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lilgarbitch · 1 day

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Touch, Torture, and Tattoos- Nicholas Ruffilo (One shot)

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x Reader

CW: tattoos/ description of getting one, bit of shitty plot, lots of dirty filthy evil smut 🤭, SassySubby!Nick (more like bratty switch), unprotected p in v(naughty lil fuckers), creampie, cockwarming???, my shitty writing 🫶🏻

Word Count: 10.8k👀

Author’s Note: Just a quick lil thing. Don’t ask what came over me to make this. Just know that I’m not to blame😇 (i wrote the smut before the plot so the opening is ass ngl)

Viewer discretion is advised. 18+

You sat in the slightly uncomfortable metal chair of the tattoo shop, trying to entertain yourself on your phone. Nick was quiet as he focused on the leg of the client in front of him, not wanting to make any mistakes, so you made sure you did your best not to distract him.

The boys had time this week to relax and do what they wanted, for once not having to be in the studio or travel for an interview, so you happily accepted their invitation to spend time with them since you haven’t had the chance to see them in a while.

The group and you mainly hung out at their house, either watching movies, swimming, making a mess in the kitchen, or chatting about how life used to be before they got big. It was nice that they finally had time to just relax and have fun in the mix of their busy schedules. And you were definitely happy that you were finally able to see Nick again. You had a crush on him for as long as you could remember, instantly being attracted to his humor and his gorgeous looks, but pushed the feelings away once they started getting busier, knowing that there wasn’t even time for a relationship, even if he felt the same. But that didn’t stop the feelings from slowly resurfacing and becoming more than just a crush every time you had the opportunity to spend time with him.

Every time all of you hung out, your attention always seemed to fall on him more than the rest. Even when watching a movie, your eyes always trailed towards him. You never made it obvious, though. You did your best to treat them all the same, treating them like brothers. The last thing you needed was to make it awkward, or even worse, create so much tension you couldn’t see them anymore. But the tension that had been building inside of you was becoming torture.

Nick had known of this break for a while now. Itching to get back into tattooing, he asked a friend of his if he could use his studio for a day, then asked around if anyone was looking to get a piece done. He had two offers, and you happily told him that you were willing to get another. Not that you weren’t always down to get a new tattoo, but you mainly offered so you could spend more time with him. You loved spending time with the boys, and absolutely enjoyed hanging out with all of them, but when a rare chance came to get alone time with Nick, you just had to take it.

You two had been here since early this morning. He told you that you didn’t have to come in until later in the day, but almost seemed sad to say, like he regretted spending most of his free day away from you. But with the offer of being the errand runner and grabbing us lunch, he happily obliged. Not that he needed any convincing, but he had to pretend like he felt bad making you spend half the day doing nothing but sitting in the shop with him.

Your attention gets pulled from your phone as his client stood up and walked to the mirror to check out their new tattoo. Nick chatted with them for a few minutes, getting payment set up and wishing them a good day as they left, pleased with the new piece of art on their body.

He walked over and sat down in the chair by you, stretching his back after being hunched over for an hour.

“I love doing this, but god, does my body hate it,” he mumbled as he stretched his arms over his head. A small sliver of skin caught your eyes as his shirt raised with him, but you quickly blinked away any inappropriate thoughts and looked back up at him just in time for him to settle and glance at you.

“So, you ready?” he asked, clapping his hands together with a smile on his face. You couldn’t help but match his smile.

“Always,” you said as you stood up from your chair.

He stood and walked over to where he had your piece already drawn out and prepared on a stencil. You two had been shooting ideas back and forth for the last few days, and eventually landed getting a skeleton hand. One of the few remaining spots you had open on your skin was on your rib, right below your breast, so you decided that getting the hand to fit the curvature of your body would look pretty cool.

He grabbed the stencil and walked over to you, so you lifted your shirt, holding it right below your bra. He eyed the space of blank skin, then held the stencil up to it. After a few moments of him lining it up perfectly, he finally placed it. You both walked over to the mirror so you could check the placement. After turning your body a few times, making sure you liked where it was, you told him it was perfect.

You walked over to the bed and laid down, tucking your shirt under your slightly lifted bra, and angling your body in a way where the stencil could be easily worked on. He set up his table with everything he needed and then got himself sat and pulled up next to you, ready to start.

“All good to go?” he asked, making sure you were officially ready to start, and you nodded.

You did your best to relax, but tattoos in this area were hard not to focus on. So you mentally prepared yourself as he reached out and held your side and brought the needle to your skin. But the sensation of his touch completely overpowered the pain of the needle.

All you could focus on as he began working was the way his gloved hand held and pulled at your skin. You didn’t know if you were glad that you didn’t have to focus on the needles, or if this feeling was much worse. He was touching such a sensitive area, and you had to try your hardest not to blush or react in any way.

His finger grazed against your skin, causing you to shiver. He stopped and looked up at you with a concerned look.

“You okay?” he asked, assuming that was because he just went right over bone. Knowing you’d just stammer your words, you nodded.

But your eyes locked onto his as he looked up at you, and your mind went blank. The look of concern mixed with something you could distinguish in his pretty blue eyes fueled a fire inside you that you needed to extinguish as fast as possible. You blinked and turned your head away, trying to get that look out of your mind. He finally went back to working on your tattoo, and you forced yourself to focus on the pain, needing it as a distraction.

After about an hour of grueling torture, him constantly being so sweet, and you forcing yourself to keep your mind off him and on the needles repeatedly hitting your skin, he finally finished.

“Let me just wipe one more time and then you can go check it out,” he said as he scooted his chair back and grabbed the green soap.

“Okay,” you said, sighing a breath of relief. It wasn’t over just yet, but you finally had a break from the torture.

He came back over, gave you one last wipe, and then moved back, giving you room to stand so you could check it out.

You walked over to the mirror and eyed your new piece, a smile forming on your face. It was really good. Not that you hadn’t expected it to be, but it was thankfully worth being so close to him for an hour straight.

“I love it,” you said with a smile, turning to him. His eyes snapped up from your body and to your face, almost as if he had been caught staring, and he mirrored your smile.

“I’m glad. Now let me wrap that and I can close up shop,” he said as he quickly turned to grab Saniderm.

His mind raced as he went to wrap your new tattoo, needing to be quick so you could finally put your shirt down. The last hour had been absolute agony, being so close to such an intimate part of you. He had to use every fiber in his body to keep his focus on your tattoo and not let his eyes glance up at your slightly exposed under-boob.

You were sitting on Nick’s bed, back pressed against the wall, scrolling on your phone as he worked on his laptop, occasionally typing away as he answered his emails. He said he had to get a few done, and offered to let you hang out in his room with him until the rest of the guys got back from doing who knows what.

You did your best to entertain yourself as he worked, but you mind kept trailing back to how close you two were earlier. How you could almost feel his breath on your skin as he worked on your new tattoo. The way he kept glancing up at you, checking to make sure you felt okay. You couldn’t get that look out of your mind. His pretty eyes just looking up into yours, holding more emotion that he let on. You had been so worked up since the tattoo started, and it wasn’t going away.

At this point, you had stopped scrolling and were just staring off into space as your mind wandered, imagining the emotions you could get his eyes to portray. Every thought that you had pushed away was now flooding your mind since he wasn’t focused on you, and being alone in his room with him did absolutely no help.

You finally come back to reality, only to notice him glancing at you in your peripheral. You glance over, but once he realized he had been caught, he quickly focused back onto the screen in front of him, causing a smirk to form on your lips. Was he actually losing focus because of you?

“Getting distracted, Ruffilo?” you teased, causing him to tense slightly at being caught. Your mind was glazed over with how turned on you were, and you couldn’t stop yourself anymore. You just wanted to mess with him.

He cleared his throat, not taking his eyes off the laptop, and did his best to act nonchalant as he responded, “Huh? Oh. No, just thinking.”

“Good. You wouldn’t want to miss any important details,” you teased with a smirk still on your lips. He let out a small huff and playfully rolled his eyes as he looked at you.

“I would never. I’m a professional,” he said, making you bite back a giggle. He was so cute when he tried to play things off.

“Oh, I know,” you responded with an amused smile. He raised an eyebrow at your smile. He did his best to keep a cool demeanor, but couldn’t help but feel a little flustered at your expression.

“Then why are you teasing me?” he asked, pretending to be annoyed. You gave him a playful scoff.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, feigning offense, making him chuckle. He turned in his chair and looked at you, crossing his arms.

“Oh sure you don’t. You’re just the picture of innocence,” he said sarcastically, causing you to giggle.

“Yeah. That’s one way to put it,” you replied, a smirk tugging on your lips. He couldn’t help but smile at your giggle, it causing a strange warmth in his chest. But your smirk was causing a much more intense reaction in him that he had to hide.

“But you’re awfully sassy for someone who tries to be so innocent,’ he teased, his tone turning playful, with a hint of flirting. He was enjoying this playful banter between you two.

“Sassy?” you said, trying to hide the amusement in your voice as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. You’ve got quite an attitude on you.” He teased, chuckling at your act. You crossed your arms and tried thinking of the best comeback, but none were coming to you.

“Well you’re easily distracted.” you finally said, giving him a playful grin. He raised an eyebrow at your comment. He tried to play it off, but there was a pang of embarrassment in his chest.

“Easily distracted? Me? I’m never distracted.” he protested, trying to sound confident.

“Oh yeah? Then how far along are you on those emails?” you teasingly asked, pointing to the laptop sitting on his desk. His eyes glanced over to the laptop, one that showed a half written email, and mentally cursed at himself. He had gotten distracted thinking of you, and then let you distract him even more with the playful bickering.

“I’m…uh…almost done,” he lied, trying to salvage what dignity he had left.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, a laugh escaping your lips. He tried to keep a cool demeanor, but he was getting more flustered as you teased him.

“Yes. I’m serious. I’m almost done,” he repeated, trying to sound more confident this time as he turned back to his laptop.

“Good, because I’d feel bad if I was the reason you couldn’t get any work done,’ you said, amused. He could feel his face getting more flushed. He tried to come up with a witty comeback, but all he got out was a flustered stammer.

“Y-you’re not the reason..I just..got distracted, that’s all,” he managed to get out, making you smirk as he finally admitted to being distracted.

“Then what’s got you so distracted?” you playfully asked, causing him to tense up. He didn’t want to admit it, so he tried coming up with the most convincing answer.

“I don't know..I guess I’m just tired from having to focus on tattooing all day.” he lied, now pretending to be more focused on this half written email on his screen.

You nodded with a grin on your face, not actually believing him, just having a lot of fun messing with him. He knew you didn’t believe him, but he was just thankful you stopped pushing the issue. He let out a sigh as he started typing again, doing his best to focus on the words, but he couldn’t stop letting his mind travel to you. His eyes involuntarily trailed back to you, causing you to smirk.

“Do I need to leave?” you teasingly asked, calling attention back to how easily distracted he was. His eyes widened slightly as he realized he had once again been caught staring, so he turned back to the screen, hiding his blushing face.

“N-no, you’re fine. I’m just..lost in thought,” he said, trying to play off that he was just straight ogling you. You giggled and crawled across the bed, moving closer to him.

“Whatcha thinkin about?” you asked, in a slightly annoying childish voice, wanting to tease him more. He swallowed hard as he heard you move closer to him. He tried his best to keep his composure.

“N-nothing important,” he lied. His eyes flickered over to you against his will, gauging how close you now were.

“Well, it’s obviously important enough that it keeps distracting you,” you said, feigning a sweet tone. He let out a soft huff, getting frustrated at how easily you were getting to him. He shifted in his chair, trying to maintain some semblance of control in this situation.

“It’s not important enough to share, trust me,” he said, his voice slightly strained. He tried keeping his gaze back on his screen as he felt the tension in the room grow thicker by the second, but his eyes trailed to you once more, curious as to why you were so quiet. Once his eyes landed on you, he saw that you were giving him a childish pout. He sighed, knowing that you always did that when you didn’t get your way, but he had to resist telling you the truth.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said, trying to sound stern, but you giggled when you noticed the amusement in his voice. He let out a defeated sigh and leaned back in his chair as his resolve crumbled away at the sound of your laugh.

“Fine. You wanna know what I was thinking about? It was you. I was thinking about you, alright?” He said, slightly embarrassed but also annoyed that you actually managed to pull it out of him.

You raised your eyebrows in shock, not expecting him to be so blunt and say it already. It wasn’t like you didn’t already know, but you were surprised he just came out and told you straight.

“Oh, you were thinking about me?” you asked, once again bringing back your playful tone. His cheeks flushed more as he realized how bad of an idea it was to admit it. He didn’t want to, but you broke him down so easily.

“Yes, I was thinking about you,” he repeated, his voice low and gravelly. He kept his gaze on you, gaging your reaction, “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”

“And what about me were you thinking about?” you asked playfully with a smug smile. This caused him to groan. You had been playing at his frustration and desire all day, and now that he was forced to think about you, he was struggling to keep those thoughts under control.

“Everything about you. Your smile, your voice, your eyes…everything,” he said, his voice growing huskier. He shifted in his chair again, trying to alleviate the tension in his body. Your eyebrows raised slightly as an amused smile played on your lips.

“Everything?” you asked, your tone teasing, yet slightly seductive, causing his eyes to darken. He could feel the tension in the room reach its boiling point, and he had to refrain from losing control.

“Yes. Everything,” he repeated, his voice getting closer to a growl as you kept pushing his buttons. He gave himself permission to rake his eyes over your body now that he knew he had nothing to hide, “I can’t get you out of my head, no matter how hard I try.”

“Did this start before or after the tattoo?” you ask, seemingly unaffected by his tone or actions.

“Before. Long before,” he answered, his voice dripping with desire as he watched you with hungry eyes. He had developed an attraction to you a while ago, but being so close to you as he tattooed you just made it worse.

“And how did you feel when I told you where the tattoo was gonna be?” you asked. You were enjoying this way too much. Just watching him lose it right in front of you.

“I was…conflicted. On one hand, I was excited to finally get so close to you, but on the other, I knew it was going to be absolute torture.” he answered. You feigned offense at his playful choice of words.

“Torture? You saw being so close to me as torture?” you teasingly asked. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction. You had a mischievous glint in your eyes and he knew that you were enjoying this a little too much.

“Don’t give me that look. You know exactly what I mean,” he said, his tone getting more seductive, “Being so close to you, yet not being able to give in and.. touch you…it drove me insane.”

“Well looks like you’re gonna have to stay insane,” you teased, shrugging. He was just giving you more and more opportunities to mess with him, so now you were going to keep riling him up and just not give him what he wanted. His eyes darkened more at your words, his smirk fading into more of a frustrated expression.

“Don’t tease me like that…You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to touch you,” he said, his voice dropping to a low husky whisper as he leaned forward. You just gave him a smug smile as you relaxed back, supporting yourself on your hands as you met his gaze with a mischievous look.

“And that’s why I’m not gonna let you,” you said bluntly. His eyes widened at your serious tone, his face turning into a mixture of desire and determination.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, tempting me like that just to deny me. It’s cruel.” You just shrugged, amused with how easy it was to egg him on.

“You can’t do anything about it. I won’t let you, so you’re just gonna have to suffer from a distance,” you said nonchalantly with a smirk playing on your lips. He took a deep breath and glared at you.

“You make it so hard for me to be a gentleman,” he mumbled through gritted teeth, his eyes raking over your body hungrily, “You’re so damn tempting, sitting there all smug and teasing me like that,”

You let your eyes slowly trail over this figure, seeing how tense and worked up he was, before landing back on his eyes with a mischievous smirk on your lips. He’s making it so easy to get him riled up, and it just makes you more excited to finally break him. You knew this was all an act. He wanted you to think that you had no control over him, but in reality, he was wrapped around your finger.

“Hey, I said you couldn’t touch me. But if you’re nice, maybe I’ll touch you,” you said in a stern yet seductive voice, getting quieter towards the end. His breath hitched as you spoke and his body tensed at the thought of you touching him. He looked at you with a mix of desire and desperation in his eyes, slowly breaking.

“You’re killing me here. How can you say something like that and expect me to behave myself?” he said, his voice straining as he struggled to maintain his composure. You so badly wanted to make a face, finally cracking down on his faux dominance, but you knew exactly what you could do to get him to finally break. You gave him a teasing pitiful pout.

“Because you wanna be a good boy for me, don’t you?” you asked in a soft teasing yet seductive tone. His eyes widened as the words left your mouth. He swallowed hard, doing his best to keep his composure, but his mind and body had already given in. It took a few moments for him to respond, but he gave in.

“Y-yes…I wanna be a good boy for you..” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. A proud smile formed on your lips, happy that you finally got to him.

You scooted back on the bed, creating a space for him, before patting the spot next to you. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting between your face and the spot on the bed. He was torn between his desire to give in to your every whim, and his pride, but ultimately, the desire won and he slowly stood up and walked to the bed.

He sat stiffly, trying to maintain some semblance of control over himself, but his body was tense with anticipation. He looked at you with a mixture of nervousness and excitement in his eyes, waiting for your next move. Taking that as a sign to continue, you softly pushed against his shoulders until he was now lying down in front of you. He didn’t resist, but just tensed at your touch. He watched you intensely, his heart racing in his chest as he waited to see what you would do next. He felt vulnerable in this position, completely at someone’s mercy for the first time, but there was a sense of trust and excitement in his eyes.

Enjoying the adorable man completely giving himself to you, you gave him a warm smile as you softly started tracing your fingers against his stomach, trailing them over his hips and down his legs, giving him a glimpse of the new dynamic. His breath hitched at your touch, his skin felt extra sensitive as he was not used to being so vulnerable, but also loving it.

“Now remember, no touching,” you said softly yet sternly as you looked into his eyes.

“I..I won’t touch you…I promise,” he said, his trembling voice barely above a whisper. His body felt like it was shaking with desire, but he was determined to be good for you.

You gave him a soft smile and a quiet, ‘Good boy,’ as you continued teasing your fingers across his body. He just watched and took in the feeling as you started trailing your fingers down to the hem of his shirt. You hooked your fingers under and pulled up until there was just a delicious thin strip of bare skin between his waistband and shirt, and softly traced your fingers over it, watching his reaction as you teased him.

Nick’s eyes fluttered shut and a soft gasp caught in his throat as he felt your fingers brush against his bare skin. He could feel his body responding to your touch, his skin tingling with every gentle graze of your fingers. He was completely under our spell and he knew it. He let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes to look up at you, his gaze filled with desire and submission.

You bit back a smirk as you caught his gaze. You knew that he was falling deeper and deeper under your control and you loved it. You looked back down to where your fingers traced against his skin and slowly moved them up, bringing the shirt with them. He watched as you slowly lifted his shirt, exposing more and more of his skin to your touch. He could feel the heat rising in his body, and his breathing grew heavier with each passing second.

You were going to tease him for as long as he let you, so once the shirt lifted to right above his navel, you leaned down and started softly littering kisses on his bare skin. His breath hitched as he felt your lips touch his skin. The sensation flooding his mind, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. His eyes closed as his body overreacted to your touch.

“That feels so good…” he managed to whisper out, his voice thick with desire. He wanted to touch you so badly, to get you to speed up, but he knew he had to resist. He was determined to let you take the lead, even if it killed him.

You looked up at him with a playful gaze as you started trailing kisses higher and higher, lifting the shirt with you. You just wanted to see how long it was going to take him to start begging for more. As he felt your lips trail up and his shirt rise, he opened his eyes and looked down, meeting yours. He had a look of desperation and admiration, and you could tell this was slowly driving him insane.

“Please…don’t stop,” he begged, his voice ragged. He was struggling to keep his composure as his body tensed and trembled with desire. He was completely under your spell, willing to do anything to keep feeling your touch.

Once his stomach and chest were on full display, you continued to litter his skin with soft kisses, occasionally licking and nipping at sensitive spots. This caused him to lose himself in a haze of pleasure, his body responding to your every touch. He let out a string of low moans and soft gasps and his back arched, pressing himself against your lips more.

“F-fuck…you’re driving me crazy,” he managed to gasp out, his voice laced with need and desire.

You were enjoying the sight of him falling apart under your touch, so you slowly started upping your game. Trailing kisses back down his chest and stomach, you slid your hand onto his thigh, softly rubbing it, moving your hand up and down, and occasionally rubbing his inner thigh. He let out a soft gasp as his body started responding to your touch, his muscles tensing and his breath picking up. Enjoying his reactions, you started moving your hand higher, getting a little too close to his growing bulge. He let out a strangled moan as his hips involuntarily bucked slightly in response.

“Please…please don’t tease me like that,” he pleaded, his voice almost a whine and filled with desperation. He was growing more and more frustrated and desperate with each passing moment, his body aching for your touch.

“Be a good boy for me, baby,” you said softly, with a slightly demanding tone. As much as you enjoyed his begging, you’d never give in. You were going to make a mess of him.

Nick shuttered at your words, his body responding instinctively to your command. He wanted to be good for you, to obey your every whim. He clenched his fists tightly, trying to regain control over himself.

“I-I’m trying…I’m trying to be good,” he gasped out, his voice strained. He could feel the tension building inside of him, the need for more growing stronger by the second.

Humming appreciatively, your kisses started getting lower, now running along his waistband, and your hand moved higher, now brushing against his bulge. He let out a shaky airy moan, jolts of pleasure shooting through his body every time he felt you moved your hand.

“Oh god… you’re killing me,” he whimpered. His body trembled in anticipation, him wanting nothing more than for you to touch him, to give him the release he so desperately needed.

A small giggle erupted from your throat, the vibrations traveling to his sensitive skin. You lifted your head and just watched him as you started softly palming him through his jeans. A strangled moan left his lips as he felt the heat and pressure of your hand against him. Every time you rubbed your hand against him, he let out a small gasp, his body tensing in response.

“Please, baby…more…I need it so badly,” he begged, a desperate, pathetic whimper.

“Beg all you want, my love, you’re gonna get what I give you,” you said with a slightly stern tone. He whimpered again at your tone, his body submitting to your will. He knew there was no use in begging, but he couldn’t help himself. The need for your touch was overwhelming, and he would do anything to feel your hands on him.

“I’ll be good…I’ll do whatever you want,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you to take pity on him.

His eyes just made you want to tease him more. This was becoming too fun for you. To have so much control over him that he could look up at you with those pretty eyes, begging you to help him. It was like a drug, and you just wanted more.

Keeping your eyes on his, you leaned back down and pressed your lips on the waistband of his pants, and slowly kissed closer and closer to his aching bulge. He watched with a bated breath as your lips moved closer. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his body tense with anticipation. He desperately wanted you to touch him, to give him the release he craved so badly. He let out a shaky moan once you were so close yet so far from where he needed you the most.

You gave him one final look, before placing a sloppy open mouth kiss against the height of his bulge. He let out a loud moan the second your lips finally made contact with it. The feeling of your warm mouth through the fabric was almost too much to bear, and he couldn’t stop himself as he bucked his hips up against you.

“Oh god..yes…please..” he gasped out, his voice laced with need and desperation. He was completely at your mercy now, unable to control the way his body responded to you.

Pleased with his reaction, you decided to step it up a notch and softly sink your teeth into it. Not enough to hurt him, but just enough for him to really feel you through the fabric. He let out a strangled cry. The sensation was both shocking and pleasurable, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. His body shuttered as his hips bucked, desperately trying to get more friction.

“F-fuck…do that again…please..” he gasped. He was completely lost in the moment, completely lost in your touch.

Even though you said you wouldn’t give in to his commands, you enjoyed the reaction too much. You softly pressed your teeth into him again, this time running your tongue along the fabric between them. He let out a loud moan as you did it again, the sensation of your tongue sending shivers down his spine. He was practically writhing beneath you now, his body wracked with pleasure.

“God…I can’t take it anymore…please..let me cum..I need to come so badly,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse and desperate. The feeling was too much and he was ready to explode at any moment. You lifted your head and looked at him, giving him a pathetic pitiful look.

“I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re already about to cum?” you asked condescendingly. He let out a strangled whimper at your words, his face flushing with embarrassment. He knew it was pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. He was so pent up, so desperate for release.

“I-I know…I’m sorry..I just can’t help it,” He said, his voice trembling. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging for mercy, “Please…just touch me…I need to feel your hands on me..”

You raised an eyebrow as you brought your hand back to his bulge, softly palming him again, giving him a small sliver of what he was begging for.

“And why should I do that?” you asked. He let out a shaky breath as he felt your hand on him again. His hips arched up against your hand, desperate for more friction.

“Because…because I’ve been good for you. I’ve been doing everything you asked..please..just give me a reward..” He begged. He was practically panting now, his body trembling with desire.

“Oh, you want a reward? After all the begging and commands for more, you think you deserve a reward” you asked, your tone condescending yet teasing. You hooked your leg over his and moved to straddle his thighs as a way to get more of an advantage on him. You began palming him again, this time much lighter so he couldn’t get as much pleasure from it, causing a whine of frustration to leave his lips. It was torture, and he could feel himself getting even more worked up.

“Please..I’ve been a good boy. I’ve done everything you asked…I need this so badly,” he begged, his voice shaking with need as he looked up at you with pleading eyes. Smirking at his desperation, you moved your hand up to the waistband of his jeans, popping the button then unzipping them. You looked back up at him as your fingers started toying with the waistband of his boxers.

“I don’t know. You’ve been pretty naughty, always bucking your hips even when I told you that you had to be good and not try to touch me,” you teased. He could feel his heart racing as you played with the waistband of his boxers and your words sending a shiver down his spine.

“I’m sorry…I couldn’t help it. You just feel so good,” he gasped out, his voice barely above a whisper. He was desperate, willing to get on his hands and knees if it meant you’d give him the release he so desperately craved. You finally hooked your fingers under his waistband.

“You gonna be a good boy and let me touch you?” you asked, your voice raspy with seduction. His eyes locked onto yours as he swallowed hard.

“Yes..I’ll be good..Just please..please touch me..” he pleaded, his voice shaking with desire. He would do anything to feel your hands on him. Absolutely anything. You start to pull his pants and boxers down, but stop, right before his tip could peek out. It couldn’t hurt to keep teasing him, right?

“You know, I don’t know if I believe you. Maybe you should beg some more,” you said, looking back into his eyes with a mischievous look. He looked at you with pleading eyes, his desperation evident. He could feel the cold air on the sensitive skin of his tip, and it was driving him crazy.

“Please…I’ll do anything. I’ll get on my knees and beg if I have to. Just please touch me. I need it so badly. I need to feel your hands on me. I’ll be good. I promise.” A smile formed on your lips on your lip at his begging.

As much as you’d love to see him on his knees, begging to be touched, you figured you could just give it to him. You pulled down his pants and boxers more, just enough for his cock to spring out. The tip was red, hot, and desperate for attention. He let out a sigh of relief as you freed his aching cock. He looked up at you with a mix of desperation and gratitude.

“..Thank you…” he whispered out, his voice trembling. He could feel the cold air on his exposed cock, and it was driving him wild. He wanted you to touch him so badly, to relieve the intense pressure that had been building inside him.

He let out a low moan as you ran your fingers against his sensitive skin, his body tensing at the touch. He closed his eyes, his breathing ragged and uneven. As you wrap your hand around him and brush your hand over the tip, he let out a gasp, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

“Oh god…that feels so good..” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure.

A string of curses escapes his lips as you start loosely pumping his cock, the feeling of your hand dragging against his skin sending waves of pleasure through his body. He tried to keep his hips still, but they kept bucking into your touch, seeking more friction.

“Please…more…I need more,” he gasped out, voice hoarse with need. You stopped your movements and looked up at him.

“Stop moving and begging or else I’ll stop,” you said, your voice stern and condescending. He whimpered at your command, his body going rigid as he forced himself to stop moving. He opened his eyes and looked up at you, his expression pleading.

“I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t move or beg…just please…don’t stop,” he pleaded with a trembling voice. He desperately wanted to obey your orders, wanting to prove that he could be good for you. That he deserved this.

Humming contently at his words, you shift your position, now moving your hips closer to his until the base of his cock was pressed right against your covered core. He let out a strangled moan as you moved. He could feel the heat radiating off of you, and it was driving him crazy. He wanted to thrust his hips up against you, but he forced himself to stay still, remembering your command.

“Please…can I touch you? Just a little bit?” he begged.

“Good boy for asking, but no,” you said with a teasing smile. He let out a frustrated groan as you denied his request, but quickly forgot about it as you started rocking your hips against his cock, rubbing yourself against him. The feeling of your heat against him was almost too much to handle, and he had to fight the urge to grab your hips and pull you closer.

“God…you’re so cruel..” he gasped out. You giggled as you stopped your movements.

“Cruel? My love, you better watch your mouth,” you said with a mischievous grin. He swallowed hard as he realized what he had done. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he couldn’t help it. He was so desperate for you, so needy.

“I’m sorry..I didn’t mean it. You’re not cruel, you’re just…driving me crazy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He stared at you with his signature pleading eyes, begging for you to continue.

You softly giggled at his apology. He just gave you a perfect opening to mess with him just a little bit more. He watched as you slid off his lap and stood beside the bed, a whimper escaping his lips, worried he actually ruined his chance at release. He looked at you with a look of curiosity and frustration, wondering what you were planning next. With your eyes still on his, you slowly moved your hands to your pants and undid them, before slowly pulling them down and stepping out of them. His eyes widened as you were now left in only underwear.

With a smirk, you crawled back into the position you were in before, straddling his hips. He felt his cock twitch as he watched you and felt your bare legs now pressed against his hips.

