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capslocked · 2 years ago

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MANAGE (THIS) TROIS

male reader x wonyoung && yujin

12k words

It’s how your Sundays spend you, if you’re to be honest. It’s a day for rest, for sobriety, for virtue and measure, the Lord’s day if you’re at all particularly reverent (citation probably needed), and why Wonyoung is that much more annoyed when Yujin shows up dressed the way she is.

"Uh." Wonyoung laughs and it’s recognizably derisive. "Are you kidding?"

As some may or may not know, the three of you have been friends for ages; the spontaneous combustion into laughter, the ribbing, the teasing, the playful banter, it’s how you’ve always got on—the fact now that the sex is toe-curling and irresistible and downright sinful? An entirely separate issue.

Surely it won’t complicate things.

Technically, you’re all equally at fault the moment Wonyoung spies you making eyes at Yujin as she struts through the living room. She’s wearing only a tank top and a pair of fluorescent pink sports shorts that barely manage to wrap around her thighs, the seam of which gape perfectly to show you just how long her legs are, to the point your bones nearly start to ache.

The truth that Yujin will later vehemently deny is that things spiral out of control on account of the fact that she simply cannot keep her mouth shut, as is usually the case. You’ve come to assume that rather than possessing a shameless love for her own voice, she does it deliberately—to egg Wonyoung on, because the only thing she enjoys more than getting the younger girl flustered, red in the face, and reduced to an incoherent mess is arriving there before she even lays a finger on her.

However, if Yujin’s plan is to get Wonyoung all bent out of shape and worked up and beside herself to the point that she has no other choice than to take it all out on you, it backfires spectacularly.

Wonyoung’s nose scrunches and all her angelic features sharpen to a point as she watches Yujin crash onto the sofa next to you; sends her hands to her hips when she sees that warm arm wrap around your waist—palm flattening against your stomach a moment before sliding into the waistband of your joggers.

"What in the living fuck do you think you’re doing?"

"The way I see it," Yujin starts up again, and even though her words are clearly addressed, enveloped and stamped for Wonyoung, you’ve got the sultry color of her voice flirting in your ear, mouth skirting across your neck to find the gentle marks and bruises she’d made a silent promise to return to. "Miss I-give-the-best-head really shouldn’t have a single thing to get jealous over now should she? I mean, you sounded so sure about it."

"All I said was I have a proven method."

Yujin scoffs. "It’s not a precise science, sweetheart. Different strokes for different—"

"All sciences are precise," Wonyoung snaps back, one elegant brow arching skyward and arms crossing, "that’s what science means."

"Well, I think that’s open to interpretation."

"How… extraordinary."

To Wonyoung’s continued annoyance, the genuine throaty sound of your laughter doesn’t inspire confidence. Neither do the fingers you’ve got sinking into the round of Yujin’s perfect ass as she shimmies onto your lap, but it’s kinda the point. Because you know that the way you have Yujin sinking into a kiss, her hips rutting against you, lips sliding wet and easy and smacking across yours like you don’t care who’s listening—

"Oh, okay sure, let’s see…" Wonyoung pulls a fist out and begins to count on her fingers: "it’s my apartment. That’s my couch. And he’s my boyfriend."

When Yujin pulls herself off from your lips, her fingers continue on raking through your hair, and she just smirks—nearly grinning stupid because she knows how this always ends. Urges you gently as she pulls you by the wrist to grab a second handful of her chest. She’s delightful. And if there’s anything in particular that she flat out refuses to learn from this peculiar arrangement, it’s that you never ever ever try to goad Jang Wonyoung into anything.

"A little possessive, isn’t she?" Yujin asks as her hands, in a near-rehearsed motion, run down across your chest to where she can hook a few fingers into your pants. Gets them just down about the middle of your thighs to pull your cock out far enough to start stroking it.

And when Yujin also says right after—voice lilting into this familiar tone, something Wonyoung should absolutely know better than to walk straight into—that maybe if your girlfriend could take better care of you, that the truth might be: "I dunno, have you considered it could just be, like, personal preference? That he’s dying to bend me over instead? Would rather get my legs folded up into my chest and pump me full of hot cum just like that? I’m sure it’s nothing personal, little dove. I mean look at me: I’m built for it."

Wonyoung floats her fingers to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose.

(Here’s the thing about Wonyoung: she’s quiet, incredibly pretty, reserved and sugar-sweet, and plays her cards close to her chest. With all that dark wavy hair spilling over her shoulders without fuss or pother, deep brown eyes easy to get lost in, she’s the quintessential angel the devil might spend countless nights in fantasy about plucking right out of the heavens and dragging straight to hell. In fact, so angelic is she that Yujin had begun to grow increasingly concerned that all your hard work had possibly been for naught—that for a long time, all those flashes of wicked lust in her eyes may have perhaps not been what you thought they were, those naughty quips and innuendos that never just landed as something you could quite laugh off were possibly a misread; Yujin had an incredible talent for determining which potential conquests were open to a little conquering—but with this girl, she was at wit’s end, had nearly given up. Wonyoung would blush and simper one moment, pale and avoid her the next. Oh, there’s wicked fun to be had in turning a wholesome and prudish princess to her more kinky side, though only if the princess is willing.

Wonyoung, so it seemed, was an incredibly difficult princess to read.)

"Brat," Wonyoung spits, shadowing in behind the girl on your lap and lets her voice lower into a dangerous growl, gets close enough so that Yujin practically winces when she feels the moisture in her breath against her temple. You watch as she gathers Yujin’s hair into her fist. It’s enough to tilt her head back until Yujin opens her mouth in surprise—something Wonyoung knows instinctively to kiss and suck and lick at until her lips grow swollen and tender. Whether or not it had always been the case, the truth could never have delighted you both more: the girl’s no angel.

"Mmmnph." Yujin melts further into your lap at the feeling of the tongue sliding languidly past hers, and you can hear all these little satisfied hums leak out of her chest in droves. When you ball the slippery polyester front of Yujin’s tank top between your fingers, her breasts spill out on either side of the fabric close enough to your face that it takes nary an effort to give one of her small dark nipples a wet kiss—an intense lips-puckering suck to the other.

The moment your mouth gets involved, lapping and licking and caressing her hardening nipples, Yujin starts to squirm. Each flick against her pushes a soft moan straight into Wonyoung’s lips; in many ways, that’s a familiarity the three of you all always manage to return to. Especially now that she’s got her hands wrapped and twisting around your cock, jerking you slowly like she has all the time in the world, like you and your girlfriend aren’t going to fuck her six ways to Sunday and still find her begging for more.

