so in love, he could burst, and it makes him the happiest he has ever been.

Stepping through the door, he listens for your heartbeat. It’s slightly elevated, but nothing serious. You’re sitting on the couch, your fingers gliding over the paper, and he figures you’re learning your daily dose of Braille again. 

He only notices the slight change in the atmosphere when he drops his bag and removes his jacket to feel the air in the apartment. He takes a deep breath. Usually, you smell of his body wash and soap and some kind of flower or vanilla, but today something else seems to dominate your naturally perfect scent. And it shoots straight to his cock.

You flinch a little when he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your shoulders. His head is buried in your neck. He wasn’t wrong; the air is thick with the sweet and metallic tang of your arousal, and he licks his lip to taste it. Whatever your fingers are gliding over, it isn’t one of his textbooks. 

Still, he doesn’t act, he just relishes your warmth. He waits. You sometimes forget he can smell you and hear the changes in your heartbeat and the distant pulse between your legs when you’re aroused. It makes things more fun, but today it doesn’t seem to be because of him that you’re horny, and it makes him frown a little.

He wants to have your attention, not that stupid book. 

You cradle his cheek, but your eyes remain glued on the pages before you, which is ironic because they’re just dots, he knows that better than anyone, and yet you’re very focused on that text. 

“Hi,” you murmur. “How was your day?”

“Alright,” Matt replies, snuggling closer. “Just very long.”

The dramatic sigh goes right over your head. “Maybe you should take a shower then,” you suggest. “There’s leftovers in the fridge that you can eat.”

His lips press to your cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

You are still not putting the book down.

“Take a shower with me,” he’s pulling all the registers, but you still won’t budge.

“Already did,” you say. 

He interrupted you during the best scene in the book so far, and that’s what you want to get back to. 

Matt’s lips move to your neck. “Then take another,” he says.

“My hair will get greasy.”

“Tie it up.”

“No.”

He pouts. Since when has he become worth less than a book? One that gets you wet, no less.

He gets jealous easily, he would never deny that, but he thought he would be better than a book. He never thought he could be envious of one, either, or of the language he had to learn how to read because he lost his eyesight. He never thought he’d see the day he would become envious of a few pages with dots on them, but he is, and when you happily indulge back into your back while he gets ready to shower, passing you half-naked and still not eliciting a reaction, he gets frustrated.

He makes a plan.

The next day, you’re at work, and he has some time to spare. The paperwork is done and Foggy sent him home earlier while you texted him you had to work late, and that he could cook or order food and you would just warm it up after. 

He makes his way to your side of the bed and grabs the book you took with you last night. 

“Let’s see how good you really are,” he says to himself. 

Matt always thought you to be a person with impeccable taste, but he never thought it would extend to your choice of erotica books. He’s never read the ones you usually keep around–he can’t read them, obviously–but this one, he can read, and his breath gets stuck in his lungs.

He’s done the things you’re reading about, but it still sends a flush straight to his cheeks. The rest of his blood instantly travels between his legs.

It’s not the story itself or the words, it’s the faintest scent of your arousal still lingering on the paper, and suddenly you’re right next to him, whispering these sweet words into his ear, and his hand finds its way into his slacks he hasn’t yet taken off. 

The smell of your pussy gets him high. You taste as sweet as you smell, and if he could dive deeper every time he eats you out, he would. He has explored every inch of you he can, but it can’t ever be enough, not with you. 

His hand turns into yours as he traces his fingers over the pages wildly. He’s so painfully hard; all he had to do was think about you spread out on the bed like the lady in the book, your nails raking over his skin and your cunt hugging his cock as he pounds into you hard like the man in the book does, and he’s done for.

He can’t control himself. He knows it’s wrong because it’s not just the text, it’s you he’s jerking off to like a teenage boy, but you smell so good, the memory of your voice sounds so sweet, and he can’t help but imagine the feel of your body as he works himself higher and higher and higher with his own fist until his cock aches and his balls tense up with his impending orgasm–and then it is roughly taken from him as reality seeps back in.

And it is your fault. 

“So that’s why you were so needy last night,” you say. Your voice isn’t quivering. You’re not shocked.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you lean against the doorframe to the bedroom, and your eyes trail over your boyfriend’s disheveled frame. His cock is hard, weeping in his hand. There is pre-cum everywhere. His thighs are shaking, and the orgasm that had been building fades away. His fist doesn’t loosen, but his eyes point in your general direction as shock and embarrassment flood his cheeks. 