“Fuck…you’re killing me,” he groaned, his hands gripping the sheets tightly.

He let out a low moan as you grabbed his cock and positioned it against your wet panty-covered core. The feeling of your wetness against him was too much to bear, and he involuntarily bucked his hips again.

“Please..I need to feel you..no more teasing.” He pleaded, his voice thick with desperation and need.

“I was gonna let you touch me, but since you keep making commands and bucking into me, I guess I won’t,” you said looking down at him sternly. His eyes widened as you spoke, making him curse under his breath, regretting his actions.

“No, no, no..I’m sorry..please. I won’t do it again, I promise. I’ll be good. Just please..please please let me touch you,” he begged, his hands still gripping the sheets tightly. He was desperate to feel your skin against his, to feel the warmth and softness of your body. You hummed as you debated his words.

“Thighs only,” you said as you watched the way he gripped the sheets below him. He let out a sigh of relief as you agreed to let him touch your thighs, albeit just your thighs. He let go of the sheets and reached up to grip your thighs, his hands finally being able to slide up and down your soft skin.

“Thank you…thank you so much..” he whispered, his fingers softly digging into your flesh. He massaged and gripped at your thighs gently, trying to show you how grateful he was for even this small amount of contact.

You hummed at the feeling of his large hands on your thighs. Slowly and softly, you began rocking your hips as you watched him. Nick let out a shaky breath at the feeling of your core rubbing against him, driving him insane. He gripped your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he fought the urge to thrust up against you.

“God…you feel so good. I wish I could feel you without these damn panties in the way,” he groaned through gritted teeth, his voice strained with need. Pleased with his reaction, and secretly agreeing with him, you slipped your hand down and slid your panties to the side.

“Your wish is my command, my love,” you said as you pressed your now bare pussy against him. A loud moan left his lips as he watched. The feeling of your bare skin against his was almost too much to handle, and he couldn’t hold back much longer.

“Oh..f-fuck..that’s so much better,” he gasped out, his hands sliding up to grip your hips, pulling you closer.

“Hey. Thighs only, remember?” you said sternly. You enjoy the way he pulled you, but you couldn’t have him thinking he can just get away with doing what he wants. He quickly let go of your hips, grumbling in frustration, but obeyed your command and brought his hands back to your thighs.

“Sorry..you just feel so good..I couldn’t help myself..I want to feel all of you..” he whimpered.

“Be a good boy, and you will,” you said as you started moving your hips again. He fit so perfectly between your folds and rested perfectly against your clit, rubbing it every time you moved.

He watched as you moved, his eyes fixed on the spot where you were connected. The feeling of your slick folds against his sensitive skin was almost too much, and he could feel himself getting closer to the edge.

“I’ll be good..I promise. I’ll be the best boy for you, just please..don’t stop,” he gasped out. He gripped your thighs tightly, trying to control himself and not buck his hips again.

You held him closer to your core, applying more pressure. You hummed a moan, loving the feeling of him rubbing against your clit. He groaned as he felt his cock throbbing against you. He could feel your arousal dripping down his shaft, and it was driving him wild. He wanted nothing more than to grab your hips and thrust up into you, but he knew he had to be patient and wait for your permission.

The pleasure of his cock dragging against you was so nice, and you needed more. You let go of him and moved up his hips more, your core now right above him, and started grinding into him. Soft moans escaped your lips as you felt him rubbing through your folds and against your clit so perfectly. His eyes widened, and he let out a guttural moan, the feeling of your slickness against him becoming too much to bear. He could feel your arousal coating his cock, and he desperately wanted to be inside you.

“Fuck…you’re so wet…so hot..” he gasped out, his hands gripping your thighs even tighter.

The feeling of his hands gripping you in pleasure and need just added to the feeling, causing you to speed up your movements and applying more pressure, needing to feel him against you more. His hands gripped your thighs tight enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if they left a bruise, the pressure and friction against his cock becoming almost unbearable. He could feel his release building up inside him, but he fought it, not wanting this moment to end.

“Please..I need more, I need to be inside you, I need to feel you clenching around me,” he pleaded, his foggy mind causing him to whine. You couldn’t agree more. He let out a gasp as you grabbed his cock and positioned it at your entrance, the feeling of the tip pressing against your slick heat sending shivers down his spine. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you to continue.

“Please…please let me inside. I’ll do anything,” he pathetically whimpered.

You slowly lowered yourself onto him, causing him to let out a frustrated groan as you teased him. He could feel his cock twitching as you slowly took him, desperate for more.

“You’re torturing me..please..I need to feel all of you,” he begged, his hands returning to your hips and desperately grabbing at them. You wanted to scold him again, but felt as if you teased him enough, so you let it slide as you finally sank down on him.

Nick let out a loud moan as your hips met, the feeling of your tight walls enveloping him was overwhelming. He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he tried to hold back from thrusting up into you.

“Oh..god..you feel so good,” he gasped out, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

You grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your core, causing his eyes to shoot back to you as you pressed his fingers against your clit. Quickly understanding, he began rubbing circled against your sensitive nub as you began moving up and down.

“Oh yes..just like that,” he groaned, his other hand gripping your hip tightly as he tried to hold on for as long as possible.

A low moan left your lips. The feeling of him filling you up so perfectly, mixed with him rubbing your clit was mind-numbing. You involuntarily clenched around him in pleasure, causing a strangled moan to leave his lips. The feeling of your walls tightening around him almost sending him over the edge. He continued rubbing you, but his movements became more erratic as he fought to hold back his own release.

“You’re so tight… squeezing me so good..” he gasped out, his eyes locked on where his cock was disappearing inside you.

You couldn’t fight back the sounds that wanted to escape your lips. He just felt so good and you could feel yourself getting closer. You just needed a little more.

“Nick?” you whimpered out, causing his eyes to shoot up and meet yours with a dark look of desire.

“Yes, my love?” he asked, his voice hoarse with need. He continued rubbing you, his fingers moving faster and harder against you, hoping to bring you closer to your release. You had to fight back gasps as you said the words you knew he wanted to hear.

“Fuck me,” you sternly pleaded, needing him to take over. His eyes widened at your plea, his heart racing in his chest. He had been holding back for so long, so he couldn’t resist any longer.

“With pleasure,” he growled as his hand moved back to your hip, his grip tightening as he began to thrust up into you, meeting your movements with powerful strokes.

Instantly, loud moans left your lips as you brought your hands up to his chest, leaning on him for support as you gave him full control. He groaned as you gave him a better angle to thrust into you. He could feel your body trembling, and he knew you were getting close.

“That’s it, baby…Let go. I’ve got you,” he grunted, his thrusts becoming faster and harder as he pounded into you relentlessly, finally not having to hold back anymore.

Your eyes squeezed shut and your eyebrows furrowed as pleasure coursed through your body with each thrust. Your release was approaching faster and faster. He could feel you clenching around him, and he knew you were getting close.

“You’re so close, I can feel it. Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you cum all over my cock,” he growled, his own release rapidly approaching.

With a few more thrusts, you came undone. A loud moan fell from your lips as your head dropped and pleasure took over your body. Nick watched as your body shook in pleasure and he let out a loud groan as he felt your walls spasming around him, the sensation officially pushing him over the edge.

“F-fuck,” he grunted, his hips stuttering as he thrust up into you a few more times before spilling himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside you.

Another loud moan left your lips as you felt his hot cum spill into you. You involuntarily clenched around him more, milking every last drop before collapsing onto his chest.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against his chest as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel your heart beating wildly against his own, and he couldn’t help but smile at the feeling of being so close to you.

“Fuck…that was amazing,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse from exertion. He ran his fingers through your hair and gently stroked your back as he basked in the afterglow of your orgasms.

Once you both finally calmed down, your heartbeats gradually slowing down as you came down from your high, he pressed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, feeling a wave of affection wash over him.

“You’re amazing, my love,” he murmured against your hair, his fingers still gently running through it. You hummed at his praise and affection, bathing in the dopamine. He chuckled softly at your response, his hands now tracing soothing circles on your back.

“You’re so quiet now. I think I wore you out,” he teased. A smirk formed on your lips. There was no way you were going to let him bask in that small moment of dominance. You looked up at him and placed a hand on his cheek, ready to pull out your winning move.

“Yeah, you were such a good boy, Nick,” you said softly, giving him a proud look. His eyes widened and he felt a slight shiver run down his spine, loving the praise.

“You think I’m a good boy?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice as he leaned into your touch. You softly brushed your thumb against his cheek.

“Such a good boy. Listening to me and making me feel so good,” you said with a teasing seductive tone, softly clenching around him still inside you to really prove your point. He let out a low moan, his cock still sensitive from his orgasm. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of pleasure at your words and actions.

“Oh god..don’t..don’t do that. You’re gonna get me worked up again,” he groaned, his grip on you tightening slightly as he tried to control himself. You giggled mischievously at his reaction.

“And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” you asked playfully. Nick shook his head, a mixture of amusement and frustration on his face.

“No, we wouldn’t. But you’re making it so hard to behave right now,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. He shifted slightly underneath you, trying to adjust himself so he wasn’t so sensitive, but it was difficult with you still wrapped around him. You hummed, amused. He was just making this too easy.

“You’re a good boy, Nick, I know you’ll behave,” you said softly as you ‘absentmindedly’ shifted into a ‘more comfortable position’, so your hips were slightly raised, him still halfway inside you.

Nick let out a soft groan, his cock twitching as you shifted. He could feel your breath on his chest, and the feeling of your body pressed against him was driving him crazy. He tried to calm himself down, taking deep breaths and focusing on your words.

“I’m trying..but it’s not easy when you’re being so tempting,” he muttered, his hands moving to your hips, gently rubbing circles against your skin.

You giggled softly. This wasn’t anywhere near over for him. He was smug now, but you were going to break him until he cried. With your head still lying on his chest and a sweet smile on your lips, you very slowly started moving your hips. Pressing them down torturously slow so he sank back into you, then lifting them so he dragged back out of you. He let out a strangled moan, the slow and deliberate movements driving him crazy. He gripped you hips tightly, trying to control himself as you teased him.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he groaned out, his eyes closed as he tried to focus on anything but the feeling of your body against his.

“Just be a good boy and ignore me,” you said sweetly as you continued your movements, loving the feeling of him slowly dragging in and out of you.

He let out a low growl, his fingers digging into your hips as he fought to follow your instructions. He desperately wanted to thrust up into you, to take control and make you his, but he knew that you were testing him. And he couldn’t let himself disobey your orders.

“It’s not that easy,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on the way your ass moved up and down on him.

“Just think of anything but the feeling of your cock slowly pumping in and out of me,” you teased, your tone full of faux innocence. His eyes darkened at your words and he let out a frustrated huff.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Torturing me like this?” he asked, his voice laced with both desire and annoyance. He tried to think of anything else, but everytime he closed his eyes, all he could see was the image of you riding him.

“Torturing you would be forcing you to stop touching me again,” you teased, a mischievous smile forming on your face. His grip on your hips tightened as his eyes snapped open and looked at you.

“Don’t you dare,” he said, his voice low and serious. You were right, but he was already struggling to control himself as is.

Hearing his challenge, you lifted yourself so now you were holding yourself up on your hands and knees, able to easily rock back and forth to continue teasing him. His breath hitched in his throat, this angle making it even more difficult to resist the urge to thrust up into you. You looked straight into his eyes with a mischievous look.

“Don’t challenge me, love. I absolutely will if I have to,” you said, your tone condescending yet seductive.

“You’re such a brat, you know that?” he growled, his voice low and husky. Despite his frustration, he couldn’t help but find your confidence and control arousing. You brought your hand to his jaw and held it, forcing him to look at you.

“Now now. Don’t be mean. I could make this absolute torture for you,” you said sternly with a smirk. His eyes narrowed as his gaze was locked on yours. He knew you had the upper hand in this situation, but he couldn’t help but feel a mix of frustration and excitement at your dominance, wanting to test it.

“And what exactly would you do to me, hm?” he asked, his voice dripping with defiance. You raised an eyebrow at his tone.

“You really wanna know?” you asked, your tone both teasing yet threatening. His expression darkened, a hint of a challenge in his eyes.

“Yes, I do. I want to know what you’d do to punish me for being mean,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. He couldn’t resist the temptation to push your buttons, even if it meant getting himself in trouble.

You let out a huff at his bratty attitude. Within a blink of an eye, you grabbed his wrists and held them above his head as you fully sunk down on him, using your body weight as leverage to keep him pinned. He gasped as you moved. He struggled against your grip, but found that he couldn’t break free. And the feeling of being completely inside of you again caused a moan to rumble deep in his chest.

“Oh god..you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes locked on yours with a mixture of desire and frustration. You leaned down so your lips were close to his ear.

“You tested me. You wanted to be a naughty boy, so now you’re stuck like this,” you whispered harshly into his ear, causing him to shuttered and tense beneath you. He couldn’t tell if he hated being restrained like this, or if it turned him on even more.

“I-I didn’t mean to be naughty. I can’t help myself when you’re being such a brat,” he protested weakly, his hips twitching as he tried to move against you.

He was really pushing his luck now. You tightly clenched around him in punishment as he called you a brat again. He let out a low groan, the feeling of your tight walls gripping him making it difficult for him to think straight. He finally gave in.

“Watch it.” you said sternly.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to call you a brat. You’re just so damn irresistible when you’re in control like this,” he whimpered out, a hint of frustration in his tone.

“I’m glad you enjoy it, because now you’re stuck like this. I’m not moving,” you said harshly. He let out a frustrated whine at your words.

“You can’t leave me like this. I need more. I need to feel you moving on me,” he pleaded, his hips shifting beneath you in a futile attempt to get some friction. You just pressed your hips into his more as your grip on his wrists tightened.

“I can do as I please. And it’s not so bad right? Feeling my tight pussy around you as you’re restrained to the bed. You get to think about the way you came in me. The way you thrusted in me and how I moaned in pleasure. The way my body shook as I came around your cock,” you whispered in his ear, your voice both seductive and menacing.

He let out a low whine as you effectively immobilized him. Your words sent shivers down his spine and he could feel his cock twitch inside you as he thought about everything you said.

“You’re evil,” he whined, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he struggled against your grip on his wrists.

“That’s what you get when you’re a naughty boy. You’re lucky you even get to feel me. I could tie you to this bed as I play with my pussy in front of you and never let you touch me,” you whispered menacingly into his ear. His eyes widened at your threat, and he felt a pang of desperation in his chest.

“No, no, please don’t do that. I’ll be good, I probably. I’ll be your good boy,” he said quickly, his voice a pleading whine. The thought of being denied any further contact with you was too much to bear.

“Oh? So you wanna be a good boy again?” you ask condescendingly. He nodded vigorously, his expression full of submission.

“Yes, yes, I do. I’ll do anything you say. I’ll be your good boy, your obedient slave. Just please, please let me touch you. Let me feel you,” he begged, his voice trembling with desperation. A small amused huff left your lips.

“Sorry, my love. You haven’t proved yourself just yet. But I’ll give you a chance. No touching. No moving. Got it?” you asked him sternly. He let out a frustrated growl, but nodded in defeat.

“I got it. No touching and no moving. I’ll stay still like a good boy,” he said, his voice tinged with resignation. He was desperate for your touch, but he knew he had to obey your rules if he wanted any chance of being rewarded.

You let out a hum of appreciation as you began moving your hips again. He let out a sigh of relief, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to move. Instead, he focused on your words and kept his hands firmly pinned above his head, even though every fiber in his being was screaming for him to try and touch you.

You two finished cleaning yourselves up and getting dressed again. You were cuddling on his bed, whispering sweet things to him, praising him and complimenting him. Telling him how good he was and how pretty his eyes looked when he looked up at you like that. He just softly hummed at your praise, staring up at you in adoration as you spoke.

That’s when you heard the door downstairs close and a stampede of feet come into the house, causing you two to scramble up and out of his bed. You both took one last look at yourselves, making sure the previous event wasn’t painstakingly obvious, before opening his bedroom door and going back to the places you were before. Him on his laptop and you nonchalantly scrolling on his bed.

You heard footsteps coming up the stairs and turned to the door to see a smiling Noah appear.

“Show me the new tat,” he said excitedly, causing you to laugh.

You sat up and lifted your shirt, holding it right below your bra. He got closer and looked at it smiling.

“That’s sick! It really fits you. Nick did a good job,” he said as he examined it. You smiled and turned to Nick, who was watching you two.

“Yeah. He did really good,” you said, secretly winking at Nick since Noah’s eyes were focused on your new piece.

Nick blushed and turned back to his laptop as Noah stood back up and looked at you. But then his eyes caught something.

“And what’s that?” he said, a smirk forming on his face as he pointed to your neck. The fresh love bite, still forming on your skin.

#nicholas ruffilo #Nicholas ruffilo x reader #nicholas ruffilo one shot #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo smut #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens smut #bad omens one shot #nicholas ruffilo reader insert #nick ruffilo #nick ruffilo smut #nick ruffilo x reader #nick ruffilo one shot #nick ruffilo fanfiction

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occasionallyprosie · 3 days

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Hi Proxi. I like your Shekiak legend head cannon, but I don't know a lot about it. Would you being willing to tell me about it? It's okay if you are too busy right now.

hsefshfjksahfd

OMG

First of all, thank you for the ask!!!

Second of all, you've opened a can of worms, allow me to info dump? :D

My Sheikah Legend head canon stems from an offhanded thought of him having red eyes! Specifically, in terms of my Triforce Hero head canon of the Triforce Heroes being Legend, Wind, and Twilight, and their color symbolizing which part of the triforce they represent. I can go into detailing that another time, but basically it results with Wind=Courage, Twilight=Wisdom, and Legend=Power, and their eye colors being the indicator.

The idea of Legend having red eyes ended up resulting in him being at least part sheikah, and now the head canon has become a full sheikah.

So Sheikah Legend is born and raised in Kakariko, Impa is his aunt, and one or both his parents died when he was little. Very Disney Princess I know. But Impa teaches him how to use Sheikah magic which is just Shadow Magic, and he's super good at it. His parents were scholars and as a result he's a huge nerd, absorbs information like a sponge, which makes for an even better magic user.

Before his first adventure, he was set to succeed Impa as the Sheikah protector of the Royal Family. So he's at the castle frequently, only he doesn't get to meet the royal family until later, he's supposed to be shadowing Impa and practicing his disappearing magic, but he gets distracted and helps out the staff every time they visit.

But then he hears a voice one night, he hears Zelda(Fable) and goes to the castle. He finds a knight he's helped out before dying in the sewer. He sneaks through the castle, breaks Fable out, and does the whole ALTTP journey. He learns how to fight with weapons and without magic from Fi, as a way to conceal his identity.

After his first adventure, he's basically banished from Kakariko as himself. He's the hero now, and Sheikah aren't supposed to be the hero (they're Hylian). So Impa takes him to some friends of hers, who take the role of grandparents to him. He dyes his hair blond and gets contacts to turn his eyes blue, blends in as a hylian while learning the culture of the people who called him a monster and a traitor. As a Sheikah, Legend is still wanted by the law, but as a "Hylian" he slips past their notice. He goes the rest of his adventures pretending to be something he isn't, exiled from his hometown but still close with Impa and still intending to maintain his duty as protector of the Royal Family.

Overall, he's far less of a 'normal kid turned hero' child soldier type and more of a 'trained to fight since birth' child soldier type, and he has extreme abandonment issues. He has no problem using his Shadow Magic, but admitting he's Sheikah? Nope. Because he got basically banished from Kakariko, and Hyrule hates him, he is completely terrified of revealing his heritage. He also has extremely high expectations of himself as a result of his extensive training and responsibility. He's always acting like something he isn't at his core, and it's been ongoing enough that before LU, while still under pressure of his era, he forgot isn't his real self. In Labrynna and Holodrum, he loses that mask a bit because he's only a kid and can't keep it up, and because he's escaped the pressure of Hyrule. But in LU, he eventually becomes comfortable enough with the Chain that his real self starts to come out and it terrifies him because he can't risk losing everything all because of his heritage again.

Kind of akin to Warriors' with the identity crisis, Wild with the upbringing, and Hyrule with the secret heritage.

Wind and Twilight already know tho, he let it slip during Triforce Heroes. They keep it secret, and it didn't help Twilight figure out that Legend is the same Link as the one from Hytopia now that he's blond and has blue eyes though. Wind somehow still figured it out, nobody knows how, he's just like that.

Overall his character/personality isn't different, just different backstories and different fears.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu headcanons #sheikah legend #sheikah legend agenda #prosie rambles #lu legend #asks

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cowboywritersworld · 2 days

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“You and me.” “Always.” 2003-05 rko after wrestlemania pls?

Me and you = Forever

General Masterlist | WWE Masterlist | Randy Orton Masterlist

Characters: Randy Orton, Reader

Prompt: “You and me.” “Always.” 2003-05 rko after wrestlemania pls? So this is set after Randy's Wrestlemania match against the Undertaker in 2005, where the Undertaker won with a Tombstone Piledriver. Hope you like it! Sorry for taking so much!

If anyone wants a second part, just send an ask. I'll find something more to write or just send another idea with it.

It has been quite a bit since you started dating Randy. You still weren't officially engaged or together, but you both enjoyed each other's presence.

When he had shows in your hometown, you always bought first row seats and he would just give you a pass for backstage, so you could be back there with him.

You yourself weren't a wrestler, but you liked watching it, especially Randy's matches. Even though you perfectly knew everything was staged, you couldn't help but worry for him in pretty rough matches.

"Good luck out there, Randy." You wished him, pecking him on the lips. He was about to have his match against The Undertaker after having turned heel just a week before.

"Thank you and don't worry about me, okay? Love you, y/N." He kissed you better, needing that good luck kiss.

"I'll try. Do you think I can wait for you to be back, at Gorilla?" You knew you couldn't just sit there, even if you would be out there front row.

"You can go back as soon as Undertaker pins me and wait there." He smiled at you, that smile which you love so much and that he only reserves for you. Blessing. Knowing him is a blessing, even with his traveling so much through all the States.

"Don't get too distracted by me." You smirk at him, pushing him towards the door. "Now you better go, it's almost time for you to go out. See you soon."

He went out after stealing a last kiss and you follow him outside, just to take a different direction. When you were finally at your seat and the match started, you watched with a huge smile on your face, loving to watch him do what he loves the most... After you of course.

Some spots definitely made you worry, at the edge of your seat, but were more than relieved when it came to an end. You stood back up and went once again backstage, waiting for him.

"You did so good." You told him, putting a hand on his chest and got on your tiptoes to kiss him chastised.

"But I still lost." He said with a sigh, kissing you back.

"You are always the winner to my eyes. Maybe you lost the match, but some months ago you won my heart." You declared with a sweet smile, while he dragged you towards his locker room.

"I am so lucky to have won your heart, Y/N." He opened the door to his locker room quickly, getting into it, while you closed the door behind you.

"I am so lucky. I dreamed I would get to know you, but to be here, in love with you and you in love with me..." You said dreamily. "It's still surreal. I am just a normal girl, maybe average, not a wrestler..."

"Sometimes the sweetest encounters just work together, Y/N." He kissed you deep this time and you could only accept it, not that you would deny it.

You put your hands to his muscular and sweated chest, panting when your lips finally part way. "You and me." You whisper, while one of his hands went to grab your ass teasingly.

"Always, Y/N. Always." He kissed you once again, but you broke the kiss quickly.

"Come on, go take a shower. I want to go to the hotel." You slightly pushed him toward the right door, but he didn't let you go.

"Care to join me?" Randy made a c'm here motion with one hand, licking his lips.

"You go take it really quick, maybe we can have a longer one at the hotel."

#wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe fic #wwe #randy orton #randy orton x reader #ask me #randy orton imagine

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vuutarros · 2 years

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I've been incredibly out of sorts this week...

I dislike this, I'm having to police my emotions to such a high degree 😡

And it's not just irritability, either. My emotions have been all over the place, hyper and happy and manic, next ready to snap at the slightest sound, then goofy again, before being very depressed. And on and on and on. 'Round and 'round we go, where we stop, heaven help us all.

#and there's so much noise to set me off in the office these days #I've got 3 drivers on modified duties in my office #one who's helping the Kid with pick up bookings #her customer service voice is like the receptionist from Office Space #so that's just not going to drove me up the wall #another who i have nothing for him to do #so he sits at the coffee station grunting every 5 seconds #at least when he's not arguing with people on his phone because they can't understand what he's saying in his nasally mumbling voice #dude! i know how to spell your name and even i can't get that from what saying #use the godsdamned nato phonetic alphabet saying the same easily misunderstood letter even when nicely enunciated over and over again while #getting progressively more pissed off and less intelligible doesn't work #and the third spends most of his time with his head is hands #then there's the faint sounds of F's podcasts distracting me #and the Kid bouncing his foot against the chair leg #then somebody will start scanning and somebody will use the xerox to scan a small forest of documents #and i am sitting there getting more and more overwhelmed with no way out #can't put in my earphones I'd just be pulling them out every 5 seconds to answer a phone or gate or something else #i need the number of people in my office to drop by at least one very loud asshat blocking the coffee station #he's the worst #and if i have to listen him repeatedly fail to voice dial a contact again while the phone is in his fucking hand 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

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gutsby · 8 months

Text

Waiting Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Praise. Overstimulation. Sweet, possessive, slightly obsessive and pussywhipped Joel. Daddy kink. Drug use. Angst. Accidental creampie. Joel fucking you while on the phone with your father.

Part 2 | Part 3

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad presses. A hint of concern rises from his end of the line.

At length, Joel grips both of your legs and brings them up over his shoulders, and he grins before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelp as you crush the phone to your ear, hoping your father can’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

Aside from the fact that he smoked like a chimney and bumped far more Billy Joel than any man ever should, Mr. Miller was an A-OK friend—your father’s best friend.

All you needed was a ride home for the holidays.

From the second you’d set foot in his old Ford Bronco, you sensed this trek wouldn’t be an enjoyable one—thirty-hour road trips rarely ever were—but you leaned back in the passenger seat, propped your feet on the dashboard, and bopped along to ‘You May Be Right’ for the fifty-fifth fucking time that morning and smiled.

Joel frowned.

“Dogs off the dash,” he muttered, swatting at your bare, polished toes before you kicked his touch away.

“Shotgun puts her feet up, driver shuts his cakehole.”

That wasn’t even how the saying went. Oh well.

Joel slowed the car to sixty in the right-hand lane and smacked your ankles even harder. You yelped.

“Hey! You can’t hit a woman!”

“I’m not hitting a woman, I’m hitting a little gremlin,” Joel tried not to grin as he delivered another tart slap to your foot, and you almost jerked into the passenger door.

He momentarily righted the car before it went veering into the lane beside it, seized one of your feet, and tried to forcibly shove it off the dashboard, to no avail. As soon as he moved one limb, the other would glide right back up to take its place; Joel’s hands were big, but they weren’t massive enough to grab hold of both of your legs at once and make you stay the fuck there, Christ’s sake.

You liked to see him flustered. Brought a whole new hue to his tough, stubbled cheeks that folks rarely got to see. You squirmed in your seat when he reached for your side.

“Wh—NO! No tickling!” you cried, trying your hardest to roll away.

But the man was nothing if not a lover of cheap shots and filthy antics. He’d never played a clean game in his life and wasn’t about to start now.

His gaze darted from the road to your writhing form, pinned against the door and begging him to stop, while he pressed his foot harder on the gas and smirked.

“Too much?” he teased, “Say pretty, pretty please.”

In other words: give up. You would do no such thing. Your elbow jutted out to the side and clipped his fingertips sharply, and right before he could reach for you again, you were heaving yourself up and leaning almost halfway out the open window, trying to shy away from his touch.

“You fuckin’ nuts?! Get down!” he yelled.

“But it just may be a luuuunatic you’re lookin’ for!” you sang along to your old friend Billy Joel and pretended not to see, or hear, Joel Miller twisting desperately across the center console to take hold of your belt loops.

“Get—I swear to God, kid—DOWN!”

Joel had just managed to finagle a loose, feeble grip on your denim waistband as he tried to keep the car from soaring across three lanes of traffic, was just about to yank you back inside and give you a red-faced, fatherly lecture of a lifetime, when a sound startled you both.

A siren, and a set of flashing blue lights behind you.

You scrambled back in your seat and swallowed a lump in your throat the size of a peach. You turned off Mr. Long Island.

“Great! Good fucking going,” Joel griped beside you as he flicked on his blinker and started to pull off the road.

Dogs no longer on the dash—and a very pissed off cop pulling up behind your car on the shoulder of the road—you got the feeling this would be a long couple of days.

You hadn’t even made it outside the city limits of Boston.

Somewhere between Richmond and Roanoke, the two of you turned off the highway to find a place to sleep.

Joel had sat and stewed and ignored you for the customary duration of about two hours before choosing to re-engage in conversation, but deep down, you knew he was still kind of irked by that reckless driving citation he’d received. You couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Though it had been pretty funny when the state trooper had approached the car and pointedly asked, “What the hell was your daughter doin’ danglin’ outta this thing?!” Joel was nowhere near as amused as you, but he managed to roll with it and told the cop you were just trying to wave to the cows in the fields passing by.

The police officer hadn’t bought it.

He probably would have arrested you both if you hadn’t been such a coquettish flirt and somehow managed to persuade the man to let your ‘dad’ off with just a ticket.

You had hoped that would temper Joel’s anger some, but if anything, the sight only seemed to make him more mad at you. You weren’t sure why.