"Aight, listen here," you say finally with calm command, and both girls nearly startle. "It’s my cock you’re stroking. So I’m either fucking somebody or I’m gonna have to go take care of this myself."

The two of them get their eyes on you, both pairs of perfectly sculpted eyebrows ever-so-slightly furrowed. And when you unclench your grip on Yujin’s pliable ass, stretching your fingers wide to run it up her back, their gazes are rapt. Interesting. You file that away.

"Nope. You’re not going anywhere," Wonyoung says, having pulled away from the kiss and let a smug quirk settle into the corners of her mouth—apparently come to grips with the fact that, yes, you are going to fuck Yujin’s body until she’s incomprehensibly stuttering and blabbering, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

In tacit agreement, you slap Yujin’s ass through her shorts hard enough that she yelps. She’s not wrong—not that you’ll let her hear you say it—but she is built for it. You nearly snort, saying, "well hurry up and figure it out, who am I fucking first?"

Wonyoung leans in further to get her point across, to get her hands all over the girl in your lap. "What do you think about that, hmm? How does getting that cock inside you sound?"

"Oh, love." Yujin steadily starts stroking you faster, fingers tightening and loosening in a steady rhythm. Because if there’s anything in the world that turns her on more than Wonyoung abandoning all that about perfection and innocence, it’s feeling your cock grow harder in her hands. "Please please please tell me that it’s me."

She slumps forward at the touch of your fingers searching about the heat between her legs, arches her chest toward you to feed her breast back into your mouth—oh, of all the ways to die, surely. There’s a wistful sigh she lets on, a similar thought brewing and simmer as each touch from your deft fingers arrives closer to where she wants you, voice shuddering along a pleasant note.

"C’mon," she whines, "you get to fuck him all the time. No harm, no foul, right?"

From the way her pussy feels beneath the thin material of her shorts, you realize she’s made the decision to not wear any underwear, made the decision long ago that she’d be fucking herself with your cock and nothing else. A quickly drawn breath of air past her teeth clues Wonyoung in that you’ve got your fingers against her clit and she’s that much closer to begging to let her share you, closer to pleading Wonyoung to let her take your cock and ride it until every muscle in her legs are sore and aching.

You spit Yujin’s nipple from between your lips and laugh out loud.

"Yujin, you slut," you start, "you’re not even wearing anything under here."

There’s another rise out of the girl when you press your hand up against her pussy, close enough to slide a thumb between her lips, close enough that you can feel her heat, her gentle tremor, the way she begs for the friction of your fingertips, your tongue, your cock—anything thing firm and unyielding and attached to you.

"Didn’t stop you from you looking," Yujin insists, arching further back to the grip Wonyoung keeps tight in her hair, whimpering again as she gets her lips hovering beside hers. "Bet he’s been thinking all kinds of things, Wonyoung."

"And I suppose you figure you deserve that much, don’t you," says Wonyoung callously as she starts kneading her fingers into Yujin’s perky breast, the one you’ve left neglected. "Deserve to have this cock pounding you deep and hard and you probably want him to fuck a load of hot cum into you too."

Yujin just nods.

"Figure I’ll get my tongue on your clit for you and make you cum that way, huh?"

"Need to get fucked so bad," Yujin whines at Wonyoung, in the increasingly brief spaces between their loud, lip-pulling kisses—pauses that fill quickly with heated breath and the lust in her unsteadied voice.

Your girlfriend is hardly impressed. She says as much, and then laughs into her ear, pressing a quick kiss to her temple, and chides, "greedy."

Yujin immediately goes pliant, a little whine escaping her that neither of you bother to soothe. She repeats herself several times, "I’ll be good. Promise."

"Oh, I know you will." Wonyoung skates her thumb along her jaw until she finds her fingers threaded beneath her chin, gets her face pointed up so that she can see just how clear and articulate her eyes are, cast down the regal length of her nose and smoldering dangerously into hers. "But I think you’re still entirely way too coherent right now."

Yujin presses her lips against Wonyoung’s again, gets her fingers up over the head of your cock to lather precum into her thumb and drag it all down your length before pumping you in earnest. Wonyoung’s the one who knows you like the back of her hand, how to get you groaning and gritting your teeth with her fingers, her lips, her cunt, however she chooses, but Yujin’s never been far behind. She just smiles when she brings a touch down to your balls, and purrs: "Then that just means you aren’t distracting me enough."

Wonyoung flashes you a grin, and, oh, do you know the look, always mirthless and every bit as cunning—the same whenever she feels the urge to taunt you into sparring with her. She gets it exactly right, the perfect severity to an austere tone that makes Yujin’s hair stand on end at the next thing out of her mouth:

"Bedroom. Now."

It’s almost predictable. Yujin just looks at you with these wide eyes, soft and unassuming like she’s some lost puppy, knowing she’ll want for nothing once she’s in your hands—the way you and Wonyoung always take care of her, how you get her cumming over and over until she’s near hysterical and so overstimulated she has to beg you to stop.

"Best not keep her waiting," you tell the girl in your lap as you press your thumbs down into the curve of her soft, milky skin and massage a few circles into her thighs, "we both know she can quite be the handful."

And but so it’s the three of you—that common plurality coming to a head, you peeling your pants from your waist as you go, staggering not even a few feet down the hallway before Yujin says something that tests the limits of Wonyoung’s patience. You don’t quite hear what it is that sneaks out of her mouth, but whatever it is, you know it’s petulant.

Wonyoung pins the older girl to the wall, hands splayed around the bones of her hips, and there’s nothing forceful about it—the kind of authority she exerts a subtle thing. The two of them exchange more kisses, two curtains of dark silky hair cascading into another and only coming apart as Wonyoung lands fingerprints down the rise of Yujin’s shorts. When Wonyoung raises her face again, letting her breath kiss the tender swell of Yujin’s lips, she’s watching the way she throws her head back to the wall, throat exposed and begging to be marked, marred and bruised.

Wonyoung pushes her tongue between her lips, run semi-circles across them to remind Yujin of the big picture. "You’re fucking wet, Yujin."

"Better do something about it," Yujin chokes out, gentle features wincing again as Wonyoung’s hand slides lower, dipping and diving between her thighs.

"Strip," Wonyoung commands abruptly, liking the way it makes her shudder.

Say what you want about Ahn Yujin, no one thinks she’s stupid—Wonyoung might be the one to take the reins, call the shots, press the two of you under her thumb, but at the end of the day, Yujin always, always, gets what she wants. She starts at the top, raising one arm and reaching it behind her back so that her rack is fucking presenting, all while she shimmies her way out of her shorts, the flash of neon puddling into the floorboards at her feet. Yujin’s body is incredible, all angles and curves in the right places, pointed and soft in this juxtaposition that gets your head spinning—it’s a work of art regardless if it’s underneath you, on top of you, squirming into the cushions of the sofa, the springs of the mattress; it’s the angle, the framing, the change in perspective that always manages to guide you to new conclusions and interpretations.