He looks beautiful with his cock in his hand. You’re desperate to reach out and help because he hasn’t done anything bad, has he? But then you look at the book–your book–he’s tracing his deliciously thick and calloused fingers over, and you click your tongue.

You should have known he wouldn’t let it slide that easily that you got off from a book while he was so obviously desperate the night before. 

Matt swallows. “You were so wet,” he says, his voice sounding more like a growl than a husky whisper. “You were so wet, I could smell you the second I got in the door.”

“And when you realized it wasn’t you who got me so wet?” you question. 

The mattress dips until your weight as you crawl toward him. 

He tosses the book aside. “I was jealous,” he admits. He meets you halfway in the middle of the bed, his face close to yours now. 

“Jealous?” you ask.

“Yeah, jealous.”

“Of a book?”

“Can you blame me?”

You bite your lip when he smirks at you like a devil – the devil of Hell’s Kitchen, that’s who he is, and he is yours. Always, forever, but especially right now.

He manages to look adorable yet irresistible every time; you can’t help but stare back at his cock. It’s still hard, just resting against his stomach, and he has no shame. He knows what he’s doing to you. But you’re also not having a much different effect on him, it seems, because when you reach for his face and press your lips together, he moans.

His nerves are on fire. Even the simple act of kissing manages to shoot straight to his throbbing cock, and your hands are magical as they work through his hair next, along his scalp, and down his neck where you only seem to pull him closer into you. 

He flips you over so you’re on your back underneath him. “Tell me,” he says between gentle nips to your neck, “What exactly turned you on so much about that book to get you so fucking wet without even touching yourself?” 

You want to snap at him that he was getting off on it too just as you came in, but then his hand slips into your pants and your underwear, and you moan instead. 

“And you’re wet again,” it’s a statement he makes as he smirks into your neck, his fingers parting your slick folds and testing the waters. You’re soaking, he can tell, but he already smelled it when he flipped you over. 

You arch your back into his touch, chasing more friction. He complies. His middle finger starts circling your clit. “Did watching me jerk off get you so desperate?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you breathe. 

“Oh, you’re dirty, aren’t you?” 

“Matt–“

He kisses you to shut you up, his middle finger speeding up. He paints the most colorful masterpieces over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Matt plays your body like a fiddle, and your moans are the melody. 

“What was your favorite part?”

“What?”

“The book,” he asks, “What was your favorite part?” His finger slips from your clit, between your folds, and right to your entrance. “Was it this–” 

Your eyes roll back when he inserts the first finger into your tight cunt. 

“Or when he did that–” Matt slides another finger in, curling them up at the same time to brush your G-spot. 

Your lips part in a lewd moan. “Fuck!” Your fist tightens around the silk sheets. “Matt, please…” 

He keeps fingering you at an agonizingly slow pace, just like the scene in the book, but he puts the cherry on top when he ghosts his thumb over your clit. 

“What was it?” he asks, head dipping to capture your lips. “Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me and I’ll show you something sweeter than fiction.”

His silver tongue will be the death of you one day in more ways than one. 

He thrusts his finger faster now, slowly reaching the pace you yearn for. With every thrust, he massages the spongy spot inside of you just right, and you’re moaning and whimpering beneath him as he works you closer and closer to the edge within minutes. 

He knows your body inside and out, and you fall victim to his games every time. He wants to hear the cacophony of your moans; he thrives off of hearing the effect he has on you, and yet it’s never enough. He wants more. He’s greedy. He wants to listen to you moan and scream for him until your voice is hoarse, the sheets are soaked and your pussy is stuffed to the brim with his cum. He’s only satisfied then, but it doesn’t last long because as soon as he smells you again, he will worship at your feet all over again until you’re a cockdrunk mess and can’t walk straight for a week. 

Your eyes fall on the book that’s now on the floor, his lips ruthlessly attacking your neck, his fingers moving faster and faster and faster–your orgasm is about to crash in, but you manage to cry out, “Page fifty-eight!”

Matt stops, pulling away slightly to feel your eyes on him. His hazel eyes turn black. “Is that so?” he asks. 

You nod. 

“Alright…” He pulls his fingers out of you. 