Presently, you pulled up to Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge and cast a bleak look at the front office before you.

This looked nothing like the snug, homespun mountain retreat you’d been picturing in your mind. Ahead of your car, there stood a single-story concrete slab of a motel, tilted to one side and consumed almost entirely by the dark of night and wide open wilderness. A big block letter neon sign displaying the owner’s name in red now barely flickered above a muddied, pinkish glow. You groaned.

But before you could complain to your travel companion, Joel was already stepping out of the car and heading toward the main office. Hastily, you followed after.

“No way, Miller. No fucking way are we staying in Murder Motel,” you hissed.

“Bal-ma-ceda’s,” Joel intoned with a maddeningly accurate lilt, ignoring your protests, “I think that’s a Chilean name.”

He swung the door wide for you to enter and pretended not to see you shoot him a glare as you strolled in.

“Needin’ a room?”

The lady behind the counter barely graced your entrance with a look.

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you got,” Joel replied, smiling.

“Smoking or non?”

“Smoking, please.”

Of course he would. You could already feel the fetid stench of American Spirits wafting up to your nostrils.

“King or two Queens?”

“Queens,” you and Joel answered in unison.

At first, the woman nodded, flicked through a rolodex on her desk and nosed through a couple yellowed pages in front of her. Then, frowning, she looked back up.

“Sorry. All the Queens are took up. Rest of the rooms are being fumigated but the one—” she tapped a manicured nail on the motel map, “—and it’s got a King. That okay?”

No. No, it was not. You opened your mouth to speak but were shortly cut off by the woman before you could.

“Of course, if you don’t want dad hoggin’ up all the sheets, there’s a pull-out sofa for him to sleep on.”

The sixty-something desk clerk offered a smile, and you likely would’ve returned the favor if you hadn’t been so deeply nauseated at the thought of everyone around you assuming that Joel was your father. You chanced a look at the man, who seemed equally uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You sighed.

“Alright.”

Defeated, but marginally pleased that you wouldn’t have to share a bed with your ‘old man’ that night.

Joel paid and signed the papers without another word, or look, to you or the woman. By the looks of it, he just wanted to book the room and get the hell out as fast as possible, his brow pinched inward and lips zipped tight.

He’d turned to leave so quick that he was almost approaching the door when the lady called out,

“Mr. Miller! You forgot your keys.”

You hardly needed to steal a glance in Joel’s direction to see that he was flushed. Even blushing a bit.

You strode over to the counter and intercepted the keys she was dangling for someone to take, then politely, finally, were able to manage a smile and a thank-you.

You turned back to Joel.

“Here you go, Daddy.”

In a blink, the small silver set was pelted in his hands, and the man nearly dropped them—and lost his balance. By some miracle, Joel managed to catch them between his big sweaty palms and step aside just in time for you to saunter past him, straight through the door.

“I’m starved,” you announced, then, averting your face to hide your smug expression and lower your voice a bit, “Feed me, Daddy.”

In that moment, Joel thanked every last one of his lucky stars that his pants were made of denim, and that the denim itself was thick. And that the woman at the front desk was swift to turn her attention back to her tabloid magazine, away from you two, and didn’t look up again.

If they weren’t, and if she hadn’t, it would’ve been plain as day to see that Joel Miller was sporting a hard-on.

A huge, swollen hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to walk and haul luggage and try to keep apace with your steps as you sailed along the gravel drive. So big the man had to will himself not to limp, not to make it known how stiff he was, until he eventually failed at both.

Once you’d grabbed your bags back at the car and made it up to your place, you entered Room 102 with a lightness you hadn’t felt all day. Joel slogged behind with all of the baggage and a boner beneath his jeans that probably could’ve cut sheet metal, if needed.

He was fucked. No doubt he’d have to enlist in the Witness Protection Program after your real father found out that his best friend had gotten visibly bricked up for you, his one and only daughter. How awkward holiday dinners were bound to be from that point on; how humiliating it seemed to him to pop a chub at a thing as dumb as saying ‘daddy’; how batshit insane it was that he hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year, and you were still, somehow, the only one he wanted to break the dry spell.

Joel was better than this. A fucking pro at self-control and all things dirty old guys didn’t do. He could chill out.

He just needed to rub one out in the bathroom, fast.

So, while you flopped down on the bed, Joel dropped every bag and made a beeline for the toilet. Slammed the door so hard he probably could’ve knocked the thing off its hinges, but he didn’t care. He was wrestling his belt, button, and zip off in a second. Then haphazardly turning on the sink to mask the sounds of all that was to come. No pun intended.

He yanked his thick, throbbing, rock-hard member out of its confines and had to hiss through his teeth to keep from moaning. The sensitivity he felt was unbearable, the front of his boxers already painted with pre-cum.

Gingerly, Joel wrapped one hand around his cock and raised the other to anchor himself against the sink. He slid his palm, which he’d just barely lubricated with some spit of his, up and down the shaft and groaned. A welt of pleasure formed in his chest, and he rubbed even faster. And, in spite of his legs feeling a bit like jelly, he stood there and fucked his fist and wished with every bit of himself that it was your warm, lush folds opening around him instead. Stifled a groan and would’ve paid any sum of money to hear your moans spilling out while he thrusted. The act here was more mindless and reflexive than anything else—jerking himself and soaking in the sharp, fiery sensations that shot up through his body.

To him, at least, it was all purely physical. Mechanical.

Nowhere near as euphoric and otherworldly as it would have been with your hand actually curled around him.

Or your lips. Or your tongue. Or your tight, wet cunt.

Fuck, he needed a shower.

Blindly, Joel moved inside the tub to his left and yanked the curtain shut over a space almost two times too small for his frame. He turned on the water and made it hot. Then he fisted his cock again, pressed his head to the shower wall, and pumped himself as fast as his forearm would allow him—trying all the while not to think of you.

You, with all your wily, shrewd ways were still the daughter of the man who guzzled down IPAs with him at the local dive bar every Thursday night over jalapeño poppers and buffalo dip. The man who clapped him over the shoulder and shook his frame with the kind of good-natured sneer that only a best friend could make, ‘A man as suave as you oughta get some tail every now and then. Go find you a gal and fuck her brains out, Joel!’

But the only ‘gal’ Joel wanted to rail was the one who called that man ‘dad’—and just called him ‘daddy’ for the first time that night—and he hated himself for it.

Sparks of pleasure continued to ignite across his lower half as he jerked himself in the shallowest, short pumps. He flicked his hand back and forth, circled the tip with his palm, and felt a groan start to claw at his throat. He tried to picture any face but yours but failed miserably.

All he could think, see, or breathe was you—imagining your lips enveloping the head of his cock, jerking him softly, taking him down to the back of your throat and bobbing that pretty little face up and down his length.

That sweaty, desperate fist of his just wasn’t cutting it.

For the first time, Joel couldn’t make himself cum.

Now even more pent-up and pussywhipped than he’d been when he first started, he slammed his palm against the wall and flung the shower handle in the opposite direction—turning the water as cold as it could get.

Five minutes passed, and the icy spray had scarcely left a dent in his raging erection. Joel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stood in front of the mirror to see that he was still very hard.

Fuck this.

He bunched his strewn aside clothing together and held it over his crotch, discreet as he could, and waddled out.

And, either the temperature inside had just jumped fifty degrees or the world outside had just caught fire, but Joel’s face was flooded with heat the second he exited.

You were sprawled across the bed wearing nothing but a thin white tank, shorts, and fuzzy socks—and a scowl.

“Sofa’s broke,” you said.

Joel blinked.

“Broke?”

You nodded toward the busted sleeper couch at the far end of the room, torn to pieces and kicked a half-dozen times since you’d tried unfolding it in Joel’s absence.

The jaws of the old steel frame had simply refused to give way, and now the sofa was so out of sorts and misshapen that you had no hope of putting it back the way that it was. You sank further in the bed and pointed to the floor.

“You can sleep there.”

Joel eyed a flat sheet and a pillow laid across the carpet, visibly coated in dust and grime. He turned back to you.

“You’re smokin’ crack if you think I’m doin’ that.”

“Be grateful I’m not making you sleep in the car, daddy.”

Again with that fucking name. Joel tightened his grip on the clothes he was holding over his dick and tried to fight a thousand dirty thoughts threatening to seep back into his head.

Unfortunately, the dirty thoughts had hands—and were beating his ass to a bloody pulp when he first caught sight of your nipples poking up through your shirt. Just when the man might have started to drool or else begun humping that pile of clothes, you snapped your fingers.

“Miller Lite. Eyes up here.”

Fuck.

“Got a…stain on your shirt,” he grumbled in his defense.

“Shut up. Now, we can flip for the bed if you want.”

By turns, Joel’s focus was slowly coming back, and the man was trying like hell to find a place on your face that didn’t arouse him to no end—to help ease the intrusive thoughts and all. So far his search had yielded nothing.

“Like, uh…coin?” he asked. Endearingly stupid.

“Heads, I win,” you said, nodding, “Tails…”

Joel swallowed.

“Tails, what?”

“Tails, you tell me what was going on in your head when you were jacking off to the thought of me just now.”

Your words came out in a hurry, almost too quick for Joel to comprehend. He still heard them, though, and nearly choked on his spit when he tried to swallow again.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” you bit back, “I heard you moan my name.”

Joel didn’t remember that. Joel didn’t remember much of anything that had taken place in that bathroom apart from being implacably horny and unable to bust a nut. You stepped off the bed to stand in front of him.

“What? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” you sneered, “Think I’m just gonna run off and tell my da—”

“Don’t,” Joel’s response was immediate, insistent. Then, setting his jaw in a way you knew too well, contemplating about fifty different thoughts in the span of two seconds, he pressed the clothes pile to his crotch even tighter and sighed, “Don’t…do that, please. I’ll take the floor.”

You raised both brows, mildly amused.

“I said we could flip for it. C’mon,” you said.

“Ain’t got any coins.” Joel was already retreating to his makeshift sleeping pad on the floor, eyeing the shag carpet for any traces of blood, piss, or rodent droppings. Before he made it too far, you reached for his arm.

Joel tensed under your touch.

“We can try something else.” Your voice was cloying, almost too sweet to be trusted.

It had just dawned on you then how bare the man standing before you was. Clad in only his towel, every taut, toned inch of Joel’s body was there on display—coated with sweat and a fine sheen from the shower, his skin practically shone in the glow of the bedside lamp. You watched him shift in place and saw the towel around his hips stir along with it. He never let those old clothes in his hands move an inch away from his groin, though.

“What game?” he asked.

“Something my roommates showed me,” you began, “‘Too Hot.’”

“Too Hot?”

“You heard me.”

“What, like— like Spin the Bottle, or some bullshit?”

Joel could just picture it: a gaggle of your college pals huddled around an old, empty bottle of Bud Light as you watched it turn circles again, and again, and again on the dorm’s linoleum floor. You tugging at the sleeve of some oversized man-child from a frat Joel couldn’t name, leaning in and beaming like the insatiable flirt he knew you to be, asking that boy if he wanted to sneak off somewhere and let his tongue take a tour of your mouth.

The thought made Joel’s stomach turn.

Presently, you wrinkled your nose up at him.

“Spin the Bottle? That’s rookie shit,” you made another face reminding Joel, once more, how little he knew of the life you lived 1,900 miles away from Austin, at college.

He still couldn’t shake the thought of those boys.

“No, Joel,” you shook your head, drawing your syllables out for effect, “‘Too Hot’ is just…edging your opponent.”

Joel’s throat tightened, and he tried not to let his eyes widen too much, but he was almost certain they had. Before he even knew the words he was saying, the thought of your father taking his fist—or a shotgun—to his face made him blurt out in response, stammering,

“We can’t— I can’t— can’t lay one finger on you, darlin’, you know that. Your dad would murder me.”

To his surprise, the smile on your face only widened.

“Bingo,” You stuck one pretty finger in his face like he’d made the world’s finest discovery, “You can’t touch me.”

“Huh?”

“That’s the whole fuckin’ game, Miller. We can kiss, but we can’t touch each other with our hands. First one to crack and grope the other player loses the game.”

Your expression now was something just shy of sadistic. Watching him with keen, narrowed eyes and a wicked little grin, it seemed you were half-expecting him to fold on the spot. No way was this a game your college friends taught you; you just wanted to play him. Make him lose.

And Joel was a man who couldn’t stand to lose, no matter the stakes.

You watched that failure-averse glint eclipse every shade of lust in his eyes, at least momentarily. Suddenly, Joel didn’t look so fearful of your father’s wrath or what lurid implications this night might bring—he just had to win.

“You suck, you know that?” he said, at last, dropping his makeshift shield from the front of his towel and knocking you flat on the bed with a single push.

“You wish I would,” you grumbled, heart still jumping up in your ribcage all the same. You scooted back.

“I bet you will.”

The man was a menace when he had the will to be.

At length, Joel crawled over your body and made room for himself snug between your legs. The bulge that he’d been trying to hide all this time was now heavy on your center, pressed tight to your stupid-thin shorts and the panties you’d conveniently forgotten to wear. He grinned.

“Are tongues allowed?” he hummed.

“Everything but hands,” you shrugged.

Try as you might to play it cool with him, though, every fibre of your being was alight with desire for the man on top of you. You flitted a look between his soft brown eyes and slightly parted lips and could’ve melted in that bed had Joel not lowered his head and dove right in for it.

His mouth was far gentler than expected. Reverent, even. He slotted his lips between your own and made a fine, delicate showing of just how tender and adept he could be while imparting his slow, sweet kisses. Skirted his tongue across your bottom lip before driving it inside, coaxed your mouth open to him in a matter of seconds. He was graceful. And patient. And lithe with that tongue.

Joel Miller was showing off for you—the bastard.

“Sweet little thing,” he groaned against your mouth, “Ain’t felt a tongue this shy on mine in a long time.”

Of course he’d try taunting you, too. Same old Joel.

“What’s it been? Two years since a woman let you touch her?”

“Twenty since I felt one this good.”

You would’ve liked to reach around the back of his head and seize a clump of that thick, dark, grey-speckled hair. But you couldn’t. Your hands remained plastered to the duvet beneath you, and then, just slightly, your fingers started to curl inward. Joel’s palms laid flat on either side of your head.

It felt weird; mashing lips, teeth, and tongue with a man who’d been alive about twenty years longer than you and went further back with your father than you could even remember. What felt even stranger was the fact that you couldn’t touch him, or take him between your two hands.

Joel’s tongue continued roaming every contour and crevice of your mouth like he had an ache for this taste that he just couldn’t quench. Your tongue tried keeping up, too, but frankly, you were too preoccupied by a pulse between your legs—your parts and Joel’s practically throbbing in time with one another—to work just as hard.

Even through the towel, he felt huge.

You whined when Joel started to grind up against you, and shortly, those fingers of yours that had just been grazing the sheets before were gripping them. Tight.

“Earlier…” Joel murmured between kisses, hips working a vicious pace against you, “You said you were hungry.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry—starved,” he corrected himself, and you almost could’ve smacked him for being so smug about it.

“What’s your point, Miller?” You were fisting the sheets beneath your palms and gyrating your whole body to meet the motions of the man currently dry-humping you.

All of a sudden, Joel’s movements stopped.

He peered down at you with a curious look.

“I could go for something to eat, too,” he declared.

You blinked. Stared. And just when you’d opened your mouth to say, well, maybe you should’ve grabbed us a bite to eat when we passed that Burger King on the way in, dipshit, Joel’s torso started to move down your own. Slow and painstaking as ever as he made sure not to graze one inch of your skin with his hands while he did.

You leapt back against the headboard, almost cracking your skull on the wood.

“Joel— Joel,” you hissed as the heels of your feet dug into the mattress below, and Joel just sank even further.

Then he was slowly, scrupulously pinching the fabric of your shorts between each index finger and thumb, gaze trained close on your lower half to make sure he never touched you, and he started pulling it down.

“This isn’t—” you started again, only to be offered a soft shush and an even quieter rustle of the cotton material sliding down both your legs.

You dropped your head on a pillow and probably could’ve burned a hole in the ceiling with the wide-eyed look you fixed on one spot, in utter disbelief of what he was doing.

“No panties, huh?” Joel observed. Gentle puffs of his breath were now fanning across the whole bare expanse of your lower half, and your pyjama bottoms were shortly discarded. His face was just hovering there, and you could tell that he knew you knew by the way he lowered his voice and brought his head to have only the tips of his chin stubble grazing your abdomen, “You needed this.”

Some lone remnant of ire flashed in your eyes.

“I don’t need shit from you, Miller. You need me. And you’re gonna lose this.”

Even though your gaze was still trained to the ceiling, you could feel him grin against your delicate skin.

“Hey,” he mumbled, “You said tongues are fair game.”

Fuck me, you wanted to keen the second his lips made contact with your…lower ones, and Joel swiftly got to kissing you there just as he’d done to you above. Hot, soft, and tender as the first rays of morning sun heralding a new day, he sponged his lips across the seam of your heat and made as if to massage the place, gently.

You could hear as well as you could feel that effusion of desire leaking out of your cunt and pooling around the man’s mouth. How eager he was to lap it up with his tongue, to grace your ears with those delectable squelching sounds, he caressed every inch between your folds and only sank deeper when you whined above him.

“Joel.”

Right now you couldn’t look down. Not with the way your legs were already trembling around his head, your chest heaving with the fastest, most frenzied breaths. You’d sooner die before you watched him unravel you like this.

“Darlin’, you’ve got a man soaked.” Some sound almost resembling a chuckle reverberated between your thighs and sent a brand new shockwave of pleasure in its wake, “You like it when daddy uses his mouth on this needy, wet cunt, don’t you?”

Yes, yes, you did. But your answer was nonverbal: a sharp curl of your toes and a grip between your fingers so tight across the sheets that he saw you veritably could’ve torn the linens in two.

Neither of you had laid a hand on the other.

Joel was perfectly content to make do with his mouth for now.

“Got those sheets all balled up, you’re fixin’ to rip ‘em.”

“My tongue make ya feel that good, honey?”

“Poor thing can’t even breathe it feels so nice, right?”

So he’d seen you hiccup, try to steady your breaths, and fail before succumbing to a string of lewd moans. Joel saw you, and knew how you felt, as if he’d had his own secret gauge for how good his mouth was doing you in.

Surely, he could’ve sensed the words before they ever came out of your mouth.

“Touch me, Joel, please.”

His tongue was just then making a lazy circuit around your clit, mouth saturated in your juices, when he smiled.

“Nah.”

Curt and cruel as ever. Then:

“No matter how fuckin’ perfect this pussy is, I ain’t losin’.”

He completed the arc with his tongue and took your bud between his lips, sucking in. You almost screamed.

“Motherfucker.”

“Miller, baby, Miller. Close, though.”

And just when you thought he’d had his fill of cheeky games, Joel sucked your clit even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves until you were writhing, crying on the bed above him,

“JoelbabypleasebabyfuckmefuckohfuckitfeelsoGOOD.”

It was a bit tough to decipher through your strangled, desperate moans, but Joel got the picture. Heeding your requests, he kept at that pace above your clit and slid his tongue back and forth, over and over, lapping up your honeyed glaze like it was the finest thing he’d tasted. Scruff harsh against your thighs, lips soft in a perfect suction, Joel Miller had your head swimming in desire and your better judgment dissipating before your eyes.

At the first sign of bliss, your muscles clenched, and the last linchpin of your resolve crumbled right along with it.

You carded your hands through Joel’s hair and grabbed hold of those locks with a full-throated moan, using his head for shameless leverage to buck and rut your hips into his face as you rode out the peaks of your high.

And, ever the gentleman, Joel fought like hell to keep his lips and tongue connected to your core while you writhed above him—this time at liberty to work his arms under your thighs and hold them since you’d given up the game. He would’ve smiled if he weren’t so narrowly preoccupied, seeing you thrash about and moan out loud and fuck his face like it was the last thing tethering you to earth. He liked seeing you come undone beneath him.

A bit too much, if he were being completely honest.

While you made the languid descent from ecstasy and your breaths were still slowing in your chest on the bed, Joel was back on his feet. Padding toward the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him as he had before. When he returned in a minute or two, he was clothed. He fished for his keys in the pockets of his snug, stonewash Wranglers and made a face. He didn’t look at you.

“I’ll be back,” he said, starting toward the door.

“Back?” You sat up, perplexed, “The hell ya goin’?”

“Out.”

This motherfucker.

“Did I miss something? Were we not just seconds away from getting down to some how’s-your-father?”

Joel visibly grimaced at your choice of sex slang. Under the circumstances, you would concede it wasn’t ideal.

“O-kay, sorry,” you returned, crossing your legs out in front of you, “I mean…don’t you want me to get you off?”

Again, Joel’s expression twisted into something just shy of overwrought, weary, and repulsed—a look that you couldn’t begin to understand, for the life of you—and you watched him flit his eyes from the bed to the door, again and again, seeming to be pining for the sweet release of leaving your shared motel room as soon as possible.

You’d been with your fair share of emotionally avoidant fucksticks, but most of them didn’t ghost until after they’d gotten their nut and felt no reason to stick around. Joel’s exit seemed premature. Strange.

“So you don’t want to fuck?” you asked, deadpan. You’d never been one for beating around the bush.

“Can’t,” Joel shook his head, bringing one hand to rest on his hip while the other fiddled uncomfortably with his car keys, “Your dad…that’s just— that’s crossing a line.”

“And being nose-deep in my cunt isn’t?”

You stared him down, incredulous.

So now he decides to claim the moral high ground, after coaxing you to soak every inch of his beard and cum all over his tongue? How very fucking charitable of him.

“That’s different,” Joel retorted, rubbing his knuckles in a nervous tic, “That was a game. I won. We’re done.”

You set your jaw just tight enough to keep your tongue in check and refrained from firing off a brash, unsavory remark. It wouldn’t do either of you a lick of good.

You let him leave. Joel had told you that you could keep the bed, he didn’t mind, and then he slipped out the door without another word. Leaving you cold and alone on the soiled, tawdry floral bedspread of Room 102, wondering what the hell had gone so wrong in the span of the last five minutes. From the center of the bed, you could see Joel’s Bronco pull off into the silent, frigid night.

You were still hungry as shit.

Rolling onto your side and rummaging through the bags at the end of the bed, you found nothing even remotely edible—save for, literally, one of Joel’s brownie edibles—and you groaned out loud. You threw your shorts back on, stepped into your old Luccheses, and did a quick circuit around the room to find your jacket before you left. As it turned out, you’d forgotten it back in Joel’s car.

You dropped to your knees and went back to tearing through luggage, searching for some suitable outerwear.

By the end of that second suitcase foray, though, you found you had nothing of your own that was hefty enough to brave the below-freezing temperatures outside, so you had to settle on a dark brown, fleece-lined coat from Joel’s bag. It was durable enough but about four sizes too big—and reeked of cigarette smoke.

You trudged outside, not really knowing where you were going or what you were hoping to find. Your stomach growled, and a few cool gusts of wind came to lap at the bare skin of your thighs where Joel’s spit was still drying.

You stepped a few feet out and turned toward the road.

Bal-ma-ceda’s, you read the seedy neon sign and heard Joel’s enunciation of the name ring between your ears.

What you wouldn’t give for the greasiest, girthiest, barely-FDA-approved 7-Eleven corndog to kill your thoughts about that sleazy little fucker right now.

You started toward the convenience store across the street but quickly found that it was closed—along with every other establishment on that stretch of road. You glanced toward the front office and caught a glimpse of your old friend dozing behind the counter. The speakers outside were playing a tinny rendition of ‘Piano Man.’

Just as you tried not to barf in your mouth at the sound and silently primed yourself for a long, long trek through the boonies to the nearest gas station, you stopped.

In a compact little breezeway that cleaved the motel in two, you saw light pool around an old vending machine.

You almost fell over yourself trying to get to it.

Never mind the fact that there were about half a dozen ragtag teens decked out in camouflage and comically tattered denim cutoffs crowding the area. All absently smoking and blowing o’s, or else sipping on cans of beer in the cramped, concrete passage, they looked bored. A couple lazy smiles broke out upon seeing your approach.

You nodded back and sidled up to the snack dispenser.

Then you zeroed in on the first sugar-packed products you could find: a pack of sour gummy worms and a bottle of Sprite—no, Mountain Dew—and a chocolate bar. Maybe a bag of Cheetos or Fritos thrown in for good measure. All of the snacks were probably stale as shit and hadn’t seen a replacement since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but you didn’t care. You were prying singles out of your wallet and salivating before you could think.

“Gotta kick it a couple times ‘fore it’ll spit anything out,” one of the boys lounging around you piped up.

You’d just inserted a couple bills and were waiting for the machine to dispense your gummy worms, when the thing appeared to stall. Stuck in its tracks, like he’d said.

You raised a brow and tapped the toe of your boot to the appliance, turning toward the one who’d addressed you,

“Like this?”

“Nope. Nuh-uh.” The redhead got up and strode over, where his much bigger, square-toed boot delivered a kick to the vending machine that almost toppled it.

A bag of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers dropped out.

The kid—who actually happened to be nineteen years old and a student at some college a few states away, along with his whole group of friends—was kind enough to repeat the same ritual for all of your treats. You’d just gathered your stuff together and were about to thank him for his services, when the guy presently stuck a hand in your direction and introduced himself as Connor.

Then Blake. Then Micah. Then Wyatt. Then Trent. All traveling with their team for a tournament that weekend.

Then a beer was held out to you. You declined. A little homemade deer jerky? No, thanks. How ‘bout some Oreos? I’m good on snacks, really. Well, shit, you seem a little high-strung, why don’t you take a hit right here? And Connor pulled his dab pen out from his pocket.

Well.

You hadn’t smoked in a minute. You might’ve decided to take a bite out of Joel’s brownie back in the room, but you hadn’t known how strong it was—or where the fuck he’d gotten it. The pen this stranger was offering you was one that looked similar enough to the kinds you’d seen passed among your friends a hundred times before that you felt comfortable taking one hit, maybe. Two max.

You felt stupid as soon as you’d sucked in every breath, but you ended up taking four hits in total.

You hacked and sputtered and blinked up at Connor, who was grinning big.

“Alright, hardass,” he chuckled, taking back the device.

“Daddy know you smoke?” Wyatt cut in with a sneer.

Daddy?

There was no fucking way Joel looked that old for everyone to think he was your father. You inwardly cringed.

“Y’all been spying on us?”

“Ain’t shit else to do around here.” That was Blake.

You tried to swallow but found your throat much drier than it had been before. And not just from the weed.

“He doesn’t care,” you said, managing a shrug.

It wasn’t entirely false. Joel did give no fucks about you.

“Dude looks like a— a fuckin’ DEA agent or something,” Micah said, amused.

“Like that guy from Narcos,” Trent snickered.

You’d never seen the show and didn’t particularly care to know what law enforcement archetype Joel appeared to embody—in fact, you didn’t want to discuss him at all.

Just as the first fuzzy beads of warmth began to roll into your head, you were already planning your exit strategy. Thank Connor for his selfless assistance and cannabis, bid the group a good night and the best of luck in their upcoming lax tournament, and be done with this shit, ASAP. You were still trying to steady your tongue in the bone-dry cavern that had become your mouth when one of them kicked at a near-empty case of beer at their feet.

“We’re about out.” Micah announced.

Seconds later, Connor was turning to you.

“Wanna…restock in our room?” he asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile as he looked down at you.

You crinkled your nose and shook your head. Connor leaned his whole weight against the vending machine between you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, “I think you wanna come.”

“Do I?”

You only entertained the backtalk because your brain was currently swimming in a far-off, pleasant void of contentment and indifference. Every sharp edge dulled in your mind, to an extent, and your body at ease. You didn’t have to be home to anyone, anytime, and Joel was probably halfway plastered at a dive bar down the road. You didn’t move back when Connor stepped forward.

He wasn’t even that close. You could leave whenever you pleased.

“For sure. I think you’d enjoy our shitty beer and even shittier company. We can smoke some more, too.”

The man certainly had a way with words. He muscled in a bit closer.

“You think so?” you hummed.

“I do. I really do.”

“And you’re willing to risk the wrath of my dad if he finds out where I am?” You made it sound like a challenge.

“Wyatt can fight.”

Connor motioned toward his friend, who was mindlessly chomping on deer jerky in his lawn chair off to the side, glossy-eyed and hammered. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but make sure he’s ready. I can only stay for five.”

Connor seemed wounded as he put a hand over his heart in mock dismay.

“Only five minutes?” he griped, “Why not ten? Or twenty?”

“Six.”

“Fifteen at least.”

You folded your arms over your chest and felt an opaque haze beginning to settle over your brain. It wasn’t quite a high, just a lightness of being that drove tender little streaks up your spine. Like Joel, tickling at your sides while you writhed around in the front seat of his car.

This time you took the beer Connor offered and cracked it open. He seemed pleased—and taken by surprise—to see you down the drink in spite of the overflowing foam.

“Ten,” you returned once you’d swallowed it all.

“Twenty.”

“Honey?”

The last voice didn’t belong to anyone in the group. You turned on your heels and almost coughed up your beer.

It was Joel, of course.

Standing at the threshold of the breezeway like a surly, disconcerted parent, of all things, watching you like he’d just caught you red-handed in the most horrific of acts.

Clutched in one hand was a Burger King takeout bag.

“Daddy. Hi,” you breathed.

Apparently your attempt at casual came across more slurred than anything else, because Joel stepped closer.