"Good girl," Wonyoung mutters, and bites off a pitching moan as she seals Yujin’s lips with her own.

The two of them, like this (and in so many other ways), are so aesthetically pleasing. Beyond the way the pair gets their hands on each other’s skin, holds each other, ruts against each other, kisses each other like it’s some overflow of passion ten years in the making, they’re simply breathtaking and stupefying to the point that if you weren’t sinking your teeth into your lower lip while you stroke your own cock at the sight, your jaw would drop. As if the Creator, in their making, that meticulous work, had endeavored to pour as much unbridled, raw appeal to their figures, their forms, and pack an even more ungodly amount of lust into the two of them so that they might wreak havoc on anything they touch.

(And so often is it you, the recipient of all that lust and desire, you poor, poor thing).

But the thing that ultimately gets you behind Wonyoung, hiking her pleated skirt up around her hips and sunk to your knees isn’t so much that you feel left out as much as it is that you can’t let her be the first one to take Yujin apart—before you get your cock in her, get her clinging to your name like a lifeline, muttering it like a prayer, cursing at the top of lungs until she cums all over you and shakes and convulses in your arms. You simply can’t allow it, can’t do anything other than get Wonyoung’s stockings frayed, furled and fucked between her thighs and stick your face straight into her cunt.

"Oh, what’s the matter, little dove?" Yujin asks, eyes smug and content at how you have Wonyoung’s lithe frame curling into her, the choked back whimper you force out of her throat as you tear through the sheer fabric of her leggings. "Maybe… perhaps… you’re dying to get fucked too?"

"Watch it," Wonyoung growls.

"Or what?" Yujin just laughs, even though Wonyoung’s fingers continue to twist and dive inside her, start to make her cheeks flushed and stained, she’s purring: "Oh I know, you’re going to have to punish us both… like what a total drag."

She’s not going to be in a state to do much of anything, is how you see it, pressing your lips harsh to Wonyoung’s pussy, drawing out circles with your tongue on the hot, sensitive skin—drawing out a broken gasp that has her shooting up a hand to cover her mouth. But it’s too late. Yujin sees the opportunity for what it is.

Though you suppose there’s only patience enough for the first few buttons from the top of Wonyoung’s collar before Yujin decides to tear the garment from her shoulders, sending buttons flying and rolling across the floor. Wonyoung flinches while trying to retreat from the touches Yujin reaches up her skirt, and she simply backs up further into your face. You’ve got your tongue splitting her lips, tasting her entrance and making her pretty mouth—usually so poised and elegant and polished—start to cuss and swear.

"Baby, baby, baby," Yujin says, voice trailing, and she starts to preen Wonyoung’s hair out of her face so she can look her straight in the eyes, "You ride this cock every day, and here you are: even more desperate than me."

"Hey now, that’s not fair," you say as you surface from between the backs of Wonyoung’s thighs with a scowl, and seemingly without even thinking, pull your grip off her tight cheek to slide two fingers into her. You listen to her keen as you get two, three knuckles deep inside her hot cunt. "She doesn’t always ride."

"Hmmm." Yujin wraps her arms around Wonyoung and grabs your hips. "What do you think? The bed? Or fuck her right here?"

You still have your digits curling inside her, so she hardly minds at all when Yujin grabs her firm by the chin and slips her tongue in her mouth—for someone with such a strong resolve, she’s awfully sensitive, shockingly easy to unravel—minds even less when you lean over her shoulder and get your voice in her ear, teasing, "would you like that, princess?"

"Yujin," and she has it choked up so bad you can’t help but laugh as it nearly gets caught in her throat on the way out. She swallows, gathers her fleeting composure and wrestles herself from the girl’s grip before reaching her hand behind her and onto your waist, putting a stop to you fucking her right then and there. Makes you settle for sliding your cock between her cheeks.

"Yujin, darling," she starts again, voice again composed and unsheathed and apparently risen from the ashes—fashioned into a sharpened edge and held firm at the girl’s throat—only instead of terrifying her, it merely has Yujin licking her lips, struggling in anticipation. The three of you are only ever right where you’re meant to be. "I thought I told you. Get on the bed."

Wonyoung takes a beat to finagle with the rest of her clothes, removing the stockings you’d ruined and tossing them into the bin before sliding her skirt down around her ankles. Just like anyone else, she steps one foot out of them, and then the other, but the whole motion looks elegant and poised without even trying. She really is incredible like that. You’re always sure to remind her of it. And you can tell she’s rolling her eyes when Yujin makes a comment about not having it all down to a science in what is possibly the least sincere apology to date before dragging her tongue up the length of your cock, a loud kiss punctuating the end of the gesture as she reaches the tip.

Yujin’s on Wonyoung’s bed, again the familiarity something to marvel at, belly down and knees bent with her feet kicking over her frankly immaculate ass as she props herself up onto her elbows to properly lick you. She teases again, fitting her lips around your head and letting spit run down your cock. I hope you don’t mind, she efforts to say with her mouth stuffed, garbled and muffled and almost unintelligible.

Almost.

"At this rate," Wonyoung pipes up before settling in behind you, arms running around your waist and holding you by the base of your shaft, "both of you’ll be lucky to have much left to mind when I’m through with you."

Yujin pulls her mouth off you, lips smacking. Laughs out loud at the thought, and you watch her pull a bundle of hair back past her ear, angle her mouth better to meet your cock, and start to tease, "there’s our princess."

"Want your mouth too, Wonyoung," you say over your shoulder, and even if you’re pushing your luck, you know that deep down, Wonyoung can’t refuse a chance to show off, another opportunity to put Yujin in her place. "Maybe show her how it’s done."

She nearly snorts. "You’re spoiled."

She’s a slut for your cock anyway, you figure is what Yujin tries to say, but it gets lost in translation as you push your way between her soft lips, choking her for a brief moment with your cockhead in her throat. It’s all slippery and shiny with her spit after you pull your hips back, and it’s an invitation Wonyoung shakes her head at, until finally capitulating, "fine."

This silent competition that they settle into sees you as its sole beneficiary—your cock hardly left untouched, unlicked, uncared for by either of their mouths. They each have that burning desire to be the one that makes you melt, gets you to curse and moan and point your cock at their pretty face while you cum. Given that their goals are hardly aligned, it’s astonishing that they work in such beautiful harmony: Wonyoung licks your shaft, Yujin at your balls; kisses reach where another cannot, and you’re at the complete mercy of all the sinful motions of their tongues and lips—they’ve made you cum like this plenty of times before and they know they can do it again.