You scramble to get out of your clothes while he does the same, but he’s impatient, and soon enough your shirt is a ripped mess on the floor, and he’s towering over you again.

Your hands trail over his chiseled torso and the many scars that never fail to fill you with wonder for the man he is, the wars he fought, and the battles he survives, and you take a moment to feel each other up. It’s always like this; no matter how intense it gets between you in bed, the first few seconds are spent with you touching each other, feeling the goosebumps you cause on each other’s skin, and only when you’re fully satisfied in that regard do you focus on what other needs you find brewing within you.

He kisses you hard, his hand wrapping around your neck possessively, and he pulls you closer. You moan. His tongue slides into your mouth. You surrender to his control. 

His large hand keeps your thighs spread wide open as he thrusts his cock into you. He doesn’t wait; like on page fifty-eight, he thrusts into you, and he throws your leg over his shoulder without a warning or a moment to adjust.

You wrap the other leg around his waist. The pace he keeps is brutal, and your breath gets stuck in your throat as you let out a lustful cry, followed by a string of curses because damn him for knowing exactly what to do. 

This is better than anything you could possibly read. The angle is perfection, and with every hard thrust, he buries his cock to the hilt inside of you. He fills you up to the brim, and every time he pulls out, he makes sure to drive back in just as fast. 

Tears are streaming down your cheeks, but you don’t want him to stop. He keeps stroking the fire inside your belly. Your head is void of any thoughts. His moans reach your ears, and you clench around him; he always sounds so sweet when he’s being vocal for you, showing you he’s enjoying this as much as you are, and it encourages you to let every last sound tumble from your lips. 

Skin slaps against skin in the dimly light bedroom. The silk of the sheets sticks to your sweaty body. Matt hoists you up suddenly as he gets on his knees, and that wasn’t in the book, but he still pulls you forward to meet his cock ruthlessly. Your back arches so far, you feel like you’re floating. Luckily, he thinks about putting a pillow underneath to make it more comfortable for you. Though it’s not the ache in your muscle you can focus on. 

Your walls contract, hugging him even tighter, and the way he throbs sends shivers down your spine at the same time his moans cause your body to shiver even more. 

The coil in your stomach is so tight, and with every thrust, it keeps growing bigger and bigger and bigger until the glass is threatening to overflow. He doesn’t look like he intends on stopping, and when you open your eyes, the sight is enough to make you convulse underneath him. 

His head is thrown back. You’re half-resting on his muscular thighs. With every thrust of his cock into your tight cunt, his abs tense up. The light falls upon his body, and he’s glowing brightly in the colorful serenade of the billboard outside. He thrusts harder and harder, and his muscles do the lord’s work in stimulating you. He’s absolutely divine, and you could stare at him forever without getting sick of him. Especially sweaty, with his eyebrows furrowed and lost so deep in pleasure as the noise of the world fades into the background, he looks ephemeral. You want to stay like this with him forever. 

His hand splays across your stomach, pushing down where his cock seems to be, and the added pressure makes you clench down on him so tight, you’re sure you might burst any second now. Feeling his cock bulge your belly is too much. 

His thumb rubs rapid circles over your clit, and his pace falters. He falls back over you, hugging your thigh around his waist as he turns to deeper strokes, and you try to lean into his touch as much as you can, meeting his thrusts. 

Your jaw slacks, moaning into his ear. He kisses you in return, his hand coming back to rest around your neck, and your vision blurs with the pressure in every part of your body. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he grunts, “I know you want to. C’mon, come for me.”

You tangle your hand in the pillow above your head, the other digging into the skin of his back and surely drawing blood, but it’s all you can do when the full power of the held-back orgasm crashes into you, and all lights go out. 

Your body convulses, your walls flutter uncontrollably around him, and you are sure that your scream echoes in the room and reaches your neighbor’s apartment, but it feels too good not the let the world know the name of the man who is making you feel like heaven and hell at the same time, driving you over the edge like a man on a mission–because that is precisely what he is. 

His fingers dig into your thighs, leaving their marks, as do his lips on your neck. He grunts as your orgasm washes over you. He fucks you through it, the tightness engulfing his cock just right, and with one last hard thrust to your G-spot, his legs shake and he comes too, his hot seed spilling into your needy cunt as you take all he can humanly give you, sounds, liquids and all. 