‘Let’s go’ was all he said. No accusations, no threats, no outward displays of emotion found anywhere on his face. Just a gruff ‘Let’s go,’ and a free hand reaching for yours.

Instinctively, you recoiled.

“We’re just talking,” you said, gesturing behind you. If you could have seen the uniform looks of discomfort and agita, damn near treading on fear, among them all, you probably wouldn’t have bothered.

“Good. Now you’re leaving,” Joel supplied in a moment.

He was blissfully indifferent. Asserting his will in a space where, less than one hour ago, he couldn’t bear to share a room with you, much less impart a shred of dignity or care to your condition. He had nerve, that was for sure.

“I’m not leaving,” you said, a touch more venom in your voice than you intended.

Joel raised both eyebrows.

“No?”

His expression, directed to you, was infuriating.

“Fuck no,” you answered.

A few of the guys behind you sucked in a breath as if to say, ‘Okaaaaay, time to go!’ but then Joel pressed,

“For someone who wants to be treated like an adult—”

“Adult?” you scoffed, “You treat me plenty like an adult, Joel. Just whenever the designation suits your needs, huh?”

No one moved.

Well, Joel flinched a bit. Then he squeezed your wrist.

Truly, you never failed to underestimate the man’s brute strength when it came to carrying you off at will—but there you were, being yanked behind the big, bad Joel Miller as he hauled you off to who-knows-where. You scowled but didn’t bother to steal a glance behind you at the beer, boys, or vending machine treats you were being forced to abandon. All you could do was stare a hole through Joel’s skull and tug back—largely ineffectually.

“You’re an ass,” you spat, digging your heels into the gravel terrain as he pulled you along.

“You’re a brat,” he fired back.

In a minute, the exterior of Room 102 was coming into view; Joel was practically toting your ass like a knapsack.

“You just abandoned me back here, Miller. You— you don’t get to pretend like you give a fuck now.”

“I was getting you Burger King, for Christ’s sake.”

Joel was fiddling with the lock now. Simultaneously juggling your hand, the paper bag, and a set of keys that didn’t seem keen on cooperating, he huffed, disgruntled.

“Even got you those—” Joel grunted, thrusting his shoulder into the door, “—fuckin’ curly fries you wanted.”

Your jaw slackened. That was supposed to make it okay?

“Joel, FUCK your curly fries!” you cried, “Are you seriously still trying to play good guy right now?”

“If that’s what you—”

“No. You don’t get to tonguefuck your friend’s daughter and buy her a goddamn Double Whopper and act like it’s all good. Sure as hell don’t get to dictate who I talk to.”

Like he had before, Joel cringed to hear your crude language—particularly as it related to what he had done to you but didn’t seem capable of owning up to just yet. You couldn’t bear another second of that look.

“Fuck this. I’m sleeping in the car,” you grumbled.

You thrashed your arm out of Joel’s hold and started off in the other direction. Picked up your pace when you heard the bag of fast food drop to the ground and Joel trotting after you. Calling your name.

Even at your most brisk, you knew you couldn’t outstrip those big, beefy legs of his. He gained on you in seconds.

So you took off running.

Joel gripped his side, thinking, ‘Aw, hell’ before breaking out in a sprint just as fast.

You were pissed at how far he’d parked this time around. You caught sight of the old Bronco perched a ways away from your room and almost opted to change course on the spot, to the front office—maybe dive behind the counter and beg that poor old woman to give you another place to stay—but you kept at it, anyway. For once, you were glad to have had Joel beat by so many years, because the man’s endurance was, evidently, shit.

“Hey, s— stop!” Joel shouted after you.

Fat chance, Miller.

You closed in on the car. Joel rarely ever locked it.

Your hand secured a grip on the door and jerked it back. It swung right open.

Just as Joel was pulling up the rear, you had the driver’s side slammed shut and your palm laid flat on the door lock knob—shoving the little black lever down each time Joel tried to unlock the car.

It was a fruitless endeavor, you knew; you couldn’t keep the man out all night so long as he had the car keys in his hands. You could piss him off some more, though.

“You won the fucking game, just take the bed!” you said, straining against the door with your weight pressed hard on that knob. Joel was furiously working to get it open.

“I mean it, Joel, I-I don’t wanna sleep in there wi— shit.”

You leapt back in your seat as Joel flung the door wide open. You scrambled across the center console, made a desperate grasp at the passenger door to climb out the other side, but your ankle was taken between two hands. Just as you tried to slink out on the opposite end of the vehicle, Joel pulled you right back in. Flipped the center console up so you were sprawled flat across the bucket seat at the front of his car and pinned underneath him.

Then he pulled you over his lap.

Not into it—nestled on top of his crotch, with your ass pointing up in the air. Joel’s big ass Carhartt jacket was bunching up around your torso, collar crowding you up to the chin. Your twisted just far enough to meet his gaze.

“What do you want from me?” Joel demanded, “What?”

You stared up at him, poring over your options in the span of what seemed like two milliseconds. Wondering, silently, why he wasn’t touching you anywhere.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel,” you replied at length.

Seated between driver’s side and shotgun, Joel looked perfectly unperturbed, raking a hand through his silver-flecked hair and letting his gaze trail up to the ceiling, as if considering something of grave importance.

“And what after that?” he asked, still staring at the roof.

Before you could reply, though, he was forging ahead,

“What happens when I can’t even look your dad in the eye knowin’ I’ve been balls deep in his little girl, and every fuckin’ time I’m over at your house or you’re over at mine, I’ll be thinkin’— no, dreamin’ of what it was like to have you wrapped around my cock, screamin’ my name and takin’ it so deep inside you like I know ya want it?”

You paused a beat. Had to bat your eyes a couple times to rid your head of those filthy thoughts he’d planted.

“We could, uh— fuck…then…too,” you ventured quietly.

Joel grinned at the spot he was watching, humorless.

“That easy, huh?” he mumbled.

Again, before you could speak, Joel continued,

“I can’t even cum with you on my mind,” he said, and for a split second you thought that might mean he wasn’t attracted to you in that way, when he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, “I’ve tried beating off twice today—in the bathroom and as soon as I left earlier—and I can’t…even get close with you here. You fuck with my head.”

You fuck with my head.

Without meaning to, your hips stirred over his, and Joel audibly groaned. At last, he dropped a palm to your ass and gave it a taut smack, and your whole lower half reverberated with the sensation—and a welt of pleasure.

“You think I want it to be like this?” Joel said, voice strained, fingers kneading over the flesh he’d just struck, “Think I enjoy havin’ the biggest set’a fuckin’ blue balls known to man whenever I’m around ya, honey?”

You winced when you were spanked again, letting out a whimper into the seat’s charcoal-colored upholstery.

“I can help with that,” you hissed, feeling him massage the spot once more. You arched your back into his touch.

“No. You’d make it worse,” Joel shook his head, “Once I get a feel inside this sweet cunt I’ll never wanna stop.”

At the soft rumble of his words, you felt yourself growing aroused. Noticeably so. Your skin broke out in broad swaths of gooseflesh every place he touched, and in the wake of those hands grew a pool of dull warmth. Sticky, slick, soak-straight-through-your-shorts sort of warmth.

Joel’s hand hovered about an inch from the source.

“We’d get bored eventually. It’d be fine,” you said, words crawling off of your parched tongue with some difficulty now. That faint, heady feeling from before had become a high, finally, and it seemed every sense you possessed was ablaze with desire. You were barely able to breathe, much less speak, but there you went, rambling anyway,

“Soon enough, you’ll get over the thrill of screwing me, and I’ll find a nice, polite, age-appropriate boy to spend the rest of my life having nice, polite sex with, and we can both pretend like this never happened. Deal?”

It was quite possibly the dumbest offer you’d ever made.

Joel slotted his hand between your legs to rub against that dampened patch of fabric. You almost jumped.

“Yeah? Just fuck around and forget about it?” Joel spoke, and you truly couldn’t tell if it was a sneer or real sincerity, as your eyes were squeezing shut, “Is that all you want from me, sugar?”

His fingers slipped beneath your shorts and made swift, easy contact with your heat. You buried your face in the seat and tried to muffle the sounds that were clawing their way out of your chest, while your hips tilted up.

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered.

By now, your head was spinning, in a daze, that you almost didn’t notice him tug your shorts down your legs. Or take them off at your ankles. You did get a sense of when he was breaching your folds—taking two, meaty fingers and trailing them up the slick glaze of your cunt.

“Doesn’t seem like this pussy wants ‘nice and polite’ to me,” Joel murmured, eyes gradually fastening to that lovely, exposed spot pointed up to him. He wet his lips, “Needs somethin’ else, doesn’t she, darlin’?”

Speaking of your pussy in third-person wasn’t something you ever thought could be hot, but coming from Joel? While his fingers traced up and down the seal of your entrance, tips circling your tight, hot, throbbing hole? Arousing didn’t even begin to cover it.

You pushed your ass back, and Joel chuckled above you.

“Wanna fuck daddy’s fingers? Is that it?” he taunted.

No, no, no—you wanted his cock buried inside you. But now you just needed reprieve from that ache, and your senses were practically on the fritz trying to get it.

Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingers—sliding the two digits in and out of your cunt with each motion—and, as much as Joel would’ve liked to make you beg and wait a little, your desperate pleas as you fucked his hand were more than enough to satiate him. He worked his free arm under your body and pinched hard on one nipple, eliciting a soft moan of ‘Joel’ underneath him.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, watching you rut your hips for more friction, “That’s it, baby, fuck daddy’s fingers. Use my hand to make yourself feel good— that’s my girl.”

At the last, you probably could’ve cum on the spot, and Joel could tell by the way you clenched around him. He nudged a third finger between your plush, sensitive walls and heard your moans take on an even higher pitch.

“Hurts,” you whimpered, with no real indication of pain. You just felt stretched out, stuffed, and aching again. The only ‘hurt’ was not having even more of him in you, “Need more of you daddy, please. It hurts.”

Joel wanted to see you cum on his fingers. He really did. But when you got down to begging and pleading for his cock like that, the man’s whole heartbeat throbbed in his jeans, and he simply didn’t possess the resolve to refuse.

He hoisted you upright in his lap so you were straddling his hips. The fabric of his jacket hung loose off your frame and both of your arms as you latched around him.

“Are you high?” Joel asked, voice evening out all of a sudden to pin you with a serious look.

“Yeah.”

“How high?”

“I can consent, Joel.” Your thighs tightened around his sides, and your hips had already begun to stir.

“Not just can consent—do consent. Do you want this?” Joel’s hands moved from the small of your back to cup your face. You gave him a squished-together pout.

“Yes, I want this,” you managed through pinched cheeks. When Joel released you, you lowered your own hands to the buckle of his belt.

It felt foreign and familiar at once—this age-old ritual of fumbling for each other’s clothes and wrestling to get them off, like your bodies might catch fire if you didn’t act fast enough. Joel was a tad more graceful as he shrugged his jacket off of you, peeled your tank top off, and helped you maneuver your bare limbs around him. You, on the other hand, felt half-feral and every bit the wide-eyed novice while you stripped his body garment by garment and wordlessly told him just leave the jeans, I can’t wait another fucking second. Joel bit back a grin and had to steady you above him, feeling his cock twitch against his tummy but still slowing down enough to remind you, shhh, shhh, honey, it ain’t goin’ nowhere.

You had a tough time remembering that as you rubbed your wet centre over his shaft. Feeling so good you feared the feeling might escape any second, you whined.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel cooed as your head fell in the crook of his neck, “Still hurtin’ somethin’ awful, hm?”

The tip of his cock just barely grazed over your clit and you buried your face even deeper, nodding furiously; Joel leaned forward to grab some item out of the glove compartment behind you and braced your body to him.

He tore something with his teeth. You craned your neck just slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” Joel muttered, voice momentarily stifled by bright, metallic wrapping.

“Is that…” You straightened up enough to cock a brow at him. Joel’s tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek.

“Cobwebs and all.”

Beneath your gaze was the flimsiest, dust-ridden, damn-near vintage condom—a decade old, at least.

“You buy that before or after the Great Depression?” you teased.

“Shut up.” Joel was already working it onto his dick.

“So Prohibition-coded.”

“I can find something to shove in that mouth, y’know.”

You were having too much fun at the old man’s expense, blissfully unaware that Joel was about one Gen X joke away from making you suck three of his arousal-soaked fingers. When you opened your mouth to speak—to try another wisecrack or else question the integrity of this ancient relic of a rubber—Joel crashed his lips against yours and made you mute with his tongue instead.

At the same time, he slowly eased himself inside you.

Your mouth fell open when you sank down on his length, fully, but no sound came out. You just gripped Joel’s shoulders and peered into his face as if to say, ‘Shit.’

No way any man was ever meant to feel this good.

No shot your walls were fitting his cock like a glove.

Joel soaked in your gaping, wordless stare with a nod.

“Good?”

“Great.”

You’d give all eight inches of the man a goddamn standing ovation if your legs weren’t feeling like jelly. Joel let out a small grunt when you clenched around him.

“Nice and…easy,” he said, as much to himself as to you. He pinched your hip in one gigantic hand and held you there, “Let ya take a second and adjust, alright, darlin’?”

“But Joel—” you whined, already trying to slide back up.

His grip kept you impaled on his dick, anchored in place. With the other hand, he brought a thumb to your clit.

“Just feel me, sweet pea,” Joel said, slow and languid as molasses while he touched you, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

You couldn’t be sure if the man was a sadist or the world’s biggest fan of cockwarming—or just polite.

The bare, slightly-less-sexy truth was that Joel hadn’t done this in a very, very long time. Even the sex he’d had, close to a year ago, was something more of a flashbang than a bona fide carnal experience; he’d just bent a perfect stranger over the bathroom sink and drilled her. This was a fever dream, a first to end all firsts, and at present, Joel felt himself toeing a razor-thin line between self-restraint and bliss by just your presence alone.

In short, he didn’t want to fuck it up by busting too soon.

When you rolled your hips and squeezed your eyes shut above him, well, Joel almost fell into a panic.

Think of golf. Differential equations. The weather in Kuwait. Anything to get his mind off of how tight your pussy was holding him in, how lithe your body worked to grind above him while he sat there, so helpless and—

“Big,” you whined, stretched to the fullest you’d ever been. Unable to bounce up and down like you wanted but still squirming for more friction, “So big, daddy.”

Hockey. Geometry. Wind patterns around the Maldives. He held you even tighter, but your motions were growing desperate. You had to start moving.

“Joel, please,” you begged him.

“Baby, I’m—”

About to cum. I am two seconds away from cumming.

“Need you now, need you so—” your voice broke off in a moan as you sank your nails into his muscly shoulders, “So bad, daddy, please, please, please—”

On the seat beside you both, your phone lit up, buzzing:

Dad 💙

Fuck.

FUCK.

Your eyes locked on Joel’s in a shared look of panic and horror, and for once, your bodies stopped, perfectly still.

You knew your dad too well. Just as much as Joel did.

Your father wasn’t the type to call late at night unless something was up. And he wouldn’t stop calling until someone picked up.

“Should we…?” That whisper came from you.

Joel was frozen in fear, eyes now glued to the screen.

“Just…give it a sec,” he breathed, “Might be nothing.”

But his tone couldn’t mask the dread behind his words. He gritted his teeth and watched the phone ring.

It stopped.

Then started again.

The pair of you clung to one other in the old Ford’s bucket seat like your dad might veritably hear the two of you having sex from 1,300 miles away if you moved.

It stopped once more.

The screen stayed black.

You let out a small sigh and felt your eyes start to close.

Then the trill of a ringtone under Joel’s ass started up the second they’d fluttered shut, and suddenly your gaze was wide, and frightened, and freaking the fuck out when you realized that your dad was trying to reach Joel.

“Answer,” you hissed.

“What?!” The whites of Joel’s eyes were bigger now than you’d ever seen them.

“He’ll know something’s up! Just—” you slipped your hand under Joel’s rear, completely devoid of any sexual insinuation this time, and yanked his old iPhone 6 out of his pants, “Answer it. Now. Be cool.”

Joel’s expression was still paralyzed with terror, but he brought the ringing phone to his ear anyway. Gingerly tapped ‘answer’ once you’d smacked him on the bicep.

“He-e-y man.”

You were so fucking dead.

Your face hovered mere inches away, and you could almost hear the warble of your father’s voice on the line.

“Great,” Joel answered, stilted as a puppet with someone’s hand up its ass, “So good. How are you?”

A beat.

“She’s good, she’s good.”

For a moment, Joel’s gaze flitted to the spot where your bodies were still connected and you saw a flash of desire, followed by guilt, then his head tip back to close his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“In the bathroom…Uh-huh…Phone must be dead…”

“No, she’s been a trooper—just fine…”

“Somewhere just shy’a Bedford, I think…”

You listened to Joel drone on and clench his jaw, and every now and then you’d feel a squelch in that tiny space between you two when one of you moved, and it occurred to you then that it probably was not in your best interest to stay seated on his dick while he talked. You shifted your legs underneath yourself to get up.

When you started to slide up Joel’s shaft—the first time you’d ever really moved, mind you—you felt a knot in your tummy start to tighten. The friction was to die for.

You sank back down and heard a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it.

At the same time, Joel groaned. Then stopped himself. Then coughed—profusely.

“Sorry, just got a little—” Suddenly, a fiery set of eyes were searing holes in your head, angry as they were desperate, “—tickle in my throat is all.”

You ignored the strained Southern drawl and the eyes that looked ready to put a bullet between your own, and you rocked your hips again. The sensation was just too good. Your body practically acted of its own accord, and suddenly you were bouncing up and down in Joel’s lap.

The man beneath you looked enraged. Aroused.

Ready to wring your neck and maybe spit in your mouth.

“World’s movin’ too. damn. fast,” Joel seethed, trying to communicate to you semi-covertly while you rode his cock, “She’s one hell of a— firecracker, man, I’ll tell ya.”

You heard your dad’s laughter on the other end. While the sound subsided to chuckles, Joel grabbed your neck. He covered the mouthpiece for a second, then, in a murmur,

“This is not a fucking game.”

He squeezed your throat so tight you probably could’ve lost all circulation going to your head, but you smiled.

In spite of the hot, glowing embers of pleasure taking shape at the pit of your stomach and the coil that kept twisting and swelling inside, you grinned down at him. Then you mouthed, softly, ‘Yes, it is,’ and you rocked your hips against him even harder.

Joel drew in a breath through his teeth and watched you ride him with bleary, half-hooded eyes—keeping one hand on your carotid as the other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The man was transfixed.

By the pinch of just one set of fingers, you knew you were done for. A dwindling supply of oxygen, combined with your high and the hundreds of nerve-endings being brushed by Joel’s cock every other moment, you were spiraling toward release and didn’t know how to stop it.

When Joel pursed his lips and lifted his hips to start fucking up into you, you had to let go. Couldn’t hold on. You grabbed hold of his forearm, still hovering across your throat, and you moaned as the bliss washed over you. You slid your needy lower half back and forth, squeezed that tanned, tough arm practically bulging with veins above you, and you came around Joel’s cock. You whimpered his name, again and again, feeling him stroke your walls and fuck you through a euphoric high.

The next thing you felt was the seat cushion behind you—and the shift of Joel’s body weight pinning you down.

His cock hadn’t slipped an inch when he flipped you over; his grip was still secure on the phone.

The only thing that had changed was that look: malicious and vindictive with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Joel felt you pulse around him, starting to come down from your high, and he just decided to fuck you even harder.

“Shouldn’t be much longer now…” Joel hummed aloud, lowering a hand to your throbbing clit and muttering a soft ‘Uh-huh’ to your father while you clawed at his wrist.

“Joel,” you choked.

Now the feeling was too much. You were still so wet, raw, and sensitive that the pad of his thumb almost drew a shriek from your chest when he moved his finger in circles. You heard them chat about football. Joel shared a short, strained laugh with the man on the other end and pretended not to hear your whines as he continued to rail you senseless in the front seat of his car.

With the diversion of the phone call keeping his own climax at bay, Joel was free to fuck you as rough as he pleased—and couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again.

“Please, daddy, please,” you beseeched him, tears springing to your eyes as Joel’s thrusts kept shaking you.

He just shook his head and smiled as if to say, ‘Hold still.’

“It’ll be fine,” he said, “Mahomes is next-level. Best they can do is keep their heads down and take it, y’know?”

Your own soft, aching hole was taking the beating of a lifetime, and somehow, you managed to meet Joel’s gaze with a look that almost struck him as loving. That blissed-out, cockdrunk look of pure debauchery crossing your eyes in a way he hadn’t come to find in ages, if ever, was intoxicating. He felt the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him again, and suddenly he was pumping you faster, drilling you harder, gripping your throat and starting to sense his own climax draw near.

He couldn’t finish off like this.

Not talking shop and Super Bowl to your father—no.

Joel had to do something you might rightly hate him for for the rest of your life, and never forget, or forgive.

He lowered the phone, and right before he did, said,

“She just stepped outta the bathroom, actually. No, yeah, she’s right here. Wanna say hello?”

Your heart skipped a beat and nearly jumped into your throat. You tried to shake your head—fast—and even went so far as to try and dodge the phone when Joel brought it down to your ear, but that motherfucker had a grip like you couldn’t believe and wouldn’t stop stroking inside you or holding you down. You hated that you found Joel’s total dominance and control…kind of hot.

You flashed him the most nasty, bratty, ‘I’ll get you for this, Joel’ look you could muster anyway, and when he pressed the phone to your cheek, you mouthed a few more silent expletives before changing your air entirely:

“Hey, dad!”

Joel knew he was cooked from the second you said hello. Something objectively malevolent inside him got a rush to hear you speak to your dad in such a contrived, high-pitched tone of voice, knowing the unspeakable things he was doing to your body the whole fucking time. He could focus, now, with no need for any strained civilities of his own, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last long. He would not last long.

Might as well make it fun while it lasts.

“He…did,” you hummed, flitting your eyes up to Joel when he brushed your lower lip with his thumb—still holding the phone up for you while he rutted into you, “No, nuh-uh…Mr…Mr. Miller didn’t mind, no sir.”

Shit, the sound of you saying ‘sir’ was something that made Joel’s whole body lurch with pleasure. He made a mental note to have you call him that later and stroked your lip once more.

You tried to turn your face away—telling Joel, wordlessly, that you couldn’t keep up this conversation with your father if you had a thumb in your fucking mouth, but Joel didn’t care. He watched you pause for a moment, let just the tip of his finger press into your tongue, then, battling your better judgment, wrap your lips around the digit almost cautiously and suck. He knew you liked it, too.

He knew it by the way you bobbed your head, hummed, and nodded every time he thrust inside your aching walls and dragged his cock back out. The way your teeth clamped hard on his thumb whenever he grazed a particularly sensitive spot and how your lips held him in like a gag, or some other thing to keep you quiet amidst the moans and the whimpers bubbling up in your chest.

Suddenly, Joel was at your other ear, lips grazing skin and tongue praising your every move.

“My sweet girl.”

“Doin’ such a good job stayin’ quiet.”

“Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t ya, darlin’?”

From that point on, every single one of your father’s words over the phone fell on deaf ears—all you could hear was Joel. All you could feel was Joel. Your lips parted as if starting to speak, but all that would come out were small puffs of air, perfectly in sync with each one of Joel’s thrusts.

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad pressed. A hint of concern rose from his end of the line.

At length, Joel gripped both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders, and he grinned before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelped as you crushed the phone to your ear, hoping your father couldn’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

The sick, smug fuck currently wedged eight inches deep inside you almost burst out laughing. If you weren’t so perilously close to your fourth orgasm of the night, you would’ve told Joel to take a long walk off a short bridge.

“Just worried about grades a-a-and all,” you stammered.

Joel leaned forward and almost tore a scream out of your chest—his tip was kissing the edge of your cervix now.

“Yes, sir. I will.” You tried your hardest not to whine and almost let out a sigh, “I’ll…ask him about it, for sure.”

As bone-crushingly fun as this all was, Joel was close.

He could feel it in the furthest recesses of his stomach; he was about to blow his load.

So, leveraging his weight to strike just the right angle and pushing his thumb in to stifle your moans, Joel sped up and drew even closer, face-to-face, so he could see your every expression from a hair’s breadth away.

He was so near he could hear your dad’s droning voice. See you struggle to take cock the closer you got to your release. You hadn’t cum in such quick succession…ever, really. All but one of the guys you’d let between your legs before seemed like amateurs compared to Joel, and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you could make it to four.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and mumbled some ‘Sure, okay’ or other to your dad before casting a pleading look up at Joel. His hips were working up to a ruthless pace.

You covered the mouthpiece.

“I can’t, Joel.”

“Sure you can, sugar.”

“Joel,” you hissed, and tried to grab his wrist, when you felt your stomach start to cave. Every exposed inch of skin gave way to waves of heat, and your toes curled in. Worst of all, Joel was letting out sounds you hadn’t ever heard—short, ragged breaths that broke off in low groans—and it felt as though he were cradling your head. Holding you to him. Your eyes were locked on one another, your mouths practically panting in time, and what parts of you had not yet become commingled with him were practically coated with sweat. And shaking.

Then, in tones that rang like music to your ears:

“Alright, I’ll let ya head to bed, then. G’night, pumpkin.”

Your dad hadn’t even fully hung up the phone before you flung it across the car. Heels dug deep in Joel’s back.

“Cum for daddy,” Joel coaxed, “Cum all over this cock.”

You didn’t need much more instigation than that.

You came. He followed.

And it probably split his eardrum in two having his name screamed so fucking loud, but frankly, Joel hadn’t seen a reason for going deaf that he could’ve enjoyed so much.

Then, he didn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adored his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car.

Until it was in you.

Sticky, sweet dripping inside you.

You pushed Joel hard in the shoulder.

“Did it…”

“What?”

“Joel!”

You flipped your legs down and tapped his abdomen furiously, telling him, pull out, pull out right fucking now, and Joel gently obliged. Dragged his cock three-fourths of the way out when a frail, tattered condom came loose around the head of his cock and almost fell off entirely. That damn prehistoric rubber had broken inside you.

“JOEL!”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I— fuck.”

Joel scrambled to get his cum-drenched cock and what remained of the condom away from your body, but the damage was done. You started throwing on clothes.

“I’m ovulating this week, I am so fucking fucked!”

Joel swallowed, shimmying his boxers and jeans back into place and scoping the front seat for his shirt.

“What’s…ovulating?”

You wanted to tear your hair out at the root.

There was no way this man had survived half a century on earth and didn’t understand the menstrual cycle.

“It means I can get pregnant if we don’t get a Plan B up in this bitch immediately. Let’s GO!”

That part seemed to click. Joel almost fell over himself trying to find his keys, while you slid out of the Bronco.

“Where are you going?!”

“To— to try and get some of this shit out of me first!”

Joel bounded after you, and within the first steps, you were sprinting across the parking lot. Your sweaty, half-naked companion tried—and failed—to slow you down.

“Are you not on birth control?” Joel huffed.

“Are you not capable of buying condoms more than once every fucking decade—or three?” you snapped.

Your strides were growing wider and more frantic by the second. Joel clutched his side and struggled to keep up.

“I’m…sorry,” he grunted, more embarrassed and worn-out than anything at the moment, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t get your cum out of me, daddy.”

Your words couldn’t have gotten any more caustic or merciless—or inopportune—if you tried.

As it was, you were passing by the breezeway where all the bored lacrosse players were still lounging around, cracking cold ones, and craning their necks to see what the fuss outside was all about. The sounds of your feet racing fast on gravel and you and Joel’s raucous, bickering back-and-forth had caught their attention, and shortly, Connor was sticking his head around the corner. His expression—along with all the faces behind him—had twisted with horror. Confusion. A visible look of disgust.

Joel had just slowed down to catch his breath. He doubled over and braced both hands on his knees.

“I’ll fuckin’…duct tape my dick next time I hit it, honey!” he wheezed, barely loud enough for you to hear but perfectly audible to all the terrified guys around him.

Joel turned his head and almost groaned.

Then he was straightening himself back up, starting to retreat from the group who had him pinned with genuinely frightened—and nauseated—looks.

Joel normally wouldn’t care. This time, though, he threw his hands up and thought, fuck it, I’ll clear the air.

Over his shoulder, he grinned, yelling back to the guys:

“I’m not actually her dad!”

All of them stared back. Half-jealous, half-awestruck, Connor stood up, raised his beer, and called after him:

“I SURE FUCKIN’ HOPE YOU’RE NOT!”

#NO ONE SPEAK TO ME FOR AT LEAST A WEEK #THIS IS DISGUSTING #I AM DISGUSTING #DO NOT PERCEIVE ME PLEASEJE HAHAHAHAH #brain rot ❤️#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel

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k-hotchoisan · 2 months

Text

active recovery

sore thighs suck after leg day. thank god Yunho is there to offer his help to ease the soreness 🤍

genre/warnings: pwp, smut, contributing to the big cock!yunho agenda, leg day aftermath (soreness), it starts from an attempted massage and… yeah, size kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation, mating press position, breeding, fingering

a/n: haven’t written Yunho in a hot minute + my attempt of distracting myself from my leg soreness from leg day 😒

wc: 1.8K / apply for taglist here 🤍

You wake up and you feel like lightning struck your legs, especially your inner thighs. You groan, feeling the soreness shoot up your muscles every time you move.

And to think you didn’t do enough squats the previous day. Your legs tremble slightly too even though you try to minimise any movement to the best of your ability.