"Fuck," you curse, letting it slip, letting them each know you’re that much closer to being the first one to go. "Feels so fucking good."

The moment you start to bundle and brush all that dark silky hair from their faces, weave your hands into it at the napes of their necks, the movement and response is so elegant that it appears choreographed, rehearsed, and to some extent, that’s not far off. In tandem, Yujin and Wonyoung’s tongues slide across your shaft; their lips meet, pull apart, drag wet against your cock and kiss once more—these soft, ephemeral touches that leave all three of you yearning. Every now and again, one of them will take you further into the heat of their mouth, but it’s nothing selfish or ambitious, as they’re soon back to giggling and making out like the head of your cock isn’t resting every so reliably between them.

"Should make him paint our faces," Yujin says, smiling and rolling her fingers through your balls.

Wonyoung scoffs, "don’t get ahead of yourself."

This how your Sundays spend you, if you’re to be honest. The three of you never do make it to church (Saturday evenings so quickly turn to night to morning in the flash of an eye, and you’re all too sore and aching to get out of bed), but there’s no lack of worship to be had at the edge of Wonyoung’s bed—heads bowed in reverence as these two sets of heavenly lips cushion the length of your cock, tongues lathering and slipping about its sensitive skin. No, it’s not any substitute for a pew: they’re not kneeling or genuflecting or gazing up at you with their big wide eyes, watching for a sign from above—that you might wince and furl your brow; pull your cock back and jerk off until you paint over their angelic faces.

But as you run your fingers through their hair, gently fuck the unholy union where their soft, wet lips meet, the only thing curling off your tongue is an irreverent hiss, "fuck, girls, Jesus, I probably could cum like this." You reach forward, and plant a hand on Yujin’s ass, watching her soft skin ripple at the impact—she just squeals when you do it again, harder. "Fuck."

"Don’t," Wonyoung snaps. "That’d be, like, a total waste." She gets her fingers on your balls, and tells Yujin, breath hot and kissing the skin of your cock, "now watch me sweetheart. You start first, here, slow at the tip—"

The little kiss that Wonyoung plants at the end of your cock quietly makes it way down and around your shaft, and then it’s her tongue reaching beyond her lips to swirl and twist about your sensitive shaft. Yujin takes a mental note, grinning and teasing her fingernails across your stomach like she’s was watching it all for the first time, whenever Wonyoung makes you groan.

"Well, aren’t you lucky," Yujin tells you, as she studies the masterclass that is Wonyoung sucking cock. She strokes you every now and again, bringing her own hands into a cadence that matches how Wonyoung fucks you with her lips, even if it’s almost an afterthought.

"Her pussy’s better," you admit, even if she can easily get you shaking and cumming with only her tongue. Railing your girlfriend’s cunt is a completely different kind of pleasure, but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth or the lips or wherever it is your cock is being serviced—it’s ecstatic perhaps, diffuse, expressive, the way Wonyoung takes you in her mouth. She twists. She laps. Her cheeks hollow and she sucks. In the right hands—and Wonyoung is absolutely on that list—you feel intensely wanted, intensely taken care of and it makes your balls ache, your cock twitch.

"I can feel you throbbing," Yujin says, eyes beaming up at you and swiveling her hips about, ass waving ever-so-raised in the air above Wonyoung’s bed sheets—that’s an image you’ll tuck away, be sure to return to.

"Yeah," you manage, and you’re reeling when both girls get their fingers locked around your shaft, pumping you in a perfectly fucked harmony. "It feels, ugh, incredible."

"If she isn’t every bit as dangerous when she goes down on me." Yujin laughs, knowing that Wonyoung’s mouth is warm and wet and perfect. Knowing that she’s begging for stern recourse when she fists a handful of her luscious dark hair and pushes your girlfriend’s bobbing head down nearly to the base of your cock, continues to egg her on while making her choke and spit, "oh, good girl, suck that cock, you lovely, pristine, whore—"

The ire in Wonyoung’s face—brow twisting and eyes narrowed—says it all when she pulls herself off you. There’s a visible tear or two forming on the end of her long lashes and a hand pumping your shaft to make sure you’re hard and every bit as unyielding for Yujin’s throat. "Fuck. I suppose you don’t have to learn anything, you brat."

You catch the devilish glimmer in Wonyoung’s eyes as your eyes meet, and the corners of her mouth twist into this smug smile as she tumbles backward and lands at Yujin’s hips—gets them propped up and her face between her legs.

"Oh fuck," Yujin says as the realization comes to her, in the breath before you get your hands in her hair and slip her mouth around your shaft. Her tongue flutters beneath the sensitive belly of your cock, nothing controlled or meticulous, but to her credit, you’re also punching straight to the back of her throat, these choked sounds spilling up from her chest each time your cockhead brushes with the hot, wet space you can only reach from her perfectly slacked jaw.

Now you have to pay close attention to something that’s going to seem obvious at first: the two girls are nothing alike. Wonyoung has you mapped out and understood to a dangerous degree, can make you cum and wail and gnash your teeth (the kind of skillful tonguework that now has Yujin humming and moaning onto your cock as it currently arrives between her thighs), but the thing about Yujin—her mouth is simply made for fucking—as if each time you socket your cock away in her throat, she’s gained something for it, simply delighted, finds her calling, her purpose, and it gets her reaching her fingers around you, splayed out into the back of your thighs to reel you into her lips again.

Forced to answer—and goodness, you hope the day never comes—it’s impossible to pass up.

She shuts her eyes tight when you draw your hips back, swirls her tongue over where you ache and throb, and relaxes to let you deep into her again. You grunt, she chokes, you might both be tearing up—the wet sounds from both your crotches totaling to a sum greater than its parts—this is pleasure exquisite, and if you’re considering your vices, your virtues, neither of you can quite figure out what happened to temperance.

"Fuck me, Yujin, your mouth," you say, sinking your teeth into your lip until it stings, and your moans start to come out in involuntary dribbles. It’s hard not to note how the corners of Yujin’s mouth smirk as it opens wider to take you in between her lips, granting you more warmth and wetness to fuck your length into. There’s a clear irony in the way you brush those stray hairs out of her face, keeping her image elegant and faultless; you’re aware of it, all at odds at the way you grip her hair into a rough pony tail and fuck your length into her—pull your hips back and guide her down onto your shaft again.