You find his lips, swallowing his moan of your name. The kiss is more a clashing of teeth and tongue instead of anything else, but the closeness is exactly what you both need. 

Matt fucks his cum deep into you as he always does, making sure not a single drop is spent, and only when you’re about to squirm away from the overstimulation, he stops stroking your clit and stops thrusting, and he drops on you. 

Your lungs open to grasp a deep breath. “Holy shit!” you choke out. 

He takes a moment to return to his body. The world spins until it doesn’t, and he can finally move his limbs again. Your heartbeat coaxes him back to consciousness, allowing him to lift his head and relish in the way your hands cup his sweaty face. 

He’s never himself after sex, it takes a few minutes, and you’re more than ready to be the one to coax him through the aftershocks. You always do. 

“You okay?” you ask him softly.

He nods. “Fuck,” is all he can say. 

“Yeah.”

You cradle his head in the crook of your neck. Silence settles back in between you. 

“I love you,” he whispers. 

You smile, pressing a kiss on his scalp. “And I love you,” you answer. 

Another beat of silence passes. “Oh,” he says, and you can feel him smile against your collarbone this time when he tells you, “Next time you read porn, make sure to tell me exactly what you’re reading so we can do that again.”

A chuckle passes your lips. “Oh, Matty,” you stroke his hair, “That can be arranged.”

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @lina-mar @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky

[britany1997]

Hot Vampires In Your Area

Hope y’all enjoy the long awaited third and final part to Vampires Everywhere, sorry it took me so long lol

Vampires Everywhere, Hot Vampires In Your Area

Reblog & comment to support my writing💕

Poly! Lost boys x GN Vampire Reader

Warnings: SMUT minors DNI, readers sex not mentioned, riding, biting, mentions of anal sex, slight daddy kink (Dwayne is daddy always), riding, voyeurism, blow job, some aftercare

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

The boys clamored down into their cave with you in tow. The bike ride home had reinvigorated your spirits, and you were already attached to Marko’s lips, kissing him passionately.

He moaned into your mouth as you bit his lip and pulled. They liked to play rough, but so did you.

He growled, pushing you up against the cave wall and pressing sloppy kisses down your jaw and the skin of your neck. You leaned your head back against the wall and smiled blissfully as your hands found their place in his hair.

You pulled him from your neck, tilting his face till his eyes were locked on your own. You stared into his intimately, taking in the sight of his blown pupils and elongated fangs.

If that wasn’t enough proof of his arousal, the pressing against your thigh certainly was. You smirked, before reattaching your lips to his.

They way they wanted you was intoxicating. They permeated through your thoughts, and clouded your mind with visions of them and the pleasure they gave you. You’d never felt so desirable.

“Ahem.”

The sound of a throat being cleared pulled you from your daze as both your head and Marko’s snapped to an impatient Paul, his arms crossed and his pants embarrassingly tight. He was tapping his foot with his eyebrow raised.

You shouldn’t have, but the sight prompted a soft laugh to fall from your lips. The blond boy’s desperation for you did terrible things for your ego.

Paul pouted in reply, a red tinge springing to his cheeks.

Marko rolled his eyes as you traded his arms for Paul’s. “Didn’t mean it like that Paulie,” you assured as you kissed him softly and stroked his cheeks.

“Thought you forgot about me baby,” his pout deepened as his hands snaked around to the small of your back, pulling you into his chest,

David and Dwayne looked on in amusement as Paul dialed up his dramatics.

“Dontcha want me baby?” he gave you his best puppy dog eyes, “I want you, I need you baby. please?”

You stared into his watery baby blues, god he was pretty, “but I promised David Paulie, what about him?”

David snorted from his place on the couch, prompting your gaze to shift to his. He smirked, “let me watch Paulie wreck you babe, then, when you’re all whimpery and shaky…” he chuckled to himself at the lustful expression you wore, “then I’ll give you the best night of your eternal life.” He winked.

God he was smug. You loved it.

“Make a mess Paulie,” David teased.

The wind was knocked out of you as the excited blond vampire wrapped his hands around your legs and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you in the direction is his bedroom, the other boys hot on his heels.

Paul set you down on the bed and rid himself of his clothes frantically. You probably would have chuckled to yourself at his excitement, if you hadn’t been hypothesized by the sight of his pretty cock.

You bit your lip and looked up, only to be met with his smirking face. He pulled you into his lap and kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue into your mouth and exploring you.