Your hand combs through your messy bed in search of your phone. You find it and immediately scroll to your chats, tapping on the first one with Yunho’s name on it.

[you]: I’m tapping out on gym today. My legs are fuckin toast.

[yuyu🐶]: sounds like a skill issue.

[yuyu🐶]: I’m joking please don’t block me.

[yuyu🐶]: I’m coming over with food and some help ok?

You manage to muster the strength to leave your bed to wash up at least, forcing yourself to get used to the electricity running through your legs.

The doorbell rings shortly and despite the jerks your legs were giving you on the way there, you manage to reach to the door to invite Yunho in, who has his hands busy with food like he promised.

He sets up the table and he ensures you’ve eaten well before the both of you go to your bedroom to hear what he’s suggesting.

“Which part of your leg is sore?” He asks, kneeling before you, giving your legs soft squeezes. You flinch and squeal when his fingers press against your thighs. Guess he’s got his answer.

“Lie down for me. I’ll stretch you out”, Yunho instructs, and you do.

Yunho starts with a slow massage, kneading against your sore muscles, ignoring your soft whimpers when his fingers press against a sore spot. It’s kind of working, but you still feel the sensitivity bursting through your nerves, and it makes you involuntarily twitch against Yunho’s touches.

You groan when Yunho applies pressure on your thighs. He pushes your legs towards you, and he leans in. You try to ignore the suggestive position of Yunho’s crotch just pressing against yours while he’s stretching out your thigh, focusing on hoping to relieve any ounce of soreness at least.

Unfortunately, your soft groans aren’t helping with the situation. Try as Yunho might, ignoring you only seems to have your moans go straight to his dick.

“Y/n, as much as I adore your voice, I’d appreciate it if you kept it to a minimum. It’s distracting.”

“I can’t help it if I’m this sensitive”, you pout, not realising you ticked something in him. “And also your reactions are cute with your ears all red like that.”

Yunho narrows his eyes, ignoring your words , and instead focusing on trying to finish your massage. When he’s done with one side, he switches to the other, doing the same action of folding your legs against your chest, his thighs getting dangerously close to your pussy once more. Your thoughts are starting to float to a less pure space.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You and Yunho are just simply gym buddies—well, gym buddies who have some sort of funny tension going on recently. And now that he’s just this physically close to you—touching, pressing, stretching you, you can’t seem to get your mind out of the gutter.

It wasn’t until Yunho’s palm spread over your thighs once more, massaging against your thick flesh that you let out another sudden moan at the pressure, that Yunho seems to hit his limit. It’s enough that he’s holding back considering that his hands are getting dangerously close up further your thighs, the way he had himself pressed against you at a rather interesting position, but you, moaning at every touch he’s applying onto you? He can only hold back so much.

“Sorry Yun. It’s just… it feels so good when you do it like that.”

Then, Yunho has you under him, he towers over you on your bed.

“They say active recovery is good for soreness. Lucky for you, I know a pretty good form of active recovery. Your thighs are gonna be doing a lot more stretching though.”

You swallow hard, wondering if you should take on what he’s trying to allude. Seems like you pressed a little too much of his buttons. Oops. Not that you wanted to complain though.

In the most twisted ways, you always wondered how Yunho would compare—his build wasn’t large, but he’s still big. His hands are big—and he makes carrying dumbbells look like toys. You always wondered where else would be big.

And now, you’re about to find out.

“Now, keep your legs open like this for me”, he instructs. Your bottoms are peeled off you in seconds, and you have your legs spread open. Yunho’s fingers pry your lips open to get his pretty fingers wet enough, then he trails down your wet cunt, circling your clit slowly.

“You gotta relax for me, baby”, he coaxes you in a tone that’s sending you butterflies in your stomach. “If you can’t take my fingers, my cock is gonna snap in you, y’know?”

That’s all the warning he gives before his slender fingers plunge into your wet heat, and your brain completely melts at the feeling.

“Good girl”, he comforts. His other hand is gently rubbing and massaging against your thigh once more, ramping up the sensitivity before he trails down to accompany his other hand, fully rubbing circles on your clit.

Your back is arched from how much Yunho is pressing against your g-spot on top of stimulating your clit. It’s making your toes curl and your mind go blank.

“Gonna cum Yun,” you mutter through heavy breaths. Yunho is kissing up your neck to your jaw before his lips are on yours, the movements of his fingers encouraging you to release all over them.

“Cum for me, baby. It’ll feel so good, I promise”, Yunho whispers into your ear, snapping the knot in your stomach.

He eats up your moans with his kisses, taking advantage of your mouth when your orgasm rakes through your whole body leaves your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open.

Yunho’s cock is soaked and hard underneath his shorts—it’s throbbing and pushing against the fabric of his apparel. So when you’re getting off your high, he has his pants off quickly too. His cock is thick and heavy, covered in precum, looking like the perfect thing to fill you up with.

His wet cock rests on your equally wet cunt, and Yunho strokes himself against your drenched folds, making sure his tip brushes against your clit every time.

“Yunho, please”, you mutter, your pussy fluttering against nothing, aching for Yunho to just fuck you.

“Not too sore to take my dick right?” Yunho teases, his gaze darting between your desperate eyes and the way cream from your pussy is decorating his big cock.

“I’m gonna be stretching you in more ways than one, babe. Be a good girl and take it for me, yeah?”, he smiles.

For some strange reason, you don’t feel the soreness in your inner thighs, or maybe you’re just so horny that it’s not the soreness that’s your main concern now.

You bite your lip, then your mind completely coming undone when you feel Yunho push his cockhead into your pussy, stretching your hole open as he accommodates his thick cock in you.

“Fuck. Look at your tight pussy trying to fit all of me in. I should fill you in for size training after our next sessions. Extra stretching sessions shouldn’t be much of a problem, right baby?”

Maybe you should take up on that offer.

The thought of Yunho fitting his fat cock to stretch you open just so your tight pussy can mold to his cock size after your gym sessions sounded way too fucking tempting, especially in your current predicament. You’re imagining the way he would coax your pussy to take more inches of him, and the thought of doing it right after your training sessions—being pumped full of endorphins and just Yunho’s fat cock—your pussy is just dripping and taking more of his cock by the second. Way too fucking enticing.

“Mm. That’s it, baby. Fit me in like this, yeah?” Yunho sighs when his cock finally bottoms out in you, your walls hugging him like a glove.

You gasp at the fullness. His cockhead is pressing against your g-spot but you feel it in your fucking throat, and any small twitches his cock is making in you is a contender to make you cum any second.

Your fingers grab onto his tensed biceps to give yourself some leverage, and Yunho is kind enough to wait for you to adjust, or maybe because he feels like he’s about to cum any second from the way your pussy is just squeezing him.

“Jeong Yunho”, you pant, trying to catch your breath. “You’re so fucking big. Fuck. Oh my fucking god, I feel so full.”

He chuckles, rubbing slow circles from your inner thighs and clit. “All the more we should train for that.”

Yunho and his fat cock are gonna be the death of you. You didn’t even need leg day to do it for you.

“God, Yunho, just fuck me already.”

“Gladly.”

Your head is thrown back the moment his cock pulls out of you and thrusts back into you. You’re not gonna survive this, you swear.

The moans slipping out of you grow louder and more lewd, and Yunho is gradually losing the ability to hold back when he hears his name in your high-pitched symphony paired with the way your pussy is just creaming all over him. He watches the way his cock pushes a bulge whenever he slides into you and it’s taking him everything to not to just rearrange your guts.

The pressure soon wears off, only pleasure flooding through your veins when Yunho fucks the daylights out of you. And now you’re growing greedy.

So is Yunho.

“You’re driving me crazy, baby”, Yunho is growing breathless whenever he feels your cunt sucking him in. “Keep doing that and I’ll guarantee you’re not walking straight tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan, Yuyu. Then you can come over to take responsibility, right?”

Yunho groans. God he fucking loves it when you’re like this for him.

So he responds by grabbing you by your thighs and lifting your hips slightly to make sure his cock fills you up all the way. His eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure, mouth slightly open as he listens to your voice climbing up in pitch at every thrust he gives you.

“So good. Ah fuck. You’re so fucking thick”, you cry through your fucked out delirium.

Yunho bites his lip, his thrusts growing more desperate and erratic with his cock just twitching for his release.

He settles your legs down, only to fold them so that your knees are almost pressing against your chest, making sure you fucking see stars while his cock fills you up over and over in that position, hitting your g-spot so fucking easily. You’re choking on your moans at this point, your orgasm just being dangled over your head.

“Fuck, right there! Gonna cum, Yunho. Oh god, that’s it”, you sob, your orgasm hitting you through shots of dopamine filling up your brain and flooding all over your cunt, pulsing against Yunho’s dick.

Yunho has his eyes rolled back when you’re squeezing uncontrollably against him, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm, listening to your cries like it’s his favourite sound for the rest of the day.

“Shit, I don’t think I could ever get enough of this pussy”, he mutters through pants. “So fucking perfect to cum in.”

Yunho squeezes your legs as he stills in you, making sure every drop of his thick cum is filling your pussy to the brim.

He jerks slightly before pulling out, still holding your legs open for him to watch his cum seep out of your pussy and onto the towel below. You squeal when you feel his long fingers push his cum back into your pussy. Yunho is never telling you, but it’s his silent way of putting his mark on you.

He soothes your thighs a little more even though he’s still finger fucking his cum back into you while kissing and biting the soft flesh of your thighs. ignoring your cries of overstimulation, before he closes your legs to lie them down.

“See, this is a form of active recovery too”, Yunho says matter-of-factly, looking up at you with a pretty deceptive smile with his head on your lap. You narrow your eyes, grabbing him by his scalp.

“I’m gonna blow your phone up tomorrow if I can’t feel my legs, Jeong Yunho.”

Yunho continues to smile, his fingers easily removing yours from his head.

“I guess that’s a yes to the extra training sessions then?”

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#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #jeong yunho #y/n x yunho #yunho ateez #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunho

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enhalouv · 2 months

Text

hyung line - when you want his attention while he's on the phone

a/n: another lil easing in w some pov !! hope u enjoy hehe

pairing: enha hyung line x fem!reader

warning: SMUT!, corporate!enha hyung line, derogative language (c!nt), oral, unprotected sex, voyeur, public-ish sex, a mention of a foot, cursing, lil dub-con

w.c: 1,541

Heeseung

“Well, I’ll be in the office quite late, so there shouldn’t be a problem with finishing it.”

Heeseung’s playing with the papers on his desk, a contract awaiting his signature. He knows it’s important, but it’s 3 hours past work hours and he’s finding it difficult to concentrate on the vital information dump.

Nonetheless, he tries his best. Soon enough, he finds himself absorbed in hearing what his colleague says regarding a business deal they’re both working on.

He’s so distracted, he almost misses you walking in.

Almost.

It’s hard to miss you when you’re in the lingerie set he brought you back from his business meeting in London. You look beautiful. Heeseung leans back on his chair, hand gripping the armrest as he shifts his legs forward to relieve the pressure of his growing erection.

The set was something he noticed in the shop window of a high-end sex store. Heeseung imagined your beautiful body gripped tight by the material of the lingerie. He hadn’t even hesitated to buy it, disregarding the quadruple-digit price tag entirely. The lingerie was barely concealing anything. Mesh and lace exactly hugging your skin the way Heeseung knew it would. God, he’s drooling.

“Well, the client needs to confirm the fee estimate before we can get started. But he’s barely responding…”

The voice of his colleague flows in one ear and out the other, his attention solely on the way you stroll into his room. His breath hitches when you drop onto your knees in front of him.

“Pay attention to your call, Hee. It must be important.” You’re being cheeky. Lips pulled into an innocent smile like you’re not working to unbuckle his belt.

Heeseung’s straining through his slacks, his grip on the armrest of his chair tightening as you palm his cock.

“Heeseung?”

His attention gets drawn back by the call of his name. “Yes?”

“Were you listening?”

“Sorry,” Heeseung chuckles, a hand going to grip the back of your head as you mouth at his cock through his underwear. “Just got a bit distracted there, what did you say?”

“I was saying…”

The call drifts out of his mind, his phone dangling precariously in his fingers. His business partner continues to update him on something- Heeseung doesn’t care. All he cares about is the warmth your wet mouth provides as you suck his cock down your throat.

Jongseong

You’d been acting up. Whined and tugged at Jay to give you attention while he answered an important work call.

You were being a brat.

Jay wasn’t so nice when you acted out. So, now you’re on all fours, being pounded by your boyfriend from behind. A hand firmly covering your mouth to prevent any noise from coming out, less the person on the other end hearing how Jay makes your head spin.

He’s relentless with his thrusts, a hand pushes your back into a deeper curve, and the other holds a phone to his ear. He’s responding with a steady voice, one that doesn’t give away the way he’s got you unravelling on his cock.

“Actually,” Jay cuts the other person off, slowing down his thrusts and pushing in deeper. “Can you relay that to my assistant, she’ll be much better at ensuring this job gets completed.”

You’re barely paying attention, the new pace making you drool from how deep your boyfriend is going.

“She’s here right now, let me pass you to her.”

Without hesitation, Jay leans forward pushing deeper into you and puts his phone against your ear. You begin to panic as Jay shows no signs of stopping. What the actual fuck is he thinking?

“Hello?”

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!

“Go on, love,” Jay’s voice is low as he speaks to you, careful to not let it get caught by the phone’s microphone. “Answer him.”

You grip the phone hard against your ear, trying to breathe deeply to steady your voice before responding, “Yes, h-hello, I’m Jay’s assistant. Please c-continue.”

The voice on the other end filters in and Jay’s being kinder and slowing down his thrusts, hips resting against your ass as he pushes shallowly into you. You’re thankful that he wasn’t being heartless, and you try your hardest to listen to what’s being said.

But before long, your hand slaps against your mouth as Jay pushes your back as deep as it curves and grips your hips and thrusts in so deep, you see stars. Jay begins a brutal pace, uncaring of how hard you’re trying to be quiet.

You’re absolutely fucked.

Jaeyun

He should be listening to his colleague on the other end of the call. This was an important business deal that would cost his company thousands if he fucks it up.

But you’re right in front of him with two fingers deep in your cunt, and his attention was otherwise occupied. There’s no way his eyes, let alone mind, could drift from the way you play with your pretty pussy.

You’re spread out on his desk, one leg up and the other hanging between his own. The heel of your foot presses against his hard-on, the pressure not being enough for his cock. His hips subconsciously grind up into it, his slacks straining against his thighs at the motion.

“Will you be in tomorrow? I want us to delegate some tasks to the team.”

Jake hums absentmindedly, lips tucked between his teeth as you slip your fingers out and lead them up to your mouth. He tries his best not to groan into the receiver as you lick your fingers clean, spit dribbling out your mouth in an obscene mess.

Fuck this.

He puts his phone on speaker and places it on the other end of his desk. With his now free hands, he grabs your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of his table and immediately shoves his face in between your thighs, desperate to taste your sweet cunt.

Your thighs wrap around his head, hands gripping his hair tightly as his tongue flicks against your clit and slides against you. His fingers creep up your leg making you shiver. You're straining hard to be quiet, biting onto the palm you've clasped over your mouth.

Jake's fingers circle your hole, huffing out a laugh when your whole body jerks at his teasing, and slides two in. He works two digits into your cunt, cum squelching as he pushes in deep. His mouth is back on your clit, sucking the sensitive nub into his mouth, loving the way you tense in his hold.

“Jake, you there? What was that sound?”

Parting from your clit, Jake still fucks his fingers into you. Uncaring of the way you're gripping his dress shirt, eyes squeezed tight as you're nearing closer and closer to orgasm. There's no way he's going to stop now.

“Yeah,” Jake sighed, his voice strained. “I'm listening. Just getting ready to head to the gym. Uh- stretching and stuff.”

“oh, okay… anyways-"

Jake doesn't hesitate to get his mouth onto your cunt just as you shake in his hold, cumming straight on his tongue. So worth it.

Sunghoon

Sunghoon’s barely paying attention to his boss in the other line as it is, but the moment you walk in with the cute loungewear set he bought you, his attention entirely zeros in on you.

The shorts are tiny and ride up your thighs as you walk towards him. There’s a cheeky smile on your face, and Sunghoon should know by now that’s never a good sign. But really, he can’t find his attention deterring from how glorious your legs look.

With no words being exchanged, you perch yourself on his lap. Sunghoon’s free arm immediately wraps around your waist, and he pulls you in close. He stretches his arm out with the phone so the microphone doesn’t pick up the chaste kiss he leaves on your lips.

“Hi there, darling.”

Sunghoon is infatuated with you, eyes never straying away from your face. He can’t find himself caring about the possible reprimanding he’ll get tomorrow for not listening to his boss’ instructions. His girl is in his lap, looking unbelievably gorgeous and grinding down into his half-hard cock.

Wait.

His mind short-circuits as you continue to roll your hips, a devious smile on your face as you watch Sunghoon’s reactions.

You pull his pants down until they’re halfway down his thighs, gripping his cock to stroke him a few times. Sunghoon’s hips jump at the contact, thighs tensing at the feeling.

You eventually lift yourself up with Sunghoon’s help, pulling your shorts to the side to show your dripping cunt. No panties. Good God.

Your hips circle the tip of his cock, teasing. He hisses when you slide down on his cock, you’re tight and so, so warm it has his head tossing back in pleasure.

“Sorry? What was that, Sunghoon?”

His boss’ voice filters through and Sunghoon has to remind himself he’s actually on a phone call. But the way you’re rolling your hips in his lap is making it a difficult task to remember.

“Ah, sorry, I just got a paper cut,” he lets out a fake chuckle, gripping your ass harder.

You continue to bounce on his cock and Sunghoon continues to lose his mind.

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merakidoll · 4 months

Text

welcome to the first of many - mirah’s unlike pairs series! first up, rockstar boyfriend’s geto and eren

you had a thing for long dark haired, toxic rockstars - obviously.

“m’there baby just a little more; yea?” you couldn’t reply to the sexy man even if you wanted to. the backstage room was filled with smoke, blut after blut, the high coming to you even though you weren’t even smoking. your cheeks were pressed hard against geto’s leather pants that caught the dark colored mascara tears. his would often rub your hot skin, big pretty eyes looking up at him; while your moans of pleasure filled the space.

“don’t go to hard on my baby, she didn’t mean it jerk” he would remind eren while bringing the thick blut to his lip taking a huge puff. “you’re too soft - m’pretty pussy - fuck!” eren got distracted at your clenching, and cream rings that formed around his cock slapping your pretty brown ass hard, then grabbing ahold of the white bunched up skirt. “too soft, pussy s’good she knows what she’s doing” your stocking stuffed heels clicked together as eren started to fuck you harder. the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting that specific spot in your gummy walls that made you cum yet again.

geto shook his head, a smirk on his lips from secretly agreeing with his bandmate. he took a long inhale, looking into eren’s big green eyes. “hmm” he leaned forward, making sure your head was still comfortable as he gripped his chin blowing the smoke into his mouth and ending it off with a rough tongue kiss. you couldn’t help but shut your eyes tightly, moaning so loud. your pussy was deliciously sore, mind clouded and dumb so happy to be feeling so good and be with your men; and the sight of the kiss wasn’t making it better. your lips were wet along with geto’s pants, slob from your not being able to control yourself falling all over him - be he didn’t mind because he was the good cop out of the two.

“yess” eren threw his head back, geto’s cock jerked underneath your cheek, cock growing more and more with each orgasm eren gave you passed. he watched his boyfriends abs flex as he grabbed your love handles and pushed you back against him harder chasing his high. with low eyes geto watched it all. how your eyes rolled to the back of your head, eren going deeper into you when he angled himself. the squirt that flew from between your both making yet another mess. he wanted so badly to clean with his tongue, but that thought would stay between him and his mind.

how eren’s greens eyes grew darker, his own cream stuffing your hole, watching how it dripped out of you and onto the dingy couch that was in the backstage of the set that had just - well hours ago; performed on. the second he pulled out, your fell into a deep cocoon of sleep that you drifted off to with lots of praise from both men. when your were rested on the other couch that was much smaller, eren lit his own blunt taking short strides to the man who hadn’t changed position. he stood in front of him, a semi hard dick and a blut slowly bringing it to the others lips groaning when he began to clean up the mess you made.

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mioons · 4 months

Text

단숨에 알아볼 거야, that feeling when

pairing. enhypen ot7 x fem. reader (hcs)

genre. fluff, est. relationship wc. 598 warnings. falling down, bruises, skinship

— enhypen when you trip/fall down. extra. none

LEE HEESEUNG would laugh at first but after seeing you actually in pain he stopped and immediately knelt down next to you.

“hey baby, you okay? can you walk?“ he’d ask while his fingers gently caressed the bruise to try and ease the pain. his demeanour was different from a few seconds ago.

he’d press his lips against the bruise to ‘kiss it better’ he says. honestly he was just trying to find excuses to have his lips on your skin.

PARK JONGSEONG would not let you fall. his hand would be holding you so tightly; so close. why would he ever let his precious baby get hurt?

if he ever saw you trying to keep your balance, he’d stop in his tracks to make sure you wouldn’t fall while doing so.

the thought of you getting hurt made his heart hurt, he never wanted to be the reason you got a bruise or anything of the sort.

“don’t worry baby, i got you. i won’t ever let you fall.”

SIM JAEYUN would fall along with you. purposely.

the moment he saw you fall down he’d pretend to fall as well and sit down beside you, grinning from ear to ear to try and distract you from the pain or the embarrassment.

if you were going to fall he was going to do the same. he would never let his favourite girl go through the embarrassment alone. he vowed to be by your side; even when you fell.

“i guess we fell for each other right?” he’d chuckle and kiss your forehead before helping you up.

PARK SUNGHOON would stare at you for a moment before registering that his girlfriend literally just fell onto the ground.

he’d go over to you and lift you up, carrying to a nearby bench before setting you down and inspecting your body for any bruises. he’d use one hand to stroke your cheek to calm you down and the other to stroke the bruise.

“you okay baby? i’m so sorry, i should’ve been more careful, my pretty girl almost got hurt.”

KIM SUNOO would be rolling his eyes and placing both his hands on his hips. how could his girlfriend be so clumsy? but he found it cute.

“you’re so clumsy baby,” he’d sigh before pulling you up from the ground and rolling his eyes once again, “that’s literally why i told you to hold my hand, but obviously you didn’t listen.”

you’d giggle and place a peck on his cheek, causing his face to turn red, “s-since you’re so cute.. i.. i guess i’ll let it slide.”

YANG JUNGWON would be the one tripping on his own and falling down.

you told him to tie his shoelaces before going out of the house but he didn’t and he ended up tripping on his own shoelaces.

you couldn’t help but laugh and thought of how undeniably adorable he was. “jungwon, i already told you to tie your shoelaces right?”

“i was just showing you how i fell for you the first day i met you!”

NISHIMURA RIKI’s face would contort into one of amusement. he’d be laughing his ass off the moment he saw you fall; wiping the tears with his sleeves.

“god when did i start dating a clown?” he’d chuckle and hug his stomach.

without another second, you grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him down with you. “who’s the clown now?” you’d say and pinch his cheek playfully.

he’d shove you playfully with his shoulder and laugh as you two sat on the ground. “we’re both fools for each other hm?”

luvlyhee 2024 :: taglist open ,, send as ask to be added!

tl: @en-gelic @dioll @ohmydollie @luvvsim @chaewonshoney @jakesangel

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angelic--kitty · 2 months

Note

dilf arlecchino stretching out a virgin reader on her fat cock

dom!dilf arlecchino x sub!fem reader

warnings: smut (minors/ageless blogs dni), wlw content, transfem!arlecchino, virgin!reader, age-gap (arle is in her late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), size kink, fingering, penetration, handjob

a/n: tagging my favorite silly @myfriendscallmebun who i hope enjoys this ♡ this is so long

she first hired you merely as a form of entertainment for her children. someone eager to please who wouldn't require such a large salary. someone who, at least, would never ask someone like her for more than she offered.

it's a surprising decision, on her end, to select a college girl to watch over her precious children. though, you presented yourself so nicely at the interview, and your references and resume did you well.

besides, it might be nice for the children to be around someone closer to their age for a change. they often spent time with arlecchino herself and occasionally her coworkers.

and, you had grown on her.

it's been nearly two months since you started working for her, and a few weeks since you began passing flirtatious remarks to one another.

the thing that finally melted her heart was an evening she worked late. she was already irritated her children would be asleep when she got home, but she felt guilty making you stay hours late at her home.

much to her surprise (and inner delight), when she came home, she found the children tucked into their beds, and you standing so sweetly at the door.

you had slipped her jacket off, hanging it up and tugging her into the kitchen. sure enough, you had saved her a plate of the spaghetti you made, along with a glass of her favorite red wine.

that was the day when she finally asked you to accompany her on a proper date.

and, now, here you are, standing in front of your mirror, fussing with your dress and jewelry. the dress she had bought for you special for tonight. it was black, falling just below your knees- rather classy for someone so young.

20 minutes. in 20 minutes she was picking you up.

nervous as you were, you couldn't believe you were going on a date with her. especially to somewhere so expensive and exclusive.

it was some sort of upscale bar with expensive alcohol and food. somewhere arlecchino claimed to frequent often when she needed alone time.

you almost broke out into laughter when she admitted she hired childe, her younger coworker, for the evening to watch her children.

"oh, i'm not concerned for my childrens' safety. if anything, he should be afraid for his own." was her reply, a small smirk on her lips that you nearly missed.

she lead you into the restaurant with confidence, turning heads, eliciting whispers as she kept her hand on the small of your back while the waiter brought you to your table.

"what do you think so far?" she asked, her wine glass already being filled, no need to speak her order.

"it's...definitely different than what i'm used to. but it's really nice. i like having an excuse to dress up a little." you smile at her and she raises her glass to her lips.

"i want to spoil you for the evening. for not only treating my children so well, but because you are an exceptional woman. i only hope my gestures come off as genuine as i intend." she sips her wine, setting it down to begin rambling to you about the menu.

but you're not quite listening, distracted by her hands, her lips, her eyes. how could someone be so perfect?

she's quite a bit older than you, probably much more experienced. does she truly feel the same way you do? and-

"sweetheart?" she breaks you from your thoughts and you stiffen up.

"i'm sorry- i'm listening!" you squeak, but she sees right through you.

although, she finds it rather cute. she's noticed before, obviously. your wandering eyes, the way you bite your lip when she picks up something heavy like it's nothing, or how your thighs press together when she takes a stern tone.

she simply wants to know the depths of your affection for her. after all, she has similar thoughts of you.

"which dish would you like then?" she asks pointedly, allowing you to hold the menu with shaky hands.

"ah...um..." the words blur together, not registering. "what do you recommend?"

she tilts her head, taking the menu back. "allow me to order for you then."

you like when she takes control. she knows what she wants, and she will have it. you wish it a quality you embodied more, though she fascinates you. it is almost natural to her.

dinner goes rather smoothly, and you get to taste test a few different wines, but not nearly enough to get you even remotely tipsy.

"i much prefer coherent company." her lips quirk up as she says this, and you laugh behind your hand.

she's funny, you admit. her dry humor is one of your favorite things about her.

it's a shame when dinner comes to an end, but you two mutually draw it out as long as you can. you share a dessert, and plenty of good conversation about yourselves. you learn things about her you never would've thought, and likewise for her.

the ride back to your place is just as pleasant, though you feel nervous inside. you want to make a move. you want to ask her to come inside. to stay...

but you couldn't possibly. that would be absurd... right?

regardless, she walks you in, ensuring you get into your place safely. she's a gentleman in how she holds your bags and all the doors at every stop.

the little bit of wine in your system has you feeling bold, stopping her in her tracks before she could put her shoes back on. "wait! why... don't you stay for a little? i could make us some tea. herbal! so you won't...uh... be awake all night."

she merely tilts her head, nodding either way. she listens to your rambling about the tea and the coffee mugs you have, her eyes wandering your walls when she sees familiar art.

"did the children draw these?" she interrupts, taking one off the wall.

it's a rather rudimentary stick-figure drawing, but she can tell who each one represents. this is one of lynette's drawings. she's drawn herself with pretty blue bows, along with her brothers, and, of course, their father.

and you.

there you are, standing on the other side as if you were the mother to complete their family portrait.

"oh- those? yeah, the kids drew them for me... i thought they were really cute, so i kept them." you smile and her heart flutters.

she skims her fingers over the papers, pausing when she sees one from freminet. he's drawn a flower field of green scribbles and rainbow dots, the children playing on a swingset while you and arlecchino watch.

with the words 'mom' and 'dad' written above your heads.

she can hear you nervously talking to fill the silence, and she turns to you. "they really do seem to enjoy having you around." she murmurs. "as do i."

you look up at her, feeling her lean in, gently holding your waist. "am i being too forward?" she asks, breath fanning over the side of your face as you shiver.

"not at all-" you breathe out, trembling as she lifts your chin gently. she can see your anticipation.

"you're not phased by our gap in experience?" she asks. "it's inevitable. i cannot change it, but i do not want you to feel forced."

"i actually like it. i really like it." you blurt, catching her off guard.

"oh?" her voice is low, sultry as she cups your jaw. "is this alright with you, then?"

"please-" and that's all she needs to connect your lips, kissing you so softly at first. her tongue gently prods for entrance, and she can instantly tell you truly are inexperienced.

she pulls away, gently swiping a thumb over your cheek. "is this your first time?"

"you could tell?" you groan, and she nearly melts.