"Feels so fucking good," you repeat, breath heavy at the beck and call of your cock lodged deep in Yujin’s mouth. She coughs again, and you can feel the wet slick of her spit lather you, find you that much easier to take. When you pause, because god knows if you keep at it, you’ll be flooding her throat with a hot load—one that’s been building and aching since the girl pounced on you in the living room and decided to stroke you through your shorts and get you all hard and needy—she simply picks up the slack, gets her hand on your shaft and pumps and twists you until you’re making a promise, "gonna cum, god, keep doing that, wanna cum in your little mouth."

Only thing is, Wonyoung finds a loose thread and pulls Yujin apart first. It’s clear as anything: that fucking tongue is made for eating cunt. Each lick against Yujin’s aching entrance returns her further and further to the basics—breaks her apart slowly so that Wonyoung might know just exactly how to put her back together and do it again.

And you’re left so very needing when she lifts her face off you, letting these loud, harsh gasps replace the sound of her lips around your cock, the sound of you fucking her face and getting spit and pre-cum all over your waist, her chin—it’s a mess. It’s hot and sinful and you’re biting hard into your lip that you might find some way to resolve the issue of needing a hole to fuck your cum into. A total mess.

You watch her spine arch magnificently, thighs shaking and quivering, head thrown back into the fireworks of it all—Wonyoung doesn’t even surface, she’s not there to bring the girl to her orgasm and then cuddle her after, drift away in the pillow talk and the gentle petting and kissing; she continues licking hard and fast still at the girl’s pussy, fingers gliding through the aftermath of it all while she’s sensitive and aching. Her eyelids are softly shut, peering out just over the beautiful mound that is Yujin’s ass while the girl writhing about has hers clenched tight, the over stimulation become too much to bear.

"Oh god, fuck, fuck, oh fuck," she whines, collapsing into the sheets, muscles tensing and freezing until her mouth hangs open—the dam within her at a point that cannot do anything other than simply break.

Wonyoung doesn’t even flinch. You can hear her fingers get messy and sloppy as they continue to fuck Yujin’s tight hole while she steadies the girl with another hand on her waist. It’s always been the truth: Yujin loves to be manhandled, yearns for it, even if it’s Wonyoung’s dainty wrists holding her in place—so it’s to her added pleasure when you swing yourself over the bed and tell your girlfriend you’re going to get your cock in Yujin’s cunt too.

"Gonna fuck her," you spit, pulling Wonyoung up off the quivering, aching mess that is Yujin on the bed. Her body is practically limp, all those muscles she’d spend hours in the gym working to maintain do nothing beyond lie still for you and only jump back to life at the feeling of your cock slapping her ass, labor to voice out a silent cry when you point it towards her sopping, needy cunt.

"Remember," Wonyoung says with an obvious lethality in her voice—oh, she can kill, do it all with a smile—still wiping Yujin’s slick from her mouth with the back of her wrist, "she asked for this."

You curl over her rear and the soft skin of her ass presses into your hips, spreads out across your stomach—it’ll be red and aching and she’ll love you for it. A kiss at her temple, and the promises you’re whispering in her ear make her fucking whimper, "Gonna cum in you, babe. Gonna get you all worked up and cumming again and clenching down on me and I’m gonna fuck this load deep into you."

Yujin worries her lip between her teeth as she nods and mewls like the fucked mess she is. Thoughts sent spiraling at the idea of your hard shaft railing between her legs, the promise of being packed full with your cum—and the kiss your cock makes against her as you align yourself between her wet lips sees her nearly collapse. She just rasps, breath broken and uneasy and you’re not even inside her yet, "Yes, please—need it."

"Oh my god—" Yujin gasps out loud as you slip inside her. She’s not incoherent yet, but all that’s got to be close; you can feel it.

"Hey, don’t cum right away," Wonyoung tells you, "I want to see her cream all over that cock of yours, show me how you fucking ruin her."

It’s a tall order, sinking into the overwhelming tight heat that is Yujin’s soaked cunt. She takes you easily, all worked up and fucked from Wonyoung’s mouth, the expertise of her tongue against her clit—almost too easily. "Fuck, wanna cum," you breathe, curses and expletives flowing like water.

"Oh, I’m sure you will," Wonyoung says from behind you, lips pursed at the sharp blade of your shoulder as she massages circles into your hips. "But you know how it is: only good girls get cum in their pussy. Don’t make love to her. Fuck her. Use her."

It’s almost insane that you listen, that you let this girl who weighs half of what you do sit in the saddle—oh, because how easily you can get Wonyoung underneath you and fucked and falling apart just as fast, get your fingerprints up around her the hollow of her throat until she begs you to make her cum—insane that you’re not starting from where you left off in Yujin’s mouth, pounding and fucking with that selfish, industrious alacrity. That in spite of it all, your hips draw back, and when they dive back in, it’s no more than a slow, methodical, purposeful thrust. Yujin simply fucking keens as you stretch out her cunt, and the sensation overwhelms her, filled so perfectly that all she can do is sink her face into the pillows.

"That’s it, face down, ass up, like a good slut," Wonyoung croons from over your shoulder, voice growling into something dangerous. "Nice and slow, really make her feel it."

You’re still cooling down from the moments that had you almost unspooling and unloading ropes of cum into Yujin’s mouth, but the girl you’re fucking is on the other side of all that, turned the page and blissfully quivering and still in the high that had spilled her slick all over your girlfriend’s chin. You adjust her between your hands, gripped firmly onto her waist—noticeably narrow and tiny to the point that says, oh, you can break her, but then there’s the round ass that cushions your thrusts into her cunt, and it reminds you, oh,she can take more. A lovely paradox to ram your cock into.

"It’s so good, so good, just like that," Yujin keeps repeating, throwing herself back into you and chasing her own high. There’s all this desire, all that neediness, she’s simply incorrigible—and her anticipation begins to consume her. "Yes, yes, yes—oh my god."

"You’re fucking creaming," you tell her, like she doesn’t know it, and you slap her perfect ass so hard she yelps. Massage circles into it before getting your hand sunk into the other cheek. All three of you know it: her ass is fucking delightful. You could get lost in those dimples that sit just below where her waist flares into those wide hips (and you most certainly have). All the curves about this canvas of beautiful satin-smooth skin. As you get your voice out to remind her how stunningly beautiful she is, start telling her to cum on your cock, Yujin practically screams.

Sure, sometimes it may appear like you’re being too rough, too risky, that you’re causing harm, doing damage, and you get how it can come to seem that way, given how you’ve got her body writhing beneath you, fucked and mewling, but here’s the thing you have to remember, and Yujin said it herself: she’s built for it.