As Paul began to kiss down your chest, you scanned the room, moaning softly at the sight of the other boys.

While David sat in Paul’s ratty bean bag, stroking himself, Marko and Dwayne were much less patient.

The picture of Marko pressed against the wall of the cave while Dwayne slid in and out of him, combined with Paul’s teeth sucking mark after mark into your skin forced a low moan from your throat.

Paul squeezed your thigh roughly. You gasped and your head turned towards him. “Eyes on me baby,” he growled as he pushed into you slowly.

You threw your head back in ecstasy at the stretch of him. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders as he held you in his lap.

Paul caged his arms around you pressing you against his chest as he thrust up into you roughly, pulling moans and gasps from your lips.

His fangs began to elongate as his eyes flashed yellow. “Wanted to keep you ya know?” he growled. “The boys were sooo hungry, but I wanted ya, from the moment I saw you in Max’s store I wanted to have you so bad. But I don’t make the choices round here, thought it was a damn waste too.”

You whimpered as you bounced in his lap.

“But now you’re mine baby, and I am gonna keep you.” He squeezed your hips roughly, making you gasp, “you’re ours.”

You moaned at his words as you felt yourself quickly approaching your orgasm.

He reached down to stroke you roughly. “Say it. Say you’re ours while you cum for me baby. Say you belong to us.”

“I’m yours! I’m all yours,” you screamed in pleasure as you came all over him,

He growled before leaning forward and sinking his teeth into your shoulder as he spilled into you. He pulled back, kissing and licking at the mark he’d placed on you. “Ours. All ours.”

You whimpered as you came down from your high and pondered his words. Your tough exterior had melted into a puddle in Paul’s arms. From that moment your hands met in Max’s video store, you were theirs. You just hadn’t known it then.

Paul laid you back on the bed and kissed you softly. “You ok?” he asked as he stroked your cheek. You nodded and smiled as you leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his lips.

He smiled as he returned your affections.

You were pulled from the sweet moment with Paul by the sound of Dwayne’s grunting as he continued to push into Marko. You bit your lip.

The cries and moans that fell from Marko’s lips confirmed that Dwayne hadn’t been lying when he’d told you that all the boys called him daddy.

Your cheeks flushed as David came to your side on the bed, cock in one hand as the other pulled you to his mouth by the back of your head. You whimpered into the kiss.

Paul kissed and bit at your shoulder on your other side, reaching down to part your thighs and stroke softly.

David pulled away to suck on your earlobe and your gaze shifted back to Marko and Dwayne.

Marko screamed daddy as Dwayne finished inside him. Marko pressed against the wall, and Dwayne pressed into him to the hilt. You bit your lip to keep from moaning. The boys to your side, the boys in front of you, it was almost too much.

David laughed to himself as his lips moved to the shell of your ear. “Does that turn you on babe? Dwayne’s a big boy isn’t he?” you whimpered, “do you wish that was you baby? Want to feel him again?” You fought back another moan.

David smirked, “but you already had him tonight didn’t you baby, don’t want to be greedy do you?”

You gasped, your head snapping to face his, “‘m not greedy,” you pouted.

He mock pouted in reply, “really? Well I am, get on your knees for me baby?”

You nodded before turning to give Paul one last kiss. You sat on your knees while David’s stroked himself in front of your face. He wasn’t as long as Paul, but he was thicker, and he had a vein that stretched all across the length of him. The sight made you salivate.

“You gonna be good for me babe? Don’t like brats.”

You smirked up at him, “liar,” you whispered.

He returned your smirk, “just be good,” he commanded as he pulled your face forward.

You wrapped your lips around his tip and swirled your tongue. You moaned as David moved your head forward, pressing more of him into your mouth.

“Such a dirty mouth for such a nice face baby, anyone else get to see you like this?”

You gently shook your head no, before you ran your tongue along his vein, prompting a low growl to fall from his mouth. You smiled with your mouth full, as he continued to move your head back and forth.

“Bein so good baby,” David praised, “just let me take what I want from you.”

You hollowed out your cheeks, totally content to let him use you.

When David’s movements became less and less frequent, and his breathing grew heavy, you leaned forward to take as much of him into your mouth as you could. You could feel him grazing the back of your throat, causing a muffled moan to spring from your lips.