"it is not shameful to wait. i only want you to be sure this is what you want." she explains, stroking your cheek as your eyes flutter shut.

"i want you. please? i want you to take it." you leave it open for interpretation, but she knows exactly what you're referring to.

"if you're certain, then i'd be honored, sweetheart." she says so gently you'd think she was someone else.

you bring her to your room, cringing at the mess. "i know it isn't what you're used to but mmph-!" you whimper when she kisses you, pulling you onto her lap on the bed.

she trails kisses down your neck, watching you tilt your head back instinctively. you pant, overwhelmed so quickly she almost feels guilty.

keyword: almost.

instead, it makes her twitch within the confines of her expensive suit slacks.

her hand tangles into the back of your hair, tugging you firmly so she can nip at your jaw. she takes it slow, easing you into things until you're practically begging her to go further.

your dress slides off slowly, a treat waiting when she sees the pretty matching lingerie set beneath. it's white and lacy, delicate, something she could easily tear right off, and it drives her mad.

"aren't you full of surprises? naughty ones at that." she tuts, squeezing your jaw as you gasp.

she unclips the bra, her gently squeezing your breasts as you moan for her.

she teases your nipples until they go pert, wrapping her tongue around them as you arch up into her.

you're being vulnerable with her; she knows this much. she holds you steady, ensuring you feel safe on her lap before pulling away with a soft 'pop.'

she unbuttons her shirt, tugging it off to match you. she watches your eyes go wide, eager yet embarrassed as she tosses her bra aside with the shirt.

"you're so...pretty." you gasp quietly, eyes wide.

"you can touch me, sweetheart." she pulls your hand to her chest, allowing you to explore. your fingers clumsily rub her nipples and she grunts, guiding them into place.

"does it feel good?" you ask her so hesitantly, and she kisses the top of your head.

"you're doing well." she watches your gaze slide down, eyeing the growing bulge in her pants. she dryly grunts, lifting your chin up. "something catch your eye?"

"i... i'm sorry- i didn't mean to stare-" your words are mumbled, your face hot as your mouth goes dry.

"you're curious. that's alright." she brushes a thumb over your lips, coaxing you to open up.

she slides her thumb over your tongue, gently easing it a little further until you gag, keeping you just like that. your eyes are so wide and pretty, glazed over with untapped lust.

she hums thoughtfully before withdrawing, using the thumb to brush over the front of your panties. you gasp, thighs snapping shut as she pushes them back apart.

she lightly smacks your thigh. "keep them open." she rubs gentle circles on your clothed clit, your body clearly unsure how to react. she can see it doesn't take much to bring you to the edge, and she lightens her touch, able to control her own desires with ease.

her hand comes back to your lips, sliding your wetness over your tongue while her free hand slides your panties to the side.

something you've missed before, but she's filed her nails down on this hand. just for you, though only she knew that.

she gently slides her fingers through your folds, hearing you whimper and squirm on her lap. she tucks your head under her chin while she eases a finger into you, feeling you squeeze so tight around just one digit.

she gives you time to adjust, feeling you clutch her wrist. you're such an angel, aren't you? holding so tightly to her, so cute, all while you fidget right above her confined cock, inevitably making her grow harder.

her second finger slides in slowly, with an intent to stretch you out enough to take her cock more comfortably. she curls them inside of you, hearing you whine loudly into her neck.

"ah- that feels-!" you squeal when she brushes against your g-spot. her finger pads rub into it, and you tremble, thighs clamping down on her hand.

"relax." she reminds you, pumping her fingers in and out, slick sounds filling the air. she stretches you out every so often, spreading her fingers slightly and hearing you whimper so sweetly.

your hand clumsily rests on her bulge and her fingers still as she inhales sharply.

"i... want to- try and make you feel good too..." you whisper, looking up at her.

and who is she to deny such a sweet girl?

she pops open the button, unzipping her pants and freeing her cock, allowing you to see her.

your eyes go comically wide, shocked by the size. "that's... i-"

she can feel your walls fluttering around her fingers and she nearly moans. "it's alright. don't be nervous." she practically reads your mind, soothing your concerns as her free hand unwraps itself from your body, collecting some of the messy slick from your thighs, sliding it over herself.

"you haven't done this before, i presume?" she's met with a shake of your head. she proceeds to guide your hand in wrapping around her cock. she hisses through her teeth. "archons-" she groans lowly, her fingers resuming their gentle in and out motions while she guides you to stroke her cock.

"tighter." she tells you, feeling your hand grip more firmly, her pre-cum oozing over your hand, spreading across her cock. "good girl-" she praises and you clench around her fingers once more.

she says nothing, but she knows exactly how her words affect you. such a sweet little thing you are, curled up on her lap, fingers stuffed inside of you while your hand wraps around her cock.

her hand covers yours still, dwarfing your hand and guiding you into her preferred rhythm. "that's it. you're doing well-" she tips her head back, hips grinding into your hand as she lets go.

she allows you to move your hand on your own, finger-fucking you faster. she knows you're losing focus, too overwhelmed by your own need to cum, though she doesn't mind too much. you're just so sweet with how your moans pick up in volume, your eyes closing as your hips chase her hand.

"go on." she tells you, her voice stern as you release around her digits like such a good girl for her.

she slides her fingers out, admiring the webbed slick coating them, cleaning them in her own mouth as you shyly hide in her chest.

she pulls you away, laying you on the bed. "wait! you didn't get to..."

she shakes her head, pushing her hair back. "hush." she simply says, spreading your thighs, pushing them up to your chest. it exposes you perfectly, allowing you to feel shy, yet unable to cover yourself as she studies your twitchy cunt.

arlecchino uses one hand to guide herself through your slick, sensitive folds, gathering the remnants of your orgasm. she is gentle when she slides into you for the first time, a thumb on your stiff, swollen clit to ease the stretch.

she watches your eyebrows furrow, nose crinkling as she stretches you out. "so big-" you whine, chest arching up against her own.

your moans are melodies to her, feeling you flutter around her was like heaven. she lifts you up to sit on her lap while she leans back, guiding you to slowly take more of her in.

"too much!" you whine, looking down.

"you haven't taken all of me yet." she hushes you, easing you down to swallow her all in your pussy until you're mewling incoherently.

"full-" your head falls back and she grabs your hips, her nails leaving sharp little indents as she guides you to shallowly fuck yourself on her cock.

"such a pretty little thing." she coos, slowly growing more harsh, grinding up into you.

and, oh, you sing for her the rougher she gets. you urge her to grow bolder, now using your body as a toy while you desperately try to match her tempo.

you're inexperienced, but oh, so eager to please, aren't you? what a good girl.

she grabs your ass, fucking you on her cock while you keep a vice grip, your tits bouncing with each thrust. "oh- archons!" you squeal.

arlecchino picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, settling you beneath her instead, fucking into you with boundless energy.

she knows the right spots to fuck, where and how to grind herself into a woman, she knows exactly when to speed up and slow down. yet it seems you don't even know your own body fully.

and the thought of helping you explore with her is enough to have her twitching inside of you.

your incessant mewling and moaning of her name is driving her mad for you. her hand wraps around your throat, earning her breathless gasps as she urges you to cum for her.

"be a good little pet and cum." she orders, slick sounds penetrating the air, the smell of sex coating you both. "cum for me."

she rubs your clit harshly, watching you shake as you do cum, tightening up around her cock, sending her eyes rolling back into her head.

the moment you loosen up, she pulls out, cumming onto your tummy, creating a filthy mess as she moans deeply for you.

"fuck..." she sighs, squeezing her cock to ease the rest of her cum onto your skin.

you pant, looking up at her. your eyes are blown wide, but you look exhausted as you lay limply beneath her.

and, well, you'll soon learn her cock may need time to recover, but her mouth and fingers certainly don't...

#꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱─ 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 #ฅᨐฅ─ 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 #ʚ♡ɞ─ 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #arlecchino x you #arlecchino smut #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino #arlechinno genshin #arlechinno x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #arlecchino x y/n #genshin wlw #wlw #🐇─ 𝐛𝐮𝐧

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revasserium · 1 year

Note

Okay okay hear me out Rain: reader watching Sanji cook, just sitting, waiting, maybe reading a book but catching glances at him every so often and he knows they're looking at him and just smiles....sorry I love that man

accidentally in love

opla!sanji; 2,569 words; fluff, banter so much banter, flirting, flustered!sanji, whipped!sanji, no "y/n", confessions, "sweetheart", fem!reader, straw hat"!reader

summary: in which sanji is trying to cook dinner but you're very, very distracting. or, sanji finally meets his match.

a/n: i know i said i might not write for anyone other than zoro but i lied. i guess i'm a sanji bitch now too. fuck.

Sanji’s always liked to say that he can cook anywhere, anytime, given that he’s got something that resembles heat and a smattering of ingredients — like any great artist, he knows how to make do. But, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy this — the quiet of a ship’s kitchen, the gentle sway of the ocean, the simmer and pop of fat on a pan, the soft bubbling of boiling water — and you.

You, perched on the counter with your legs hanging off the side, hair piled up and pinned with a chopstick, a book in your hands or on your lap, the early afternoon sun spilling in to caress your skin like so many loving fingers. Sometimes, he’ll glance over while chopping onions or mincing garlic to catch a glimpse of you, and he’d find himself stilling, his fingers slowing, his breath suspended in his chest, caught like an insect in amber: held weightless and perfect.

“You’re staring,” you say, flipping a page without looking up, a smile twitching at your lips.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve found that admiring beautiful things helps me in my creative process,” he says, his grin going lopsided as he lowers his eyes to the ingredients on the cutting board — tiny, plump cherry tomatoes ripe to bursting. He resumes slicing each in half with swift, decisive cuts and relishes in the sound of your laughter.

“Careful with that mouth of yours — someone might accidentally fall in love with you,” you flip another page.

Sanji slides the cut tomatoes into a bowl and wipes a hand on the towel slung over his shoulder.

“Accidentally? C’mon, you gotta gimme some more credit. But if anyone’s fallin’ in love, it’s gonna be with you.”

Another page. Sanji plucks a few zucchini from a large bag and starts to julienne them into thin strips.

“What are you making?” you ask, finally setting the book down in favor of peering at all the ingredients he’s got laid out. He quirks an eyebrow, glancing up.

“What, finished with that book already?”

“Nope — just found something more interesting to look at, that’s all.”

Sanji blushes.

Let it never be said that Vinsmoke Sanji can’t take as good as he gives but by all the gods and monsters and sea kings — you’re a damn good flirt. Almost as good as he is, he used to think. Now, as he covers up his rapidly darkening cheeks with a chuckle, turning away to grab a potato for skinning, he wonders if you might just be better.

“You never answered my question, y’know.”

He looks up again, his tongue feeling strangely swollen and uncoordinated in his mouth. You’re grinning at him, your legs still swinging, but in the few seconds he’d looked away, you’ve inched closer, your outer thigh now almost pressing against the edge of his cutting board.

The first time he’d found you perched up on his long work table with a book in your lap, he’d blinked, crossed his arms, and debated on asking what on earth you thought you were doing. Chefs generally do not take kindly to their prep spaces being treated like free real estate for sitting, but he’d never been able to say no to a beautiful woman, now has he? And least of all you.

“Thought you could use the company,” was your answer to his then-unasked question. He’d laughed, nodded, and gotten on with his breakfast prep. But that was months ago and since then, it’s become something of a habit; a ritual, almost.

“What question was that? I was —” he asks, clearing his throat, his fingers almost slipping on the freshly peeled potato, “distracted by your —”

“What are you making?”

“Oh —” Sanji returns his gaze to the cutting board, now acutely aware of the smell of your skin, creamy and warm. He swallows, trying to focus on slicing the potato.

“Just a cherry tomato and zucchini noodle pasta — not often that we get such fresh produce. But Luffy’d asked if I can make chips from scratch the other day so that’s what this bad boy’s for,” he says, holding up half the potato.

“You sure one potato’s gonna be enough?” you shift your leg to cross one above the other, and Sanji has to swallow passed the thickness building up in the back of his throat at the sight of your soft, smooth thighs.

“Good point,” he says, laughing as he bends down to grab a few more.

You fall into a companionable silence, the quiet only punctuated by the tack-tack-tack of his knife on the cutting board and the occasionally shunk-thump of ingredients being swept into a metal prep bowl.

“You’re staring,” he says. And this time, it’s Sanji who grins, keeping his eyes fixed on the remainder of the herb mix he’s chopping up.

“Yeah, I know. I’m making a habit of admiring beautiful things. I’ve heard that it’s good for me.”

Heat bursts in Sanji’s chest as if he’d swallowed a shot of whiskey or gin or perhaps something even more potent. His head spins, but he steadies himself before letting out a soft, low whistle. He fights the urge to look up just to check if you’re as affected as he is.

“Keep talkin’ like that and falling in love with you’s not gonna be an accident.”

When he finally looks up to shoot you a flirty smile, he finds himself faltering as he meets your eyes.

“Who said I wanted it to be an accident?”

The knife in Sanji’s hand slips and he swears as it knicks the skin of his forefinger.

“Ah, shit —”

“Oops.” You have the decency to look sheepish as he shoots you a mildly reproachful look. But you shift your legs and tug open a drawer that had been tucked beneath where your knee had been, pulling out a small bandage.

“Come here,” you offer, reaching out as he stares at you for a second before moving forward to give you his hand. You gently wipe away the blood before pressing the bandage to the small cut, running a thumb over the edges to make sure it’s sealed.

The air hangs between you like dust motes trapped in sunlight, like first snow caught in the silvery breaths of awestruck children.

“There,” you say, the word no more than a whisper. Your hands linger over his, his skin burning where you’d touched him. Shivers skitter down the length of his spine as he gulps in a breath of air that tastes faintly of fairytale endings and happily-ever-afters.

“Thanks.”

He doesn't pull away. Neither do you.

Like this, he can count every single lash that frames your doe-wide eyes. Like this, he can feel the static thrum of electricity threatening to jump from his body to yours, and all at once, he understands why lightning always tries to reach for the closest thing to its storm-ridden skies.

Perhaps it, too, yearns for closeness — for that infinitesimal moment of connection.

He wants to reach for you.

Your lips hover a kiss’s-breadth away.

An alarm goes off.

“Oh fuck —”

He jerks away from you, the world clanging rudely back into focus as he reaches for the lid of a large pot, his heart hammering something fierce inside his ribcage. He nearly burns himself on the thick fog of steam rising from inside the pot to reveal six flat-face crabs, freshly caught that morning.

Behind him, he hears the distinct sounds of you slipping from the long work table.

“Leaving already?” he asks as he turns back around with a stab at his usual light-hearted cheek.

You lick your lips, grinning, “I feel like I’ve caused enough damage for one dinner service. If I keep hanging around, you might lose a finger next.”

“Small price to pay for the company of a beautiful woman,” but there’s a gravel and grit to his voice that wasn’t there before, and he looks away first when this time your eyes catch. He tries to busy himself with prepping the pan sauce for the crabs.

“I’ll let Nami know that the next time she wants to peek in on you cooking.”

“Hey —”

You pause at the sound of his voice just as you reach the door. You turn.

Sanji’s expression flickers between caution and anticipation as he opens his mouth, his eyes somehow sharper and darker than they usually are.

“We’re not done talking about this.”

You cock your head, “About what?”

But there’s a smile teasing at the corner of your lips and Sanji lets out a good-humored sigh.

“Alright, go. Or else I might lose more than a finger.”

Like a heart, he thinks as you close the door behind you with a soft click.

Dinner is an appetizer of cold zucchini pasta followed by a warm, tangy tomato veloute. Then come the crabs — freshly steamed over a bed of risotto and served with a lemon and rosemary pan sauce so delicious it has even Zoro sighing with satisfaction.

“Wow, special occasion?” Nami asks, looking up as Sanji comes around with a tray full of cocktails, complete with blood orange slices garnishing the lip of each glass.

“Ain’t every day a special one with this crew?” he asks, winking at Nami as she takes her drink.

Everyone laughs, but as he sets down your drink, you notice a tiny note tucked beneath the base of your glass.

You take a sip of your drink, glancing down at the note. It has three simple words written in Sanji’s unmistakable, slanted handwriting:

Kitchen — after dinner.

You tuck the note away in your pocket with a secret grin, taking another long sip of the cold, refreshing drink.

The final course is a heaping pile of home-made potato chips with garlic and cheese dip, and Luffy wastes no time in shoveling half the batch into his mouth, crunching loudly over a series of vague, animalistic hums and grunts that all seem to denote happiness.

You finish your drink and slip away under the guise of going for another.

When you get to the kitchen, it's to find Sanji already cleaning up.

“Need a hand?” you ask, setting your empty glass on the counter before lightly hoisting yourself up onto it.

Sanji shakes his head, turning off the water and wiping down his hands. He pours you another drink from a large pitcher before setting it down and pursing his lips.

“This afternoon —”

“I meant what I said —” you say, cutting him off as you look away, eyes fixed on your knees as you swing your feet away from the table’s edge, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sanji clears his throat, reaching into his pocket to grab a cigarette and a lighter, if only to keep his hands busy. The thing in his chest that he’d been so convinced was his heart for most of his life now feels very much like a ticking time bomb. Or perhaps a hand grenade, with the pin held precariously between your teeth.

One word from you and —

“So? What about you?” you ask.

Sanji sucks in a long breath of smoke, holding it in his lungs before letting it out. The familiar sting grounds him as he looks at you and wonders if you know all the things he’d do for you. All the things he’s already done.

“Me?” he asks.

“Yeah — did you mean it?” And for the first time since he’s known you, you sound uncertain, “All… all those things you said? All the things you’ve been saying?”

He takes a few steps forward, finally allowing himself to breach the delicate circle of your personal space, his free hand coming to rest on the counter next to your thigh, his palm pressing flat to keep himself from going too far, too fast.

“Three guesses,” he says, letting his eyes flicker down to your lips and linger there, “You guess right… and there might be a prize involved, hm?”

A small, knowing grin spreads across your lips even as you quirk an eyebrow.

“Three guesses to a yes or no question? C’mon, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re losing your touch.”

Sanji leans in and you can almost taste the smoke on your tongue.

“But you do know better, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You suck in a breath, reaching up to tug the cigarette from his lips.

“Yes.”

You catch a flash of his smile a second before his lips find yours. He tastes of salt and tobacco and lemon-rosemary sauce.

“That’s one,” he says as the pair of you break apart. The cigarette lies forgotten on the counter.

Somehow, his hands have found their way to the bend of your waist, settling there as naturally as the tide might settle against its favorite stretch of forgotten beach.

You smile as you reach up to tug him closer, “Yes.”

Another kiss.

Sanji notes with a satisfied grin that your cheeks are just as flushed as his feels when he pulls away this time. He nods, trailing long fingers up your side, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek, the other pressing at the small of your back.

“That’s two.”

You nudge his nose with yours and he feels his hand-grenade heart leap into his throat.

“And…” you hum, letting your head lilt to one side as you ghost your lips over his, “Hm, lemme think about this one…”

Sanji rolls his eyes, tugging you forward by the back of your neck, crushing your mouth to his. It’s more insistent this time — the kiss, the breath, his fingers, your hands — more desperate and fumbling, fueled by the ever-growing heat bubbling at the base of his spine.

“Yes —” you hiss, panting as the pair of you pull apart, your pupils blown wide and dark in the dim kitchen light.

“And that’s all three,” he says, his smile going wide with warmth, “See? You’ve got it. Knew you’d get there.”

“Did you ever doubt?”

Sanji shrugs, taking half a step back to admire the sight of you, with kiss-swollen lips and heat-flushed skin. Perfect might not be strong enough a word.

“There was a moment here or there,” he says, to which you respond with a light shove to his shoulder as you hop off the table.

“Oh, I meant to ask you — what’s for dessert?”

Sanji laughs, “What? Did my garlic-cheddar chips not satisfy?”

“Really? Chips for dessert? And here I was hoping for something sweet.”

You make to leave the kitchen but Sanji reaches forward, pulling you back all too easily, spinning you around and pinning you against the door. His eyes are soft with mirth but as he leans down, you can’t help but shiver at the promise of something more lingering beneath the smoke of his breath.

“Well then, sweetheart, I think I’ve got my dessert picked out already now, don’t I?”

recs r technically closed, but... if you have an opla!sanji one... send it here.

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rafeandonlyrafe · 5 months

Text

sparkling juice

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, virgin!reader, dubcon, drugging/tricking reader into drinking, established relationship, innocent/shy!reader (at least at first wink wink), kinda dark!rafe but really he just wants to bang reader reaaaaal bad

“this is so sweet, rafey.” you coo, your hand held firmly in his.

“anything for you baby.” rafe pulls you along the path, further out into the meadow until you get to a shaded area under a tall tree.

“here is perfect.” rafe says, setting the picnic basket down and draping the large blanket he brought with him.

“thank you.” you tell rafe, pulling him in for a sweet kiss before sitting down.

“i brought all your favorites.” rafe says, taking a spot next to you and opening up the picnic basket.

you let out a little squeak in excitement and seeing all your favorite foods before your brows scrunch together as you point at a bottle. “what's that?”

“that's um… sparkling juice. that's all, baby.” of course, rafe knows that's not all it is, but you don't need to know that yet.

rafe pulls out some food for you to snack on, not hungry himself, happy to watch you nibble on crackers and bite into juicy strawberries.

“wanna try some juice with me baby?”

“mhm, of course rafey.” you watch his large hands as he fills two plastic cups, handing one to you. “drink slow.”

you nod in response before taking a sip, pulling away and sputtering. “ew!”

“oh, baby.” rafe pouts. “do you not like it? im so sorry i thought you would.”

“let me… let me try to drink it again. i think im just not used to the carbonation.” you take another sip, able to control your reaction better. “it's not bad!” rafe can tell you're lying, but he lets out a fake sigh of relief and smiles at you.

“so glad, baby. we can keep drinking while we talk, yeah? tell me about your day.”

rafe knows the easiest way to get you distracted is to have you talk, and so as you describe your day, which leads into your plans for next week, which leads into how much you love rafe, you keep taking sips as rafe refills just your cup.

“i… my head feels kinda fuzzy.” you frown, setting the drink down, realizing your fingers are also slightly numb.

“uh oh.” rafe pouts, drawing his thumb over your cheek. “maybe it's the heat. why don't you lay down?”

“yeah.” you nod, laying back onto the blanket, surprised how plush it is from the soft long grass underneath it. “im-” you let out a sudden giggle. “im like really in love with you, rafey.”

“im really in love with you too, kiddo.” rafe adjusts himself to lay next to you, propped up on his side to keep an eye on your reaction as the alcohol you didn't know you were drinking slowly takes effect. “that's why i planned out this whole picnic for you. and brought you special juice.”

“was there-” you hiccup, words slurring slightly. “anything special in the special juice?”

“hm.” rafe sits up, picking up the now half empty bottle. his eyes widen in fake shock as he reads the label. “oh no baby! i must have grabbed the wrong bottle! i meant to get us sparkling juice but i got us sparkling wine!”

“im… im drunk?” you put together what rafes words mean, mind working slowly.

“im so sorry.” rafe moves to hover over you, cupping your cheek. “will you forgive me?”

“course.” you nod quickly. “was an accident.”

“you're so sweet baby.” rafe brings his lips down on top of yours, kissing you wildly, mouths and tongues a passionate mess.

“should we go get some water to help… get rid of this feeling?” you ask rafe as he shifts to kissing your jaw.

“that's so smart, baby, but i can't drive us home drunk, and you don't have your license.”

you knew how to drive well enough, but in your 20 years of life, never felt the need to actually get your license. your parents drove you around as a kid until you started dating rafe a year ago, and then he drove you around everywhere.

“oh, right.” you nod, letting out a small gasp as rafes kisses move lower, exploring your neck. this is where you usually stop him, pull his head back up to kiss your lips and remind him you want to wait. not necessarily until marriage, but a bit longer, until the time is right.

“we should do something to pass the time, baby. until the alcohol is out of our system.”

“doesn't eating help?” you try to remember what you heard your friends talk about, since you're not a drinker yourself. “we could share the rest of the crackers.”

“i was thinking… we could finally make love.” rafe suggests, pulling back to look in your eyes, watching the way your brain is fighting against the alcohol in your system.

“well, you did take me on this nice picnic…”

“mhm.”

“and we have been dating for over a year now.”

“yes.”

“so… i suppose we could.” you shove down any doubting voices in your head, letting the looseness of your inhibitions guide your actions as you lean forward to kiss rafe again.

“thank you baby.” rafe repeats his words between kisses, his weight shifting to his elbow as his other hand holds your waist, before moving up until it's cupping your breast.

“oh!” you gasp, surprised by how good it feels. rafe smiles, tugging at your dress until the material is below your bra, pushing your breasts up.

“what if someone sees?!” you hiss out. it's not likely someone would come by, but rafe doesn't want to ruin his chance to finally have you.

“okay.” he pulls your dress back up, settling for touching you over the material as he distracts you with soft kisses once again. “ill just push your dress up. that way if anyone comes by you can easily cover yourself up.”

“mhm.” you nod, eyes sliding shut, head fuzzy from the alcohol and now from the pleasure building in your system.

rafe reaches down to pull his cock out of his pants, leaving himself mostly covered as well. he begins to slowly stroke himself, already halfway hard just from the excitement.

“oh!” rafe hadn't even realize your eyes had opened up until your outburst.

“it's okay, baby.” rafe says. he's well aware this is your first time seeing his cock as he waits for you to form a reaction.

“i… i want to feel.” you reach down, cautious hand, still numb at the fingertips as you stroke over rafes length, eyes widening when you realize how hard it truly feels..

“can you… can you not look?” you ask shyly, hand still slowly moving as you speak. “at me.”

“baby, you know i find you beautiful. all of you… but if that's what you want, okay.”

“just… look away for a minute.” you wait for rafes gaze to turn to the meadow, watching the flowers sway in the breeze as he hears you shuffling around on the blanket to take your underwear off.

“okay.” you say.

rafe looks back to you, smile growing as he realizes you're laid back down once again, dress pushed up to your thighs, just enough to hide your privates.

“ill be nice and slow, okay? and you tell me if anything hurts.” rafe moves over you, waiting for you to nod before reaching down with one hand to grab his cock. he keeps your skirt as far down as he can while tucking his dick between your thighs. he moves until he bumps skin, letting out a breath when he realizes you are wet.

he rubs his cock through your folds, watching the way your face twists in pleasure, brows pulling together and mouth dropping open.

you let out a moan when rafe hits what he assumes is your clit. he focuses the head of his cock on it for a moment before sinking lower to your entrance.

rafe manages to keep his word, pushing in slowly. he may have been buttering you up for an entire year just to get in your pants, but now he wants more than just once, you're well and truly his, and he plans on exploring with you until you're transformed from innocent girlfriend into personal slut.

“oh! oh, rafe!” your hands move to grip his shoulders. “that… that feels really good!”

“doesn't hurt at all?” rafe can tell he's stretching you somewhat, but clearly by your rapid shaking of your head no, you're not feeling any pain.

“gonna f-make love to you now then.” he swings his hips back before pushing forward, and soon your moans are filling the meadow, being carried away by the wind as he thrusts into you.

“so, so good, rafey.” you cry out, back arching off the picnic blanket. rafe smiles. your first time, and you're already behaving like this. he's going to turn you into a whore sooner than he thought.

“fu-fudge!” you shout out, making rafe chuckle softly as you use your curse word substitute just like you prefer doing.

“you feel so good round me, baby.” rafe says, bending down to kiss your neck. “love the way you're squeezing me.”

“harder.” you whine out. rafes eyebrows raise, but he doesn't question your demand, pushing his hips faster, slamming into you more. your dress pushed up from all the motion to reveal rafes cock burying itself inside your pussy.

he lets out a moan as you grip onto the blanket, not caring about him being able to see you as you feel a high building inside of you.

“i think im close.” you say.

“cum for me baby. ill cum with you.” rafe says, bringing a hand down to your clit, your moans doubling as he rubs over it with his thumb.

your high hits you suddenly. it takes a perfect thrust from rafe a long with his thumb flicking over your clit and your wall breaks with a scream, hips rising off the checkered fabric as you cum, pussy clenching around rafe as he spills inside of you with a moan of his own.

you both collapse in a heap, faces flushed and chests rising and falling rapidly.

rafe pulls out of you carefully before flopping onto his back.

“that was really good, rafey.” you cuddle into his side, resting your head on his chest.

“thank you for trusting me enough to do that with me, baby.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“of course.” your eyes are on rafes cock, still halfway hard despite just cumming. you reach down, ghosting your fingers along his length before swirling your fingertip over the head then against his slit as rafes hips twitch from the overstimulation.

“do you think we can do that again? and then maybe when we get home? after you're good to drive, of course.” you look up at rafe with what he thought were big, innocent eyes, but he's quickly realizing you've got a different side just below the surface.

-- six months later --

“ugh, rafe!” you groan as he presses buttons on the controller, eyes firmly on the screen.

“promise baby, will be done in five minutes.” he says, barely glancing to you.

you're tired of being ignored as you pull off the only clothing you are wearing, a big t-shirt of rafes to cover yourself. rafe glances over, realizing you're now completely nude as his fingers freeze.

“i want to fuck. if you're not gonna help me, im gonna go help myself.” you shrug.

rafe tosses the controller onto the floor, a proud smile on his face. you've become just who he's always wanted you to be. “of course im gonna help you baby, come get on this dick.”