"You gonna fill me?" Yujin asks, gasping for air like she’s just washed up on shore, "Gonna make me your cumdump, daddy? Go ahead, do it—fucking use me."

Your thumb is searing its print harsh into her jaw, and you pull her up into your mouth so that your words are clear and painfully articulate, "needy brat."

Her words come out shaky, punctuated by the way you pound her into the mattress, into nothing less than submission. "You—love—this—needy—brat."

She knows it, you know it, because it’s all too true. Because you are ramming, bulldozing, ruining her aching hole; every stab into her tight cunt has her curves rippling and her voice shattering into a million pieces. She moans hard when you bottom out inside her.

"Please." Starts sputtering when you do it again. "I can feel you so fucking deep."

"There you go," Wonyoung says, the sultry sound in her voice tickling the shell of your ear, "fuck her like she deserves, look… she needs it so so bad."

"Hey, I know how to fuck," you curse, eyes rolling back over your shoulder, and it’s a mistake. Before you can continue the thought, Wonyoung kisses you hard—hungrily licking and pulling at your lips like she needs you more than girl at the end of your cock. She’s got her hands all over your chest, your sides, fingernails scraping light across your skin and relishing the motion of you pounding her mess of a friend, the way you’re slicing her voice to ribbons and flooding her throat with wanton moans and squeals and whimpers. And when you’ve got your shaft so deep in Yujin’s perfect cunt that your lips part briefly to make some foreign noise of your own, Wonyoung seizes the chance for what it is, slides her tongue right between them. Nothing shy or reserved about it.

"Mmnnph." She can probably feel your heart racing, feel you coming higher and higher, feel the way you shudder when you get Yujin’s hips further elevated in your grip, settling fast into this angle that lets you stab deeper, fuck harder. But with the two of you briefly silenced, it becomes just the soundtrack of your cock boring hard into Yujin—the harsh thrust of your hips against that fucking perfect ass, the way she’s whimpering in delight—that you have to hold onto, keep yourself distracted from the wet and blistering heat you bury into each time you rail into her needy cunt.

"Oh, of course you do," Wonyoung finally breathes against your lips, a dangerous smile forming on her own, "Why don’t you remind the girl moaning and creaming all over your cock. She’s practically sobbing. Go on, I think she’s earned it."

The way you have Yujin remember it, the pleasure she can only find at the end of your open palm, arrives quickly and without warning—when you bring a hand down onto her ass cheek, print outlined in white and quickly fading, Yujin’s voice leaks out, shattered: "Oh fuck, please." She slides her hands forward, back arching into a curve that makes you dizzy, ass still presenting and proffering toward you like it’s her duty. And whether it’s purposeful or not, she clings to the word like it’s her lifeline, no more suitable to moor herself to than the sheets she bundles and pinches between her fingers, "please, please, I just need… please…"

"Look at that, you’re fucking owning her pussy," Wonyoung purrs, noticing it well before either of you, too distracted in the throes of your own sex to see the signal flares, the warning signs laid out in front of you, Yujin’s knees fucking wobbling and her hips chasing back as you draw your cock out of her cunt. "She’s going to cum again."

"N-Need more… please… more… harder…"

And at the end of a long, deep thrust into her wet, well-fucked cunt, she absolutely does.

"Cumming," she pants, twice.

It’s every bit as incredible as ever, her mouth hung open and barely able to form the words she needs. Your hand is flush against her ass again, meeting the rosy pink glow of that growing stain, and this time Yujin doesn’t simply bounce back, elastic, resilient. She starts to babble, curses and names and thoughts all trading meaning and purpose as she crashes her whole body to the bed—clenches tight around your cock to the point that it’s a challenge to keep yourself between her slick thighs and buried deep between her ass cheeks as you fuck relentlessly into her prone form—however the extent to which it slows your effort, if any, is unclear.

"God fuck, I can’t get enough of you, Yujin, your little cunt is just incredible," you rasp, teeth gritting as your limbs spill over the top of her exhausted body—before a groan, loud and obscene, has the broken edges in your graveling voice striking at a vein laid deep within her, something foundational and base and instinctual:

"Cum, want you to cum, want to feel you—"

"On your back, dear," Wonyoung says flatly, taking enjoyment in the way she writhes beneath you. "Let him fuck you nice and deep, Yujin."

Yujin is nothing if not compliant, putting up no fuss as you turn her hips in your hands, get on her back and those long legs onto your shoulders. You fill her to the hilt. Make her blather and gasp, mewling, moaning, collapsing. You’ve got fingers leaving bruises in her thighs like she’s yours and always will be and she fucking loves it.

"Fuck her hard, love," Wonyoung urges, eager to see her fall further from grace. "Show her how she needs your hard cock. Show her what a slut she really is."

You can’t help but study the way Yujin holds her mouth agape, frozen in delight, tiny breaths punched out at increasingly short interval on the end of your sharp thrusts—incapable of retaliation, some cute quip or needling retort uncharacteristically absent—Wonyoung makes the same observation, swings her thighs over the girl’s face, gets her pussy resting on her lips and lifts a sweetly challenging eyebrow at your perplexed expression.

"Oh? What is it? No good?" she asks, rubbing her fingers into Yujin’s tits, holding them in place while you pound at her hot cunt. "You going to tell me you want to kiss her while you get off and fill her up?"

"If you don’t mind," you choke, uncrossing Yujin’s legs from in front of your chest— because yeah, too tight.

"Ugh, how cute and wholesome is that." Wonyoung slides backward, reaches down to get a kiss in of her own before whispering, "He treats you so good—so open your legs wide for him darling, show him what a good little fuckhole you can be."

You watch as she closes her eyes, pulls at the sheets. She’s unbelievably pretty, and even hotter when she’s all fucked and bothered—blush burning in her cheeks and sweat building at her brow, lips parting and muttering: "Love that… love it… please, you own me. I belong to you, please just fuck me."

Yujin’s such a ruined mess and Wonyoung is enamored with the fact that you make her way, legs opening and wide and letting you sink in. The way you’re moaning together—it’s filthy, it’s indulgent, it’s so unbelievably hot.

Invested now in seeing how it all comes apart, Wonyoung’s holding Yujin still as you bring her knees to her shoulders, nearly fold the girl in half and get her bent at an obscene angle—bottoming out into her pussy, fucking her hard into the springs of Wonyoung’s mattress and crossing those familiar boundaries, the precipice of your own undoing. There’s no backing out. You’re going to cum, going to fucking use Yujin like the perfect little cumdump Wonyoung reminds you she is, and there’s no other way you’d have it.