Your attentions pushed him over the edge, but before he could come down your throat, he pulled out to paint your face.

Your hand came up to wipe cum from your nose. “Good aim,” you joked.

He laughed, “don’t worry baby, we’ll clean you up real nice. Dwayne,” he ordered, snapping for him.

He turned back to you, “have a good night?” David asked, eyebrow raised.

“Best yet,” you admitted.

He smiled and pulled you in for a kiss, you moaned into his mouth as you realized he could taste himself on your lips.

When you pulled away from David, Dwayne sat beside you with a wet washcloth, wiping your face and pulling you into his lap.

You blushed, “Dwayne, thank you…I’m uh,” you contemplated how to phrase your next words.

Thankfully you didn’t need to say anything at all. “I know baby,” he assured you, “night’s nearly over anyway, but we’ll have plenty more together yeah?” He asked as he held you in his lap.

You smiled as the four of them looked at you expectantly, “yeah,” you promised as you nodded off, pressed against Dwayne’s chest.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Taglist❤️:

@6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @pixielostboy @ghoulgeousimmaculate @anna1306 @solobagginses @peachpixiesstuff @consuming-karma @flower-crowned-lady @warrior-616 @bloodywickedvamp @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @paulxbathbomd @dwaynesluscioushair @vampirefilmlover @feardot-com @its-freaking-bats @ria-coolgirl @besas-stuff @miseryharvester @lostboys1987girl @dwaynedelight @mickkmaiden333 @kurt-nightcrawler @bitchyexpertprincess @arenpath

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕊𝕚𝕩: 𝔸𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕞/𝕊𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝔻𝕖𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

🥀Pairing: Beta! Mingi x Alpha! Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact 

🥀Au: a/b/o au, werewolf au, supernatural au

🥀Trope: poly, established relationship

🥀Summary: one the full moon, you play a game of Find and Fuck, where you hunt down Mingi with only the sound of his noises as he masturbates

🥀Kinks: auralism, sensory deprivation, Dom! reader, sub! mingi, background poly ot8, masturbation (m), cock ring pussy (it'll make sense just wait), getting tied up/restrained

🥀Word Count: 1,243

🥀Betas: @mejuii

🥀Day Five: Dacryphilia 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Seven: Voyeurism

You could hear Mingi masturbating, like a siren call to your senses. The lewd skin slapping noises as his cock fucked his hand had you wet in anticipation. But it was the choked moans, that deep voice echoing in the empty castle, desperately calling for you, that made you struggle in your chains. 

“This is fun,” Wooyoung said in a stage whisper to Yeosang. The other wolf hushed Wooyoung, who made a face of his fun being ruined. 

“Turn the hourglass,” Seonghwa instructed. “Heart, you have exactly ten minutes to break your chains and fuck Mingi. And if you’re not able to do so…”

Hongjoong chuckled darkly. “Then you have to suffer and watch as we have our fun with him.”

Jongho nudged San in the ribs. “Wish you had pulled the short straw tonight, huh, old son?” The younger provoked the older wolf. San silently snarled back.

It was the night of a full moon, but instead of being tortured and pulling your clothes apart to be free in your wolf form, your pack played a game. “Find and Fuck” is what Yunho crudely called it but really it was a game of strength and skill. The beta’s of the pack volunteer if they wish to play, consenting to  being the prey for the night--and all the sex afterwards. As the predator, you need to break free from the titanium steel chains, and with only your sense of hearing, you were to track down your ‘prey’. Tonight it was Mingi and now you knew why; everyone in the damned ruins would be able to hear that wolf while he pleasured himself. 

You focused inward, connecting with your wolf side and poured that supernatural strength into your human body. The links on the chain began to groan in protest. But it still wasn’t enough. 

To make matters worse, Mingi was getting more and more vocal. “Oh, yeah, Heart.” With your evolved hearing, you could even hear his frenzied swallowing. “Fuck me just like that, yeah, you feel so good, hnnnnn, fuck, squeeze me just like that.”

You growled deeply, making the chains twinkle to the vibrations. “I’ll show you squeeze.”

“Time’s ticking,” Yunho taunted you.

“Just thinking about those plush lips around my cock is getting me hard,” Yeosang commented. 

“Oh yeah mmmmmm gonna cum, gonna cum for you Heart,” Mingi cried out, “Make a mess of me, make me squirt inside of you, hnnnn, that’s it--yesssssss.”