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steddielations · 6 months

Text

nsfw, actor eddie, hair and makeup artist steve, sub top

The downside of Eddie having a bunch of tattoos is that he has to sit in the makeup trailer longer than anyone else getting them covered, along with his character’s makeup.

The plus side is he gets more time with Steve.

They have this game. It started on Eddie’s first day. He was all wired up with nerves because it’s his first time in a lead role on a big production like this.

Every nightmare scenario of how he could screw up was running through his mind. He couldn’t sit still enough for Steve to give him the wavy hair and facial scars that his character has.

Eddie kept apologizing and Steve was great about it. He asked Eddie about the heart on his arm with “Wayne” across the ribbon and distracted Eddie from over-practicing his lines, busy telling Steve all about his uncle who raised him and where they’re from.

Eddie killed it on set that day, and pretty much every day since then. He loves acting, he loves fully immersing himself in the story he’s telling. This role is the biggest of his career so far, but it’s not even about that, he loves the character he’s playing, he meshes well with the director and has chemistry with his co-stars.

But Steve is his favorite part of this whole deal.

Eddie ran out of tattoos for their little game of telling Steve the story behind a different one every day. They never ran out of things to talk about though.

But Steve takes his job seriously and he’s good at it. He explained once why he likes doing this. It’s an art, getting the right look for the right character, or the right person, connecting with and taking care of whoever’s in his chair.

He explained it all while he was running his fingers through Eddie’s hair in those perfectly practiced strokes. Steve’s very good at his job, that’s why it feels so nice when he touches Eddie, even if it’s just work, because Steve cares about this. That’s why it’s easy for Eddie to be lulled into bliss when Steve’s fingers are so gentle on his scalp.

And, okay Eddie’s not made of stone, and he has eyes so he has a thing for Steve. A crush, but there’s a line there. This is work. They’re co-workers, despite how many pretty smiles and lingering looks are exchanged. Eddie won’t cross that line.

Until he does.

It’s an accident. He never would have done it on purpose.

Steve’s fingers are just so talented. Eddie’s eyes are closed, he was having another fit of nerves earlier so Steve took extra time with his hair. It put Eddie in a space so relaxed that he feels like he’s floating when Steve’s hand twists in his hair with the perfect amount of tension. It feels so intentional. The moan just slips out.

Eddie apologizes like crazy afterward, he feels terrible. Steve is a picture of professionalism, he’s charming and fun but he runs the makeup trailer like it's the navy and he takes his shit seriously and Eddie crossed a line.

But Steve just shushes him, guides him to sit back in the chair and says it’s alright.

Eddie blinks in disbelief but Steve just looks at him.

It’s a look.

A look that Eddie can’t stop thinking about for the rest of production.

It’s a look he sees again on his last day on set.

Eddie already shook everyone’s hands and said his goodbyes. He's just stopping by his trailer one last time to make sure the assistants got all his stuff cleared out.

When he opens the door, his stomach flips, finding Steve waiting inside for him.

“You wrapped filming today,” Steve says in place of a greeting. But his smile and the way his arm is languidly stretched over the back of the couch is inviting.

Something tells Eddie to lock the door before he goes over to sit next to Steve.

His gaze is even more intense up close. Eddie feels Steve’s eyes on him everywhere, like he’s just eating Eddie up.

“Yeah, I did,” Eddie says, a tad nervous.

He doesn't want to make a move he can’t take back in case he’s wrong about why Steve’s in his trailer looking at him like that. He doesn’t want to be one of those douchebag movie stars that assumes everyone wants him and he has a free pass to hit on the crew. He’s sure Steve’s had enough of that bullshit.

“We don’t work together anymore,” Steve simply states.

“I know, it sucks,” Eddie laughs a bit sad because he really is, “Sorry if it’s weird to say, but I’m gonna miss you.”

Steve’s eyes shift between Eddie’s and then down to his lips, making his heart stutter in his chest.

“No it’s a good thing,” Steve says and Eddie’s brows knit in confusion. “It means I can do this finally.”

Eddie thinks he’s watching his daydreams play out the way Steve starts leaning in.

It’s only real when Steve’s lips press softly to his.

Just once, so light, long enough for Eddie to catch on that it’s happening, then Steve pulls back before Eddie can reciprocate.

Steve chuckles faintly at the dramatic frown Eddie’s pulling.

Then Steve’s hand cups Eddie’s cheek, his thumb stroking Eddie’s face as he tells him, “We can stop there and keep it professional and say our goodbyes. Or I can climb on your lap and give you something to remember me by.”

Eddie gulps. Steve’s offer and his silky voice and his perfect touch that Eddie’s already so addicted to is such a heady mix, making it hard to form words. “Yes, climb me— I mean, option B.”

“Yeah, honey, you want that?” God, Eddie always blushed hot when Steve called him that casually in the makeup trailer, now he’s melting hearing Steve say it like this. “Well, go on and take your pants off for me.”

It happens in a syrupy warm blur. Eddie sheds his jeans and underwear like he’s told and he’s rewarded with a gorgeously naked Steve Harrington in his lap. He’s allowed to touch, only after Steve has threaded his fingers through Eddie’s hair more reverently than any time before, like something precious in his hands, and kisses Eddie deep and hard.

Then Eddie gets to nuzzle the chest hair that’s been driving him crazy peeking out of Steve’s shirt every time he leaned over. Eddie gets to touch Steve’s soft strong thighs, feeling the smatter of hair leading up to his ass that’s been driving Eddie even more insane trying not to stare at. Then he slips his fingers in and moans into Steve’s mouth when he feels the hard bulb of a plug nestled inside Steve.

Steve pulls back from the kiss, smiling and smearing his thumb over the spit on Eddie’s lips. “Yeah, I’m so ready for you, Eddie, baby, you have no idea.”

Eddie’s practically drooling watching Steve take out the plug and get a bottle of lube from between the cushions and a condom, oiling up his hand. When his fist wraps around Eddie’s cock, Eddie helplessly bucks into it, but Steve’s solid thighs pin him down. That makes his mind lust-foggy and his eyes flutter up at Steve, who bites his lip watching Eddie as he lines up to his hole.

“Mm... you know how bad I wanted you?” Steve sounds relieved as he sinks down on Eddie’s cock. “You know how bad I wanted to climb on your lap when you were sitting in my chair. You know how starry-eyed you get when you’re drifting? Just from me touching your hair, so fucking cute.”

Eddie’s just a mess of moans, Steve is so hot and tight around him. It’s too much with all the sweet praise to really comprehend that Steve knew all those times he was getting spacy.

“It’s so easy to put you down.” Steve’s breath comes harder, not letting Eddie move as he starts to roll his hips. “Such an actor, high strung all the time but that’s okay. It’s your passion. That’s sexy. Been dying to hold you down and ride you until you can’t think about anything but me, though.”

Eddie gasps out a groan when Steve tugs sharply on his hair, being right about everything that Eddie’s into so far. It’s no secret that Eddie’s intense, just a different kind of intensity in the bedroom than with his craft.

Steve seems to get it, seems to know that Eddie needs everything hard and relentless with the way he’s bouncing on Eddie’s dick. He can feel the strength in Steve’s hips, dying to feel them fucking into him too, mouth watering at the sight of his thick cock jumping with all the movement.

“You’d let me tie you down and use you, hm?” Steve asks, drawing Eddie by the hair into a biting kiss that just barely grazes the surface of what Eddie would let Steve do to him. “I know. I’d fuck you up so good if we had time, baby.”

“Steve, holy shit,” Eddie practically sobs, fingers digging into Steve’s ass.

“You close, honey?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

Steve suddenly cups his face, just a tad rough and Eddie thought— hoped for one hot moment— that Steve was going to slap him. Just the thought is enough to make him do what he's supposed to, “Can I?”

“Mh-hm just keep looking at me,” Steve strokes Eddie’s face as he circles his hips and takes Eddie deep. “Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come inside me.”

Eddie does as he’s told, his gaze falling half-shut as he lets go, spilling into the condom like he’s pumping Steve full.

It’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him, followed by the second hottest thing when Steve kisses his slack mouth as his warm heavy spurts of come land on Eddie’s belly.

While Eddie’s coming down, he lets Steve shift him onto the couch. He gets some tissues and then pulls Eddie to lie on his chest because of course he would, he’s Steve.

“Was that enough to remember me by when you get all big and famous?” Steve asks after a while, trailing his knuckles down Eddie’s bare arm.

Eddie looks up, seeing the first glimpse of hesitance in all of Steve’s practiced smoothness.

So Eddie leans in and assures him between pecks on his lips that slowly turn to smiles pressing together. “Nope, think we gotta do it again. And again. And again.”

#here's some sub top eddie from yours truly #also i've talked about actor eddie before but we need to talk about him more plssplss #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie smut #subeddieweek #sub eddie week #famous eddie munson #hairdresser steve harrington

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rafesslxt · 6 months

Text

neglected | mattheo riddle

summary: Theodore completly ignores you and doesnt take it serious that you miss him while he flirts with another girl at a party.. so his best friend has to help you filling up that hole inside your … chest.

warning: cheating? but is it if he does it first?, mattheo eating out the reader, fingering, nipple play, teasing, dirty talk, getting caught, he‘s a munch don‘t fight with me over this -

note: i do not support cheating, this is just for the story

— monday —

I don‘t know how many times I already begged but from time to time.. i felt more and more neglected.

"Theo, please just this one weekend! You had been busy with your friends and studying the last 3 weeks!" Yeah, 3 weeks since my boyfriend went on a date with me, had some quality time or touched me.

"Y/n I told you I don‘t have time. I already promised the boys I‘d come to the party. We‘ll see us there, I have to go study now, with Lydia." Before I could even say a word he left his dorm. I hear a chuckle coming from the other side of the room, making me turn my head in it’s direction.

"Told you you deserve better baby." Mattheo, Theodore‘s best friend said, sitting on his bed. They share a dorm and every now and then he would see Theo and me arguing.

I huff and leave the room, a aching feeling in my body.

— the next day —

"Theo please, I need you. You didn‘t touch me once the last few weeks." I whine into his ear, sitting next to him. He just groans, but not the way I want him to and gets up with his book in his hands. "Don‘t you see that you‘re distracting me?" Irritated he leaves the room, probably walking off to the library again.

Ugh.. i let myself fall back down onto the mattress and cross my arms over my face. Is it my fault? Did my body change somehow? Why the hell won‘t he touch me? But before I could continue my thoughts, I hear the door again, my head shooting up, hoping it is Theo who changed his mind but no, it‘s Mattheo. I groan frustrated and let my head fall back.

"Wow nice to see you too baby, but I think you‘re laying on the wrong bed." he says, teasing me.

"Sometimes I think like that too." I mumble into my arms and more to myself.

"What was that?" he asks. "Nothing."

— two days later —

Patiently I wait on Theo‘s bed, dressed all up.. or down, in his favorite lingerie set and a pair of black knee socks. When we got together half a year ago he told me he loved them on me, made my legs look even longer.

As the door opens my heart starts beating faster and I look up, shrieking and pulling the blanket over my body as I see who it is. "Damn mami is that for me?" Mattheo asks as he stand in front of Theo‘s bed with a smirk on his face, his mouth wide open.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked furious, not wanting him to see me like that. What If Theo comes in and would see us, what would he think?

"Last time I checked this is my room, sweetcheeks." "But you‘re supposed to have quidditch practice!" I whine and look for my clothes.

He chuckles and steps a bit closer as I stand up from the bed. "Could you turn around? I wanna get dressed." "No." "You are such a pain in the ass!" I roll my eyes at him and take my wand, mumbling "Colloportus“. and holding it towards the door so no one can come inside.

I let go of the blanket, thinking fuck it, and grab my skirt, pulling it over my legs and then my hips. "Did your cute little boyfriend leave you unsatisfied again?" he grins and takes a step closer. "You know.. I could help you with that." he says in a suggestive tone. "He’s your best friend Mattheo, stop this shit." "I can’t princess. Hurts me to see that pretty little body of yours, knowing how desperate it must be after all these weeks." he whispers the last part as he lets his fingers slowly brush over my arm, sending shivers down my spine. "See? It’s so hot for just a little attention." "No, it is cold, thats why." I say, swallowing down the clump in my throat as i nod towards the opened window.

Just as I wanted to reach down for my top, I see Mattheo getting down on his knees in front of me. He looks up and licks his lips. Damn.. something about a men on his knees for me made me feel slme type of way.

"Please let me touch your legs, please. Need to know how soft these pretty thighs feel." I could feel his warm breath against my skin, again, sending shivers down my… spine. wet pussy

"Mattheo get the fuck up I swear to god!" i hiss at him. Yes I closed the door with a spell but it wasn‘t really hard for everyone above first years to open it with a spell.

"Please, I swear If you let me just touch it I‘m gonna leave you alone for the rest of the week!" he pleads, looking at my face and then my legs. I sigh as I think about letting him. Damn was I really thinking about it? Am I really going to let my boyfriends best friend touch my thighs?

But I mean.. nothing’s wrong If I don‘t feel anything for it, right? Plus he would just leave me alone for a bit. "Fine." I press out.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel his big warm hands on my thighs. "Shit.." he mumbles as he lets them wander up and down my legs. He slighty squeezes them, making me sigh in relief.

I feel his curls against my skin before I can look down and see him kissing my flesh, grabbing it with a bit more strengh now. I had to bite my bottom lip as he starts massaging them. Completly lost in thoughts, I realize too late what he was doing.

Suddenly he stands up and kisses my cheek "Thank you, doll.", before leaving the dorm and leaving me breathless in the middle of the room. As I slowly come back from the dizzy feeling inside my head I again, stretch over to get my top but gasp with shaky breathing as I see what Mattheo left on my skin.

A hickey. And a bite mark. I didn‘t even notice him biting my leg. Shit.

— Saturday —

To say i was pissed, while sitting on a chair in some corner of the common room, was a big understatement. Theodore and I arrived at the party he talked about a few days ago.. 2hours ago. I saw him drinking with his friends and playing truth or dare in a little group, always walking away from me as soon as I approached him. So I decided to stop chasing him.

"What are you doing here all alone sweetcheeks?" I look to my right and see Mattheo. Of course it was him. "Leave me alone." I say, rolling my eyes and looking back to my boyfriend, sitting beside this girl named Lydia. She was a year under us I think.

Mattheo followed my gaze and shakes his head. "Well , the deal was I would leave you alone till end of the week. The week is over." I don‘t even answer him, not in the mood to argue.

"Yeah thanks for the hickey and the mark between." i say sarcastically. "Yeah it‘s not like your boyfriend would see, right?"

I roll my eyes again and look back at Theodore, to see him standing up. What was he going to do? Suddenly I see him taking Lydia‘s hand, pulling her up with him and kissing her. In shock I opened my mouth, but instead of crying like i normally would, my face got red in anger.

I tried everything and here he stands sucking of the face of that stupid thot. In the middle of the common room? With the girl he "studys" all the time? I bet that’s not the first time they kiss. Mattheo seems to see it too and looks at me more serious now. "Hey.. are you okay? I mean he‘s not worth it If you - " but before he can continue I grab him at the collor of his shirt and drag him with me to his dorm.

— 30 minutes later —

"Oh fuck yes, Mattheo!" I moan into the air, pushing his head against me while his lips suck on my clit, his fingers pumping inside me. "Shit who would have known that you go this feral for my tounge huh?" he smiles and mumbles against my skin.

"Stop talking and continue!" I whine and push his head back. I hear him chuckle before he laps at my throbbing clit again. God If I would have known how good this feels I would have had ended things with Theo way sooner.

His free hand slides across my body up to my left boob where he started to tease my nipple. I gasp and push my hips up, arching my back. My body was so sensitive I wanted to cry out of pleasure everytime he touched me somewhere.

It didn‘t took me long before my body starts trembling and shaking, Mattheo licking everything up as I come on his tounge.

"I could get drunk on your pussy." he groans before kissing me, making me taste myself on his lips.

"I hope you‘re ready cause that pussy screams for me." he whispers against my lips before going down on me again.

A few minutes in I hear someone yell. "WHAT THE FUCK?"

My head shot up and I looked to the door where Theo stood, looking ag us with an angry face.

I saw Mattheo looking at him over his shoulder, smiling at him with glistening lips. "Hey men, hope you don‘t mind? We got the impression you were busy.. never mind – bro how could you not eat that pussy like.. all day?"

"I‘m gonna kill you, Riddle!"

shorter than usual but I liked it 🌼

thanks for reading and supporting 🫶🏻

xoxo sarah <3

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 7 months

Text

Sweet Like Wine

Ship: Astarion x female!human!reader/Tav

Summary: Your monthly bleed is over—just in time for you and Astarion to find yourselves with a bit of alone time. You might not be able to feed your vampire as easily, but there's another hunger for the two of you to satiate.

Word Count: 9,154 words of filth

Warnings: sexual content (18+), soft Astarion, vulnerable Astarion, slightly insecure Astarion, mention of past sexual trauma, pet names, Astarion still doesn't realize he's loved for more than his body,

18+ Warnings: vaginal sex, fingering, oral (f receiving, m receiving), touching over clothes, naked grinding, bite kink, blood kink, soft sex, creampie, aftercare, use of the words pussy, dick, cunt & cock, mentions of reader's period

Burns Like Rum (part 1) found {here}

Epilogue Blood is Rare and Sweet as Cherry Wine coming soon!

Note: Thank you for all the love on the first part! I'm glad everyone loved it! Here's the second part :)

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Rain was coming. You had smelled it on the air for several days now, an altogether pleasant scent that reminded you of fast-flowing rivers in a pine forest, distinctly earthy and cold.

The first day you'd smelled it, so had Astarion, stopping every few seconds to sneeze and then complain about his heightened sense of smell being trigged by weather.

You had taken to sleeping in Astarion’s tent with him over the past few days, enjoying each other’s company while you waited for your period to end. He was enjoying getting fed nightly, and you were enjoying learning about him after he gave you the night of your life.

Well, enjoying was perhaps not the right word for your experience. You were glad he trusted you enough to tell you about the things Cazador had made him do. You were grateful he felt safe enough to be vulnerable with you. But your heart broke every time he told you a little more, his voice low and tired and broken, reciting his past like it was a crime he was ready to be locked up for. And, by gods, how your hatred for Cazador grew.

It wasn’t like you had ever liked the thought of Astarion’s vampiric master. Anyone who had killed this man (who you weren’t quite sure how you felt about but knew you cared for more than anyone else you’d ever known) was evil in your book. But Cazador... Cazador made devils look like saints in your eyes.

You packed up the last remnants of your camp the morning after Astarion had whispered to you about his year encased in stone, slight trembles in his body and growing more violent the longer he'd talked. You'd held him close that night, holding his hand and sliding your fingers through his hair to comfort him. But now you were brooding in the weak morning sun, contemplating which way you'd most like to kill Cazador.

Not that you would—that right was Astarion's, should he wish it. If the time came and he decided he couldn't do it alone, well, then you'd employ one of your many planned strategies to make that bastard suffer for everything he'd done to Astarion and his siblings.

You had decided last night to move on from the place you'd been camped for over a week. You'd been there too long; people had begun to stumble upon your tents, and it was only a matter of time before someone realized Astarion was a vampire or that Gale had a weapon in his chest and decided to try and kill them.

Wyll had gone scouting last night before the sun had set and had reported a town in the distance—near enough to reach before sunset, but only if you got moving as soon as dawn broke. So, you got up early, woke up your grouchy companions, and started breaking down camp. You were on the road less than an hour later.

You walked beside Astarion, both of you weighed down by your packs, your hands swinging beside each other. The backs of your hands kept brushing. You were so distracted by it and the thought that maybe, just maybe, you would take his hand the next time they brushed, that you didn't notice the others watching.

A twinge in your side made you hiss and bring your other arm to it, on the place of an old scar. The pain was a familiar, soft throb—a telling sign that the storm you'd been smelling was getting closer.

"Is your wound still alright?" Shadowheart asked you, shocking you out of your mind, and gesturing to your abdomen. The gash had healed up nicely, little more than some light, pale scarring now, but the phantom pains lingered. They struck at random and had become a cause of concern amongst the entire camp.

You nodded. "It's fine. I haven't felt anything yet. It's just...old wounds acting up."

"Let me know if you need anything," she said, which was a phrase you'd heard at least three times a day since the day you'd gotten the wound. This time, though, she sounded even more worried than normal.

You supposed she had more than enough reason to be worried—this was the first time you'd done this much moving since you'd been injured. You hadn't had to travel or hunt since then, and even your nights with Astarion between your legs kept you on your back with your calves thrown over his shoulders.

Not that Shadowheart knew that, exactly, but she had extracted a promise out of him not to let you do anything that might reopen the wound, which also meant Astarion had refused to let you take him in your mouth, afraid that such a position would be too much for you.

"I'm okay," you promised her, trying to keep the exasperation out of your voice.

You must have failed at doing so, because Astarion whispered a moment later, "She's just trying to keep you safe."

You deflated a little. "I...I know. I'm just...tired of being treated like a glass doll. I'm healed. I can handle myself."

"I know, she's just worried... We're all worried," he added, and you knew that 'we' included himself, a recent development when it came to any kind of emotion.

"I'll be okay," you promised.

"You better be," he said, finally taking your hand in his. Giddiness spread through you like wildfire. Astarion smiled at you and you got the feeling he knew you'd been dying for that to happen. "You're too cute to die on me now."

You rolled your eyes. "Well, I'll try my best."

Astarion looked at you with a fondness that had recently appeared in his eyes; it was a look you loved, one that made your entire body grow warm every time you caught him looking at you like that. You leaned into his side, letting him kiss the top of your head gently. You smiled up at him, ready to thank him for the open display of intimacy.

And then something in his eyes changed, a sparkle in the crimson. A smile twitched on his lips. For a moment, it looked like he might say something—only for his gaze to slide to the others, walking just ahead of you as if they knew to give you privacy. The sparkle to fizzled out.

"What is it?" you asked quietly.

"Walk faster, friends!" Gale called back to you. "The clouds aren't promising, that storm you've been complaining about will be upon us soon!"

"Later," Astarion said to you. "I'll tell you later."

He squeezed your hand and quickened his pace to catch up with the rest of your companions.

~❊~

Mercifully, the long day of traveling wasn't made longer—or more painful—by a fight of any kind, only by the miserable weather. Halfway through the day, the rain had begun in the form of slow, fat raindrops. By now, it was coming down fast and hard, almost painful when it hit your body, even with your many layers of clothing.

Wyll's estimation had been a little generous; the sun, though you couldn't see it, had already set by the time you got close enough to see windows in the buildings of the town, almost every one with a candle glowing on the windowsill.

"Isn't that just quaint," Astarion murmured as the muddy river of a dirt road beneath your feet slowly transitioned into cobblestones covered in at least an inch of water. "Gods, I hope this place has a good tavern."

"I hope it has an open inn," you said. "Everything hurts."

"Your wound?" he asked, frowning and automatically putting a hand on your abdomen.

You shook your head. "No—that's fine. Just my muscles are killing me from all this walking, and old injuries are acting up. It's the storm, I knew it was coming."

Lae'zel frowned. "Are you capable of sensing the weather? Why haven't you used this trick before?"

Shadowheart giggled behind her hand and got control of herself only when the gith's head snapped toward her.

You blinked. "It— I'm not actually able to do that, Lae. It's just that old wounds ache before storms. Lots of people have that. It's...kind of an old wives' tale, I guess?"

"She was right, though," Gale said, squinting up at the sky. His hood fell from his head. "The storm came when she thought it would."

Astarion sidled closer to you, smirking, and curled a hand around your waist. Under his breath, he teased, "Perhaps I...kept you awake too late last night, didn't I? Feeling a little soreness between those lovely legs?"

You rolled your eyes but leaned into his touch. "Don't you start."

The group walked further down the main thoroughfare, slowly spreading across the street, each one looking up at the signs on the buildings. Almost everything was closed: a few tailors' shops, a perfumery, an outdoor food market with empty vendor stalls.

Music drifted from one of the few open storefronts. Warm golden light spilled out onto the cobblestone street through the windows. Raucous laughter joined the jaunty sound of a bard's music. Inside, you could see tables packed with patrons, all singing in various states of drunkenness—and all safe from the storm outside.

Wyll gestured forward. "There's your tavern, Astarion."

Astarion grinned, his fangs flashing in the low light. "Who's up for a drink?"

"Maybe later," you said.

Pointedly, Wyll added, "Once we find an inn and rooms for the night. I'd rather not make camp out here in this damp."

"What, the Blade of Frontier's doesn't know how to rough it through bad weather?" Astarion teased.

"Stop taunting him and let's find an inn," you said, nudging him gently. "I just...want to go to bed, really."

"Alright," Astarion said, that sparkle back in his eyes again. "A good, long night's rest it is, then."

You moved further down the street. Karlach spotted the inn a few doors down and the group filed in through the door, just as thunder clapped overhead. You dragged Astarion into the building with you just before the rain could get worse. The clerk at the desk looked a bit annoyed to see you.

"We don't have enough rooms for all of you," they said, counting the seven of you.

Karlach pulled a face. Before she could say something accidentally indelicate, you pushed to the front of the group.

"How many rooms do you have available?"

"Just three," they said after a quick glance down at the open guestbook in front of them. "And they're not all next to each other."

You glanced back at the others.

"We could take two," Gale suggested. "Split us the old-fashioned way of ladies in one and us gents in another?"

Automatically, your gaze slid to Astarion; both of you appeared to have deflated at the idea of being separated. Wyll, of course, noticed.

"We'll take three and give the third to the lovebirds," he said, teasingly nudging his elbow into Astarion's side. "I don't think I have the heart to separate them."

"I find it agreeable," Lae'zel said with a decisive nod. She turned back to the clerk. "We'll take all three."

"It'll cost you," the clerk warned.

Astarion pulled out a money purse—no doubt stolen the last time you visited a merchant. "We can pay," he promised with that charismatic grin of his that made your stomach do flips.

He moved to the desk, sneakily grabbing your ass and squeezing as he walked by, and counted out the coins for the clerk. They counted it again and stood up only when they were satisfied.

"Come with me," they said. "I'll show you to your rooms."

~❊~

After saying goodnight to the others, escaping their teasing about keeping it down in the night for the sake of your poor neighbors, Astarion held open the door to your room to you. You got inside and glanced around; as far as rooms went, it wasn't awful. It was sparsely furnished and a tad cold, but there was a recently lit hearth and plenty of blankets on the beds. It was on the uppermost floor and you could hear the rain pounding on the roof, a brutal sound that made you agree with Wyll's earlier sentiment about staying out of the weather.

Both of you took off your soaked cloaks and hung them on the hooks next to the door to dry off. You set your stuff down on the ground, pulled the blankets off of one of the beds, and dropped them onto the other.

"Sharing a bed, are we?" Astarion asked with a little giggle, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into the back of your neck.

"Don't act like you don't want to," you said and leaned back into his chest. "I know you, Astari."

He hummed happily into your neck. You could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed the place where your neck and shoulder met. The nickname always made him happy, often bringing a pleasant blush to his cheeks after he'd fed.

If you had reached that point yet, this would have been the perfect time to say "I love you" and turn to kiss him over your shoulder. But you hadn't said it yet, and he hadn't said it, and you knew it wasn't time yet. You didn't know much, but you knew Astarion wasn't ready for that just yet.

You relaxed into his arms even more, practically melting against him. He planted soft, dainty kisses on your neck and shoulder. "What were you gonna tell me earlier? You had this look in your eye, like you were really excited."

Astarion's grin was audible in his tone as he whispered in your ear, "Your period's gone."

You frowned. "How do you know that and I don't?"

"Your scent's changing. I smelled it this morning, a weak scent of your menstrual blood, nearly gone. We've been traveling so you haven't been able to check recently, but once we got to the town I knew it was gone."

You shook your head. "Smell alone and you already know me better than I know myself."

Astarion scoffed. "Smell alone? Darling, I know your body better than anyone after this past week." His hand drifted down and slid between your legs, cupping you gently. Instantly, warmth flooded you and pooled in your cunt. "I know your shape...your taste...your smell..." He kissed your neck, pressing down on your clit through your clothes. You whimpered lightly. "I know exactly how to make you moan for me and I know what every moan means."

With every ounce of self-restraint you possessed, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. "Let's get settled in first, Astari. I need to get out of these wet clothes and I really should wash the grime and rain off me before we do anything and—" You stopped suddenly and turned in his arms, resting your hands on his biceps. "I don't have my period anymore."

Astarion blinked at you. "Why do you sound so sad? You've been in pain for the past week! Shouldn't you be glad it's gone?"

"Well, I suppose," you said, shrugging. You toyed with his collar, playing with the fabric between your fingers. "But I...I can't..." You sighed. "You can't feed from me."

His face softened. He gently took hold of your neck, brushing his thumb over the place he usually drank from. "Of course I can still feed from you... It just...takes a bigger tole on you now. Ah." He paused. "I see what you mean now."

You nodded. "It's back to being bloodless, and our fun's done."

Astarion chuckled deeply. "Oh, is that what you're sad about? No more loving little kisses between your legs from your vampire?" He wrapped his hands around your hips, squeezing them and pulling you flush to his body. "We can have a different kind of fun, my love, and it doesn't take your period to convince me to eat you out."

You heard him dimly, but didn't process anything after— "My vampire?"

Something in his face changed. A little bit of the light in his eyes seemed to fade. After a moment, he turned his face away. His body tensed in your arms. "Well, I...I thought that.... M-maybe after..."