Your girlfriend’s just dragging her fingers through Yujin’s hair, thumb rubbing gently at her cheek, caring and intimate even though her words cut deep, slice straight to the bone, "Hey, do you know why they call it a mating press?"—there’s no time wasted getting her fingers between your balls, knows with a touch here, a touch there, she can get you to fucking explode—"He’s gonna cum so deep in you baby, gonna fill you up, gonna breed you."

Fuck, you are shaking. Her pussy clenches, grips, and it’s just that good.

"Please, please, I want to feel it. Need to feel you fucking burst." Yujin’s got her palms flat on your stomach, bracing herself, just whimpers in a half response—too raw to be a grunt, too shaky to be a cry of triumph—sounds effortlessly elated all the same as she makes a series of tiny nods, pleading, do it.

"That’s right, take what’s yours," Wonyoung says into your ear, clearly holding back a laugh at the sight of your depravity—still too poised and composed for your taste, but it’s a bridge too far to care. "Do it. Cum. Just fucking use her."

It’s only a handful of pernicious strokes that make it happen. Really, you can count them—one, two… five… six… seven… eleven—Yujin’s breathing in fits and starts at the end of each one. At Wonyoung’s command, that light squeeze from her slender fingers, you’re there: crashing your mouth onto the girl beneath you, kissing Yujin hard and moaning brazen into her lips. They’re soft and cool to the touch even though her breath is heated and hazarded by the way you’re pumping cum into her cunt, fucking it deeper inside her as you continue to thrust and pound and use her like a toy—Yujin barely manages to moan back; she’s yours; you’re hers; the two of you both so absolutely spent, dismantled, fucked.

(Honestly, you spill like it’s the first time in weeks, like Wonyoung hadn’t milked a load out of you and onto her flat tummy with her hands just earlier this morning, and you’ve got hot cum pooling deep in Yujin’s pussy, leaking down her thighs, and making you nearly slip out from between her legs.

Yujin’s hands are soft on your hips, those small movements pulling you somehow closer into her fucked, exhausted, collapsed body; Wonyoung’s fixing your hair, thumb along your spine, to the nape of your neck and rubbing as if to say, you fucked her so good sweetheart.

It’s absolute and total bliss.

The important thing here is not how long you lay there before Wonyoung gets her dangerous fingers back inside Yujin—scoops your cum out from her cunt and slips it between her lips—only that it’s warm and hot and perfect and you wouldn’t mind if you never left.)

"Because it’s fucking sensitive," you tell Wonyoung, and your eyes flick up to the whine in the shower’s pipes coming to a sudden stop, the glass door sliding in its track.

"I don’t care."

Wonyoung clambers across your legs, reclaiming your attention as she settles her weight onto your thighs with little to no fanfare. You barely have the time to register her touch across your abs before it’s gone again, and there’s no hiding the lethal quirk shadowing in at the corner of her lip when she ruts herself against your hips, glides herself over your shaft and tells you, "You’re going to fuck me."

Even if it’s the usual fair—you laying there, just under Wonyoung’s weight, all her milky soft skin spilling on top of you—she’s perfect in so many ways. In your arms, in your lap, on your cock, it’s hard to pick a favorite.

"What’s the matter?" she asks, smirking and holding back a laugh (that’s her brand, you’ve come to realize, manifested into something of a trademark; it’s killer), and she slaps your shaft twice against the concave flatness of her stomach. The visual of your stiff cock beneath her navel is absolutely everything: look at how far you’ll fill her, how much you’ll stretch her.

"Oh surely you didn’t think I was going to let you call it quits?" Wonyoung pumps her fingers up and down your length once. Adds a little twist to the end of it when she starts to repeat the motion. "C’mon, now," she murmurs, half smiling against your temple because what a way to set the scene, "talk to me, wanna hear that pretty voice of yours baby."

"Haven’t been doing a whole lot of thinking if I’m being honest."

She laughs out loud. Postures herself, gets her hands raking through her hair, letting it cascade perfectly off her shoulders, her collarbones—makes sure that if you’re going to be fucked, it’ll be underneath the sheer image of perfection. "I’d suggest you keep at it then."

Both of you watched the girl you’d fucked into a hot mess stammer on about the shower as she made her way off the bed—got your heads pointed on an identical tilt when she strutted into the bathroom, cum still leaking down her thighs and her hips positively swaying. If Yujin had become liquid, malleable, in your hands, you’re about to fucking puddle in Wonyoung’s.

"You should hear how she talks about you," Wonyoung says, right before taking a beat to adjust, the serene and elegant lines in her face faltering for only a moment when she sits herself on your cock. "The girl just goes on and on about how amazing your cock is, how you make her cum, that heaven-sent look on your face when you’re ravaging her pussy—"

"Fuck," you hiss out, barely making it through the word’s elegant simplicity. Entering Wonyoung for the first time is always an experience. Wetter, hotter, impossibly tighter, with every inch, and it practically makes you shiver. Though, she hardly makes any notice of it beyond the self-satisfactory hum in her throat, that you’re frozen, dazed, coping with the fact that your world had straightened on its axis.

She lifts her hips up. Drops them back down on you. She’s hot and wet and so fucking incredible, you’re aching. The growl you finally let slip is something feral. Of course, Wonyoung just smiles, a million dollar look, and draws a circle across your chest with a fingertip.

"You know…" Her voice trails. "Sometimes I almost catch myself feeling jealous."

You swallow back on a drying moan. "Yeah?"

"But then I realize something every time."

Like there’s nothing to it, her hips sink onto you once more; it’s pain, it’s pleasure, it’s the wind right out of your fucking sails, and you’re so overcome with all of it when that saccharine sweetness in Wonyoung’s voice starts to dance through your thoughts. The very same instant she surrounds you again in her heat. It’s so surreal it’s fucking intoxicating.

"Oh, do tell," you barely manage to gasp out, reeling at the point of impact: her thighs flush against yours, clenching hard onto your cock. There’s never been a question; Yujin can drain you, but Wonyoung’s pussy is so hot, so silky-smooth-perfect, so criminally tight it finds you speechless. You, with all your charm and wit, silenced like it’s nothing.

"I get to fuck this cock."

You don’t even manage a strangled moan. Completely mute when she crashes onto you again. Envelops you in that tight, blistering heat.

"Whenever."

—and again.

"I."

—and again.

"Want."

Now it’s not like you should be surprised by any of it. On a scale of one to ten, Wonyoung is an eleven, though you imagine if you asked her, she’d give herself a twelve. The entitlement isn’t anything new, nor is it all too undeserved.

So, let me take care of you, is how she says it, which is a sort of comedy gold given the context. It makes her out to be some sort of saint, chasing some lofty and altruistic goal that has no care or regard for the knot twisting in her stomach, the fucking absolute neediness of her pussy leaking and creaming all over your waist.