That was the last straw, with a howl, your head cast back, you broke the chains and then you were dashing down the hallway. You’re practically skidding around corners, banging into the walls and then launching yourself more. You follow the beautiful moans of Mingi until you finally locate him in a room where the roof caved in and the moonlight focused on Mingi, making him glow. There was a blindfold around his head, empowering his anticipation of either you finding him--or the other’s gangbanging him. 

“Heart!” Mingi, who clearly caught wind of your smell, smiled lazily at your approach. You saw his cum all over his hand and the ground. 

You didn’t know how much time was left in the hourglass but you needed to get Mingi inside of you as quickly as possible. You grabbed his wrist and yanked him upwards. Naked for everyone's pleasure, Mingi gasped when his ass kissed the cool stone of the castle ruins. You took his wrist and pinned it above his head. You then used your free hand to grab his cock and then crooked your leg around his waist. Your underwear was impatiently pushed to the side so that you could take Mingi’s length within you. 

“I love it when you’re rough with me,” Mingi admitted.

“Because you’re a little beta whore,” You growled.

Mingi’s tip was barely inside of you when you started to rock your hips to work him into you. He moaned loudly and you could hear a hoot from the other side of the castle. You must have arrived within the ten minutes you had been allotted. 

You pushed Mingi’s face towards his arm being pinned against the wall and then started to nose his neck. Mingi always smelled like the deep scent of the evergreen tree to you, accompanied by the sweetness of the citrus fruits. He was clean and fresh and simply delectable. 

You squeezed your cunt around Mingi, pulling fresh moans from his plush lips. “Heart!” he cried out for you.

“I’m going to make you cum so many times, Mingi, you’re going to be begging me to stop,” You threatened.

“Hhhhnnn,” Mingi whined, “Don’t threaten--oh fuck--me with a--yes, just like that!--good time!”

You bite down on Mingi’s shoulder, careful to not draw blood, but enough to make his dick twitch inside of you. You growled and then uttered, “Mine,” against his skin.

“Oh, yes, make me yours,” Mingi begged. You expected him to act out, to buck up into your heat, but his ass stayed against the stone’s, like a good little beta was supposed to. He wasn’t like San or Wooyoung. 

There was a rope hanging from some broken rafters, and quickly wrapped them around both of Mingi’s wrists. Then you grabbed the rope to hold your weight as you braced both of your feet against the wall and started to work overtime. The new lewd noises of your ass against Mingi’s pelvis was exactly what you wanted.

But the deep, desperate noises of Mingi’s, the small puffs of air hitting your neck as he buried his face there, that was truly what kept you going. The fact that your beta couldn't shut up about how fucking good it felt while you fucked him urged you on. 

Mingi truly was the perfect submissive for an alpha. 

“Oh shit,” Seonghwa hissed as he entered the room. 

“I told you she was going to be fucking him into tomorrow,” San sulked.

“Don’t make him raw,” Hongjoong cautioned you.

“Fuck off,” You cursed at the other alpha. 

As your own orgasm approached, Mingi’s long cock hitting that good good spot inside of you, your female alpha anatomy kicked in: a ring of your vaginal muscles clamped down on Mingi, to stop him from ejaculating inside of you. You were an alpha, not a body to be bred, but to rule. So this was nature’s response to halt such progress. 

You howled again, your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. The pleasure washed over you, and soon all you could hear was your own heavy breathing and Mingi’s disappointed whimpers. 

“C-can I still cum?” Mingi softly kissed your neck, begging, pleading with you. 

Eventually your ring of tight muscles released Mingi, and still he held himself in place. You carefully untied him and climbed down. Yunho approached behind you and you sent him a look of warning. He was not about to claim your prize when you had won the contest. 

You pulled off the blindfold around Mingi’s head and felt a need to take care of the beta. His eyes were so very big and pleading. You ruffled his hair. “I’ll let you cum in my mouth, how about that?”

Mingi’s face broke out into a sunshine grin. “Really?!”

“A good beta should always be rewarded,” You replied.

Mingi folded himself into your body, and you were thankful for your supernatural strength. “You’re the best,” he whispered in your ear.

“Hey,” Yeosang protested half heartedly, “We heard that.”

🥀Day Five: Dacryphilia 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Seven: Voyeurism