You cupped his cheeks and turned him back to you. You kissed him softly, wanting to chase away every ounce of the self-doubt on his face. "I like the sound of that, Astarion." You brought a hand down to clasp his. "As long as I get to be yours, too."

"Darling," he murmured against your lips, seconds before kissing you again. His tongue pressed against your lips and you opened them to let him in. You wrapped your arms around his waist and he moaned softly into your mouth. His relief at your answer slowly relaxed his muscles and made his kiss incredibly tender. You returned his quiet moan with a soft, content sigh into his mouth.

When the kiss broke a few moments later, though it felt like an eternity, you immediately laid your head against Astarion's chest, hugging him tightly. He smoothed his hand over your hair, holding you close to him. He kissed the top of your head in a way that seemed almost domestic for him.

You closed your eyes, settling against his chest. The smell of him and the feel of his body against yours and his hand in your hair was enough to nearly lull you to sleep. And yet...

"I'm in wet clothes, and I'm very tired of being wet—unless it's you making me wet," you said, only half-aware of what you had said until you felt Astarion giggle into your hair.

"You're right, we should change and clean up," he said quietly, though he seemed just as reluctant as you to let go. "Then we can have our fun...and you can get all of me, like I promised you a week ago."

You hummed. "Gods, I'm looking forward to that."

"See? It's not all bad that you're not bleeding anymore," he teased, kissing your cheek.

You finally separated. Astarion dug through his pack until he found his usual shirt and pants. He closed the window's curtains and then you stripped where you stood, peeling the wet clothes off your skin. You walked over to the washroom, aware of Astarion's appreciative gaze on you, and scrubbed the dirt off your skin. You dried yourself off and Astarion joined you. It felt strange to watch your own reflection in the mirror but not see him standing next to you, even though you knew he was next to you, staring at you as he was apt to do.

You kissed his cheek and let your hand rest on his hip as you walked back toward the beds. You bent to rummage through your pack, only for his arms to circle your waist and pull you back up against his chest.

"Oh, darling, you're not going to need clothes for what I have planned," he murmured in your ear. He gently teased the shell of your ear with his teeth. You shuddered in his arms.

"Just jumping straight into it, huh?" you teased.

"I never waste time when I could be spending it with you," he breathed, letting one hand come up to cup your breast. You stumbled backward, sighing contentedly. "You like that, don't you?"

You whimpered. "More... Please darling, I..."

He chuckled and cupped both breasts in his hands. He squeezed them lightly and rested his head on your shoulder, looking down at your cleavage. "Hells, I love these tits, darling. So soft, like all your skin. So sensitive to my touch..."

Astarion began thumbing at your nipples. They perked up at his touch. He rolled them between his fingers, kissing your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. You whimpered under his touch.

"Does that feel good, sweet girl?" he asked, squeezing your tits a little harder. He massaged them in his hands, contentedly watching from his perch on your shoulder.

You nodded, leaning your head against his. After a moment, you asked, breathless but still forming words, "Can you suck on them?"

He moved around to the front of you, grinning happily. "Of course I can, darling." He gently sat you down on the bed's edge and kneeled before you, a beautiful sight. He spread your legs to sit between them and get as close to you as possible, glancing down at your exposed cunt as he did. "Gods, I can't wait to be inside you," he muttered, just seconds before he took one of your nipples in his mouth.

Astarion's mouth was an absolutely wonderful thing. You'd figured that out the first night and for the subsequent week that he was skilled with his lips and tongue, far more skilled than his kisses let on. His mouth around your breast was heavenly as he sucked on your nipple, lightly at first and then slowly adding pressure. You'd be lucky if your tits weren't bruised come morning. His other hand held your breast, kneading your flesh, rolling your nipple in his fingers. The coolness of the skin of his fingers was a relief against your hot skin.

He moaned as he suckled on you. He flicked his tongue over your nipple and then kissed the fat of your breast. You brought your hand up to his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails, and he moaned loudly. You whimpered as his sucking grew to be almost too much. He understood your sound and switched breasts, licking and kissing the one he'd just been groping.

You stared down at the beautiful man happily sucking on your tits: his eyes closed and his long lashes fluttering every so often, his pretty lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking your breast into the heat of his mouth. You carded your fingers through his hair, delighting in the way it curled around your fingers and around his ears.

A sudden idea had you moving your hand down to his ear. You touched it gently and he moaned loudly. You giggled and began lightly caressing his ear. His moans turned into whimpers as you neared the pointed tip. At last he popped off your breast and his head fell against your stomach.

"Oh, gods, darling," he whined. "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, that feels... Ohhh, that feels wonderful."

His little moan brought a rush of wetness to your core. You kept playing with his hair, hoping to draw another one of those weak whimpers out of him.

Astarion shuddered into your touch. He was panting heavily and moved shakily, but he still managed to get his hand between your legs. He slid two fingers inside of you with ease.

"Ohhh, sweet girl, you're so wet for me," he breathed. "Can I—?"

"Yes, please," you gasped, knowing instantly what he wanted to do. Your fingers left his ear and he ducked his head between your legs. He pressed a soft kiss to your clit. "More."

Astarion chuckled into your pussy. "Patience, dear." He began to suckle on your clit, the pressure alone enough to make you see stars. Then his tongue flicked over you in the way he'd learned you licked and you fell back against the bed, arching into his mouth. His hands came up to grip your hips and pull you closer to him.

He moved lower and pushed his tongue into your entrance. The two of you moaned in tandem and Astarion's fingers dug into your hip, hard enough to leave bruises come morning.

The sounds of Astarion's slurping became obscene, but you couldn't find it in you to be embarrassed. You only moaned louder as his nose bumped your clit.

Without warning, Astarion slipped his fingers back inside you. You arched into his touch, gasping as his fingers curled inside you.

"Astarion!" you groaned, grinding down on his face and fingers. He chuckled into you.

"That's it, my love, you're close," he murmured, staring into you and watching your walls clench around his fingers. "Just let go for me, you're almost there."

You moaned, writhing as he went back to sucking on your clit. His fingers found the right spot and you covered your mouth with a hand to muffle the near-scream that came out of you—a sound you had no idea you could even make.

"No, no, no," Astarion chided, fixing you with a look. "Don't you muffle those sounds. I want to hear you scream for me, darling."

You whimpered. You panted as your orgasm slowly crept up on you. Your hips stuttered and lifted off the bed—Astarion took advantage and slipped his arm underneath you, dragging you back to him and pressing his mouth back to your clit. He kissed it gingerly, occasionally flicking his tongue over it in the circles you liked so much. Sometimes it amazed you how well he remembered your body and your likes, even if you'd only told him once.

"Astari," you whined, the tight ball in your core very close to snapping.

"I've got you," he whispered. "Come on, sweet girl, it's alright. Cum for me. Cum on my face, darling. I want it. I want to taste you. That's it, that's it, that's it!"

You finished with a loud cry, your back arching, Astarion moaning into your cunt and his tongue lapping quickly to catch every drop of your release. He kept curling his fingers even as your walls tightened to the point of being difficult to move them.

Astarion leaned back, grinning up at you. His face shone; it was almost weird not to see blood on his face. He looked back down at your pussy, staring eagerly, licking your cum off of his lips. "You're so wet, darling. Gods, you'll be a tight fit, but I could slide in right now if I wanted to..."

You nodded very quickly, whimpering. "Please, Astarion, please, I want you to."

He raised an elegant brow at you. "Oh, do you, now?" You nodded, whining. "Say it, darling."

Your body twisted in a way that seemed impossible as you said, a tremendous blush on your face which you were trying to hide in the bed, "I want you to fuck me, Astarion."

He grinned toothily, his fangs shining. A deep sound that neared a growl emanated from his chest. "Again. Say it again, louder."

"Fuck me, Astari," you whined, a little louder than the first time.

Something in Astarion snapped. He pulled you back onto your feet and flush to his body, kissing you fiercely. It was almost harsh, his fangs nicking your lips. You hissed and Astarion pulled back. The desire—a mix of bloodlust and arousal—was clear in his eyes, but he paused to ask, "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine," you promised. "It's not like you haven't nicked me in more sensitive places."

"And you like it, every time," he teased, briefly kissing your forehead. He wiped away a small dot of blood on your lips with his thumb and licked it off.

You smiled at him. "What can I say, you've given me quite the biting kink."

Astarion chuckled. "Cheeky little pup," he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. "Ready to continue?"

You nodded, unable to stop the happy grin that overtook your face at the idea of him finally taking you. A thrill ran down your spine as Astarion laid you back on the bed and crawled up to you, kissing you harshly. You were dimly aware of him pumping his cock between you.

He pulled away suddenly, glancing down his body. "Shit."

You frowned, trying to catch his eye again. "Darling? What's wrong?"

Astarion sighed. "In my...excitement, I may have forgotten a very important detail." He looked down at himself and you sat up and followed his gaze. His cock was half-hard, but not nearly enough to slide into you. You whispered a quiet "oh." In his embarrassment, Astarion refused to meet your gaze. He looked much smaller, like he'd curled up into himself. "Unimpressive, huh?"

The half-disguised anger and humiliation in his voice made your heart ache. You cupped his face, turning his face toward you. You kissed him softly. "Oh, Astarion... No, you're not. You are impressive, you're just not quite ready yet. You forget I've seen you before, fully hard after you feed."

"I think you're missing the point," he said weakly. He pulled his legs up to his chest, effectively hiding himself. "I can't fuck you like this, darling."

"You can once you've had some blood, but that's beside the point." You kissed his cheek, rubbing a hand through his hair. He leaned into your touch. "You're more than just sex, Astarion. Damn good sex, sure, but that's not all you are, no matter what anybody else—and especially your master—told you."

He turned to you, a strange look in his eyes. You took his hand, raised it to your mouth, and kissed the back of his hand. He leaned into you, resting his head on your shoulder.

"This is the second time you've had to say this, something like this, to me during sex," he said with a humorless giggle, a shadow of his usual one.

"And I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it," you promised, kissing the top of his head.

For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, he just blinked until the teary glaze in his eyes went away. "Thank you," he whispered, and he adjusted to kiss the spot on your neck he always drank from. He lightly scraped his teeth against your skin. "Do you want to do this?"

You hummed, leaning into his affection. "Yes, sweetheart. I want this. I want you. I want you very, very badly."

He smiled. "Lay on your side, darling. Let me lay behind you."

You did as he asked, relaxing into his hold and letting him manhandle you into the position he wanted. He pulled you flush against his body, his length pressing into you, his arm around your waist and holding you against him as if he was afraid you'd try to escape the moment he bit you. With his free hand, he brushed your hair off your neck.

"Are you ready, darling?" he whispered, dragging his teeth across the shell of your ear.

You nodded. "Mhm."

"Just relax for me," he breathed. He nuzzled into your neck and kissed the spot he was going to bite. "Right here? Your favorite spot?"

"Right there," you whispered. You put your hand over his and both of you (you weren't sure who moved first) twined your fingers together. He squeezed your hand gently before he sank his teeth into your neck.

Quiet filled the room, except for the rain on the roof, your steady breathing (only steady for now), and Astarion's sucking.

It had been just over a week since he'd fed from you this way, and the sensation was just as alien as it had been that first night you'd let him drink—two tiny shards of ice, the cold numbness spreading slowly through the surrounding area, preventing you from feeling any pain in his bite. Slowly, you acclimated to the sensation and it faded into a dull, throbbing pleasure.

He slid his free hand under your head, holding your head up and your neck steady. He gently scratched your scalp.

"Astarion," you moaned, squeezing his hand. He grunted, continuing his sucking. You focused less on the sound of it—which reminded you vaguely of sucking juice out of a dripping fruit—and more of the feeling of his body against you. "Enjoy this, sweetheart. Please, just for me."

He cuddled closer to you, humming, and you smiled as he let go of your hand to briefly squeeze your hip. Your smile widened when he took your hand in his again as quickly as he possibly could.

It didn't take long for Astarion to start getting into it. He began whimpering softly, so unrestrained you were certain he had no idea he was doing it. Slowly, his hips began rolling against you, gentle motions at first that grew more noticeable and more desperate the longer he drank.

His teeth still in your neck, Astarion began grinding his hardened length into the swell of your ass. His whimpers became moans and then animalistic grunts. He drank in time with every thrust against you and slowly you were reduced to those two sensations.

Throbbing overtook you. Your head was pounding, just slight enough for it to be ignored, and need pulsed in your cunt. You could feel your juices coating your thighs and the dull throbbing in your clit. But the rest of your body was growing pleasantly numb. Your extremities began to tingle.

Astarion's gulps slowed down and his thrusting became feral. You moaned once, very loudly, as his cock slid briefly between your legs and rubbed against your pussy. Your moan spurred him on and he adjusted to keep grinding himself on your thigh.

A few more swallows of blood was all it took for the edges of your vision to get blurry. Your eyes fluttered shut; you didn't have the strength to open them again. You could no longer feel your fingers and you were only partially aware of your hand slipping out of his. But Astarion was incredibly aware of it; he stopped drinking and twisted around you to lay in front of you to check on you.

Your head dropped to the mattress without Astarion's hand holding you up. A sudden wave of dizziness overtook you and you groaned quietly.

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me," he said, cupping your cheek. You opened your eyes. "There's my girl. How are you doing? Feel okay? Did I take too much?"

"Slow down on the questions," you said, "and hold me."

He chuckled and scooted closer, pulling you into his arms. He kissed the top of your head. "But are you okay?"

You nodded. "Give me a minute and I'll be right as rain."

He giggled. "Right as rain..."

You rolled your eyes. "What can I say, the storm's got me thinking." You tucked yourself into his arms, your lips against his chest. You kissed his skin softly. He hummed happily and you continued, nipping at his skin. Now that he'd fed, bruises started to form under your lips.

"I'm okay now," you said after a few moments. The throbbing in your head had eased up and you no longer felt like you were about to pass out.

"Not dizzy anymore?" he asked.

You shook your head. "I'm alright."

He smiled at you; gods, that smile was gorgeous. "Well, now, dear. Let me return the favor..."

You blinked at him. "Favor—? Oh!"

Astarion's mouth was back on your breasts, this time leaving hickeys all over your skin—and tiny, bloody pinpricks from his fangs—that matched the bruises you'd left on him. You whined, gripping his hair tightly.

He grinned against your skin. "Oh, darling—I know. I know you want me. Your body and I have kept you waiting long enough, haven't we?"

You put your hand on his chest. "Wait, darling. Let me..." You slid down his body and gripped his cock in your hand. He groaned loudly, bucking his hips into your hand.

"Oh, darling, that feels..." He moaned. "Gods."

"It's about to get better, if you'd like?" you asked. You kissed his thigh. "Do you want me to?"

Something in his face changed, his features softening. You fancied that you could see some of his walls come down in his eyes, but you chalked it up to your hopeful imagination. But then he was nodding and whispering, "Yes."

You kissed around his base, watching him shudder every time your lips touched his skin. You locked eyes with him and pressed your lips to his base. He whined, high and needy, throwing his head back. You smiled; you'd never heard him make that sound before, but I wanted to hear it again.

You moved up to kiss his tip. A groan came from the back of his throat. You gave his head a small lick and watched his entire body shudder with pleasure.

"Ready?" you asked him, placing another kiss to his length.

"Yes," he breathed, looking down at you. "Yes."

You licked the underside of his cock, from base to head, then took his head in your mouth and sucked lightly. He whined the entire time, growing steadily louder until he was moaning. You took him deeper and he threw his head back again, swallowing harshly. Gods, he's so pretty when he's losing control... You reached up and took his hand, squeezing gently.

He bucked his hips into your mouth. You made a soft sound of slight complaint, surprised by the motion. "S-sorry," he breathed, his chest heaving. His voice was tight, the muscles of his abdomen tight. "You just... Gods, you're good at this. You are...amazing."

You squeezed his hand until he looked down at you, your question was in your eyes: are you alright?

"Keep going," he urged. "I'm— I'm more than alright, darling."

You sank down further until he hit the back of your throat. You moaned to feel him twitch in your mouth; you weren't expecting the breathy gasp that came from him. You did it again and his hand left yours to thread through your hair, putting the slightest amount of pressure on you.

"Is this okay?" he asked shakily, struggling to get the words out through his heavy breaths.

You winked at him and he groaned, the sound feral. He held onto your hair for dear life and you kept sucking, licking the underside of his cock every chance you could. Occasionally, he bucked his hips desperately, alternating between gasping for breath and whimpering your name between moans that verged on sobs.

Astarion jerked his hips, his cock kicking up. You took advantage to swirl your tongue around his tip, tasing his pre-cum. He leaned up on his forearms and you saw the tears on his waterline. Concerned flooded through you. His face was relaxed into an expression of pure ecstasy, but...

You pulled off of him. "Astarion? Are you okay, sweetheart?"

His chest heaved, glistening with sweat, while he gasped for breath. "I— I'm okay. You're wonderful, darling, absolutely..." He beckoned you up to him with two fingers, that dominant look back in his eye. You did as he ordered without question. "Come here. As much as I love this, I need to fuck you."

You whined. "Astari, please. Please. Please, I want you."

"Look at you, begging for me," he cooed, his hand sliding between your legs. He rubbed your clit and you arched into his touch, moaning wantonly. "There she is. That's it, darling, just feel good for me."

You leaned into his chest. "Astarion! I need you. I need you to fuck me, please, gods."

Astarion chuckled and pulled his hand away from you. He gently laid you on your back and crawled over you. He kissed you deeply before sitting back and lining himself up with your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat. Anticipation and excitement mixed in your stomach.

Astarion placed the head of his cock against you and then looked up at you. His face was fond as he met your gaze. "Are you ready for me, darling?"

"Yes," you breathed. "I— Oh, gods, yes!"

"Tell me if it hurts," he whispered. He kissed your forehead briefly.

You watched him move, slowly bucking his hips forward to push his cock inside of you. His eyes fluttered closed at the feeling. You forced yourself to remember to breathe as he bottomed out, your walls stretching to accommodate him; he finally let out a deep groan from the back of his throat.

"Darling," he moaned, leaning down to you. You reached up, putting your hand in his hair, and brought his head down to you. Once again, you weren't sure who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours.

It was a gentle kiss that was fitting for his slow, shallow thrusts. The two of you panted into each other. He put his forehead against yours, glancing down and watching him slide in and out of you, whispering in Elvish at the sight.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "Astarion... Oh, gods..."

"You feel so good," he groaned. "Darling, I— Ohhh, sweet girl." He bent down to lick the small blood spots off your breasts. He moaned sweetly. "You taste even better when I'm inside you, my love. You taste sweet—like a delectable wine."

You whimpered. "I don't mean to deprive you of my blood, dear, but please please kiss me."

He chuckled and kissed his way up your neck, stopping briefly to lick your already-closing puncture wounds, before he kissed your lips. His mouth tasted vaguely of iron.

Your walls tightened around him. He was rubbing inside of you in just the right ways, hitting pleasure spots that his fingers had already made tender. His thrusts were still gentle, not enough to make you see stars but enough to make your entire body relax and give in to the pleasure.

"You're wonderful, darling," he murmured. He reached up to roll your nipple in his fingers. "You feel so perfect around me. So tight...so wet...so eager... Gods, darling, yes, just clench around me like that."

You threw your head back and he immediately descended on it, kissing and licking and nipping at your skin. You could feel the bruises that you would find in the morning.

"Faster," you told him. "I can take more than this, Astari."

He grinned and you were moaning seconds later as he sped up, his hips snapping into you.

"Can you take it harder? Deeper?" he asked. "You have no idea how hard it is not to ravish you, darling."

You cupped his chin and brought him back up to your face. You kissed him hard, more tongues and teeth than anything. You met his gaze and whispered, "Then ravish me."

Astarion pushed his lips back to yours, grunting animalistically, and slammed his cock into you. You cried out, clinging to him desperately as he fucked you relentlessly, his hips snapping against yours, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every thrust. The head of his cock kissed your cervix every time, making your entire body shudder. You began meeting his thrusts and he chuckled, one hand gripping your hip to help keep you up.

You threw your legs around his hips and both of you groaned at the new angle. Astarion muttered to himself in Elvish, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You kissed him, bringing him back to you. He smiled, kissing your forehead.

"Aren't you gorgeous?" he whispered to you, staring deep into your eyes. There was an alertness there that you hadn't noticed the first time he'd fucked you like this, out in the woods that night.

You reached up to cup his cheek. "You're quite handsome like this, Astarion," you murmured. "You always are."

He smiled softly at you and turned to kiss your palm, his hips stuttering for a moment. He grunted and pushed deeper into you, making you cry out again. He glanced down your bodies and watched the two of you thrust into each other.

"Gods, that's a pretty view," he murmured, his voice breathy. "Your slick shining on my dick...and, oh, look at that... The outline of my cock in your tummy. Gods, that's hot." He placed his hand on your lower abdomen where the bulge was and he pressed down. You whined, clenching your teeth and trying not to scream. He, of course, noticed. "Oh, that feels good, does it?"

You whimpered out a weak, "Yes!" He grinned and began pressing down on every stroke into you.

You gripped his shoulder, your nails digging in; you knew there would be scratches on his back and shoulders come morning and you were careful to avoid his scar, knowing just how painful that would be if scratched.

He kept losing his rhythm every so often and you knew he was getting close; thankfully, so were you.

"I'm close," you whispered. "I'm so close, darling."

On the next thrust in, he adjusted the hand pushing down on your abdomen so that his thumb could circle around your clit. "Does this help?"

You whined, nodding frantically. "Oh, Astari— Don't stop, please don't stop, I—" Your words faded into moans. He giggled.

"Don't worry, darling, I don't intend on stopping until you've finished around my cock," he whispered in your ear. Your entire body shuddered.

Astarion's thrusts grew a bit sloppier, but his thumb on your clit remained dedicated to making you cum. You were half-convinced the way he spoke as he gazed down at you adoringly would be enough even without the cock thrusting into you or the thumb stimulating you.

"Gods, look at you," he murmured. "Look at that body, responding to me so eagerly! Those beautiful breasts, perky nipples, all covered in my bite marks... That lovely neck, marked and still just barely bleeding..." He bent to lick the thin trail of blood. "These legs, wrapped around my waist, and that pussy just sucking me in." He brushed your hair out of your eyes. "And I could never forget this darling face, those beautiful eyes just staring up at me like I hung the moon and stars..." He pressed his forehead to yours. Softly, he said, "Come on, darling, cum for me. Cum on my cock. Let me feel you clench around me and lose yourself in me."

The thread inside you snapped. You arched off the bed and into his body. He wrapped his arm around you, holding you to him, whispering words of encouragement. You screamed as you came, clenching so hard around him it was a miracle he kept fucking you through it. He pulled his hand off your clit as soon as the feeling became too much, reading your body with ease.

"That's it," he whispered to you. "That's my girl. Easy, darling, breathe. You did so well. Do you mind if I—" He groaned, hips faltering for a moment. "Do you mind if I cum inside you?"

You whined. "Oh, gods, yes, please do! Cum inside me, Astarion, cum inside me, I want it!"

He moaned happily, kissing your neck fervently. He began rambling. "Hells, darling, you spoil me. Feeding me with your bleeding cunt for a week? Taking my cum the moment it's over? You needy, heavenly little thing." He kissed his way up to your jaw. You put your fingers in his hair. "Oh, you're so wet now, sweet girl. You've soaked me. You look so pretty around me. Oh, gods, you're so much tighter now— I'm not going to last much longer, dear. You're good, you're too good. My love, oh my love!" He lost his rhythm entirely, fucking you only with the need to cum. "I love this. I love every bit of this. I love—"

He cut himself off. He cried out, burying his face in your neck and his cock in your cunt. Warmth flooded you as he spilled himself deep inside you. His hips stuttered and flexed a few more times, his cock twitching inside you, before he finally let out a long breath and collapsed on top of you. Immediately, your arms wrapped around him and you held him tight to your chest.

As the two of you lay panting together, your mind was working on overdrive. He hadn't said it, but you'd heard what he wanted to say: I love you. The very same words you were dying to say.

At last, Astarion lifted his head. "Are you alright?" he asked. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

You combed your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered. "Not one bit, darling. I'm perfectly fine." You kissed his nose and he giggled. You stared at him, your beautiful boy, for a moment, enjoying the feelign of his body actually being warm against yours for once, before you asked, "What about you? Are you feeling alright? Good, even?"

Astarion giggled. "Don't sell yourself short, my love, you're absolutely wonderful. I feel amazing. Content. Cared for. Loved." With every word, his voice got smaller, quieter. He seemed to retract into himself. You frowned.

"Where'd you go? Come back to me," you whispered.

He looked back up at you and the tears were back in his eyes, but this time you doubted they were tears of pleasure. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to..." He sighed. "I didn't mean to disappear on you. It's just...I'm used to that. I'm used to disappearing during sex, after sex... But I didn't do that this time. It was...different with you. It was nice. You've cared for me like no one else ever has. You...you paid attention to what I wanted, how I felt, what I liked. You weren't just using me for your own pleasure. I... It was like...you cared about me. I don't even know what to say! But, ah, you made me feel good, in a lot of ways. So... Thank you, darling."

You cupped his face and kissed him softly. "Of course I care about you, Astarion, I— I...love you."

He tensed up in your arms. A flash of panic passed through his eyes. You shook your head quickly.

"You don't have to say it back," you said hurriedly. "Not until you're ready. But I want you to know exactly how I feel about you. And...I love you."

He smiled and relaxed, melting into your embrace. "Thank you, my love. I...I'm not ready, not quite yet, but...thank you for respecting that. Here—let me cuddle you, I know how much you like that."

The two of you adjusted so that you could lay on your sides. You curled up in his arms and nestled your head into his neck. He carded his fingers through your hair, a gentle movement that was well on its way to lulling you to sleep. You reluctantly pulled yourself away, and only because you had adjusted and suddenly felt the cooling, sticky liquid between your thighs.

"We should get cleaned up," you murmured.

Astarion hummed. "Oh, yes, let me—" He reached for his shirt on the floor and brought it up to himself.

"No, no," you said. "Let me do it."

You took a towel and dampened it in the bowl of lukewarm water on the nightstand—probably there for this exact purpose. You squeezed the excess water out and gently wiped your mixed, drying releases from Astarion's thighs, abdomen, and cock. He sighed softly, relaxing as you cleaned him off.

"No one's ever done this for you before, have they?" you asked. He shook his head. You kissed him softly. "Get used to it, darling, because I intend to do this for you every time."

He grinned, a pleasant blush on his cheeks. "I could get used to this." He took the towel away from you. "Here, let me do it for you."

You laid back and let him slid between your legs. He groaned softly. "Oh, my sweet girl, you look so delicious with my cum dripping out of you."

You blushed fiercely, groaning. "Stop talking like that, or I'm going to demand we go again."

He perked up. "I'm up for a second round—if you can handle it, that is," he added with a cheeky grin.

You considered it for a moment while he wiped your thighs and entrance clean. "Give me an hour and maybe we can."

Astarion smiled and placed a dainty kiss just above your clit. "That's my girl." He laid back down beside you and pulled you into his arms. "Get some rest now, darling, you need it after today."

You wrapped your arms around him and rested your cheek against his chest. "Thank you, Astarion. For everything."

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, stroking your hair. "You're welcome, my love."

~❊~

You were ready to leave the next morning, and you and Astarion met the others in front of the clerk's desk on the first floor of the inn. Astarion handed back the key while you limped over to the group.

Unsurprisingly, Astarion had left you with quite the limp, even more severe than the first time he'd eaten you out at camp. Karlach didn't even try to contain her laughter at the sight of you.

"So you did fuck her last night!" she said to Astarion as he joined you. You blushed heavily. "We had no idea, couldn't hear a thing!"

Astarion raised an eyebrow, then looked at you with a grin. "They couldn't hear us, even with all the noise you made? We're getting a room at an inn every chance we can get from now on!"

"Not so fast," Gale said quickly, "they might not have heard you, but Wyll and I did!"

You squeaked. "You did?"

Wyll nodded, somewhat amused and somewhat apologetic. "You made noises I didn't think were possible. Or meant pleasure."

You turned immediately to Astarion, who was grinning like a cat, and buried your face in his chest. "Hide me."

"It's alright, darling," he whispered to you. "Gale and Wyll were across the hall from us. Next time, we'll just get a room as far away from the others as possible and I'll make you scream into the wee hours of the morning."

You blushed very brightly and the others groaned.

"Don't break her," Shadowheart chided. "Is your wound—"

"It's fine!" both you and Astarion said before she could continue.

"She's all healed up, no more scarring," Astarion promised. "Believe me, I wouldn't have gone as hard as I did if I thought she would get hurt by it."

"Okay, that's enough!" Gale said quickly. "Let's leave, please, and keep going. We've got important business to attend to!"

As you left the inn, Astarion took your hand and kissed the top of your head. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you? That limp's quite noticeable, dear."

"I'm fine," you promised. "You were quite good last night."

"Good. I'd be inconsolable if I had hurt you," he said. He brush your hair behind you ear. "I mean that, you know."

You leaned into his side and kissed his cheek. "I know, darling. And thank you. Now, come on, help me walk. It will be your fault if I fall."

He snorted. "Because I have you a good orgasm? No, wait, how many did it end up being last night? Two the first time...then another three?"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, stop bragging! Come on, Gale's right: we've got work to do."

Astarion kissed you one last time, then pulled you against his side and followed the others out of the village.

☞ ❊ ☜

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Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

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