"God—gah—you are so tight, Wonyoung, fuck."

You shoot your hands forward to get them on her tiny waist, brace yourself against the next bounce from her thighs, the insane grip she has on you. It’s a misstep; and it triggers a riposte. She executes flawlessly—gets your wrists pinned to the bed above your head—reminds you that she’s always in control, and starts to ride you in earnest.

"Let me," she repeats, twice, and you’re at her mercy, entirely doubtful you’ll receive any. She looks at the way you wince, the way you grovel; she softly sh-sh-sh’s you to silence, rolls her hips on you fast and hard and starts to fuck at a tempo that is for her. Her hand is on your jaw and her thumb drags along your lip when she asks you, quietly, "It’s better, right? You love fucking this pussy… need me so bad, don’t you? Tell me."

"The best," you say, voice drier than either of you expect. "So fucking good."

Even if you are hanging on by a thread, you figure she believes you. Because the smirk on her lips grows in intensity, its smolder just as damaging as the way she finds herself fucking you at that angle, that depth—gets her hands planted firm on your chest and sends your teeth into the raw swell of your lip. She holds you there, captive, and makes only the slightest motions; it’s no different than the way she’d take you in her fingers in the mornings—get you cumming and moaning beneath the sheets with these minute, focused touches.

"Ah, I can feel you. Feel you throbbing, aching. Need you to ride that edge, baby," Wonyoung rasps, letting nothing slip or falter in the way she moves—this entire litany of precise, meticulous movements her hips drag out along your shaft—and fuck. Okay. Okay.

Her hand cups the back of your neck. Urges you to sit up, and when you do, you’re at her chest, the soft skin mapping out along her collarbones. She leads you to her subtle cleavage, has you splitting with your nose, your lips, taste of salty sweat on your tongue. There’s the familiar lines of her body—the way the curves and edges of her lithe frame weave perfection, how they all come crashing down at once on your cock. That voice in your head telling you bite your cheek, clench your knuckles, because she’s far too much, she’s far too perfect, she’s everything—

"Oh, because of course." Yujin appears from around the bathroom door post wearing nothing but a towel tucked neatly beneath her arms, the effort at something like modesty a day late and a dollar short. Her hair is still damp, tied up above her shoulders, and she’d wiped all that ruined makeup from her eyes—she’s gorgeous as ever, and clearly a little annoyed that you two started again without her. Smirking, fingernail between her teeth she asks, "did watching your boyfriend fuck me get you all hot and bothered? Oh, I get it. You must be jealous."

—well, almost everything. It’s the fact that binds you all. Yujin simply cannot keep her mouth shut.

"Sit," Wonyoung says pointedly, and gestures at the chair beside the bed. "You are going sit and watch."

"And now you." Wonyoung holds your chin between her thumb and fingers—her eyes ablaze with an emblematic glimmer, that ever present noblesse oblige, and she’s got her words curling her off tongue, arriving like a dagger to your throat, "show her how you really fuck."

If you’re not looking closely, it’d be reasonable to assume there’s something present that catalyzes the following series of events: the ease with which you wrestle the reins away from the girl in your lap, some shift or another in the balance of power. It’s nothing like that. Even in those occasions where you’ve got Wonyoung folded beneath your weight, her face smashed into the pillows, or your hand up around her throat, it’s only ever because she invites it. So when you’ve reached around her tiny waist, gotten your fingerprints all over her hips and found the gentle curves of her slender body easy to move, to lift, to fuck, to dominate, to conquer—yes, you’re chipping away at that facade every time you glide upward, deep into Wonyoung’s cunt, forcing her shallow and ragged sighs to grow more frantic, more agitated, more needy. No, it doesn’t take her long to reach the point where her cheeks are flushed and she’s chasing her breath. None of it changes a thing. The way Wonyoung sees it, you belong to her.

"You—are dangerous," she murmurs against your mouth, lips slanting into a half-smile, and her ankles lock behind your waist.

When you get your hand in her hair, raking your fingers through those dark, smooth locks—gently pull back on it—you are presented with her neck, the gulp that travels through the hollow of her throat when you push your cock deep into her cunt. She’s giving it up to you: all this beautiful porcelain skin simply begging for your lips. Oh, you’ll leave bruises, you’ll make marks, those sinful reminders you’ll later come back to.

"Yeah, yes, fuck," she gasps, several times. Her eyelashes flutter each time your cock fills her completely—when you pull out and pull her hips down hard on you again.

Something must hit the right spot, because her legs tense up around your waist. The first time she cums, she’s all huffs and sharp draws of air. Unlike Yujin, there’s no herald or warning, but it’s still obvious as day. And it comes in waves: first a little shudder, then another. Her back arches into you, face falling into the nook between your neck and shoulder, and she begins coming perfectly undone. She’s sweating, her cheeks are so red, and she can’t stop digging her nails into your back. Princess, you tease dangerously into her throat, and she’s gone, a total wreck.

You expect something, anything, from Yujin—there’s never been a better chance to goad and spur the girl practically melting to a puddle in your lap. But as you fuck through the torrid collapse of Wonyoung’s orgasm, the only thing you hear is that slight whimper from beside the bed. Even though her knees are closed, towel stuck between them, you see the hand she has playing between her thighs.

"Look at that," you start, still moving and gliding into the fucked mess of a lapful that is your girlfriend. "Yujin’s touching herself. You look so good getting fucked—look so fucking pretty on my cock, sweetheart, it’s driving her crazy. She can’t help herself."

Wonyoung just sighs, gets arms over your shoulders and her body even tighter against you.

"Do you think she’d like watching me fuck you from behind? Get your perfect mouth on that needy cunt of hers—what do you think of that princess? I bet she’d fucking lose it."

"And have her… watch you… fuck my ass," Wonyoung pants, and the sharp gasp that suddenly fills the room is priceless. The three of you might be inseparable, but there’s no lack of secrets to hide, stories to tell.

Though it’s a thread to follow for another time, because when you swing your legs off the bed, lift Wonyoung’s slender frame into your arms, get your hands under her thighs and her ass spilling through your fingers, and start fucking her—truly fucking her—she nearly cums again. There’s less distance to fall, certainly less composure to break, and as she starts to clench and tremor around your cock, she finds her voice rasping, begging, "please, I want it—make me cum again, please make me cum again."

It’s Wonyoung’s long legs wrapped perfectly around you. It’s the way she loses control of her breath, gasping as you fuck your length into the mind-numbing intensity of her little, sopping cunt. You wouldn’t trade it for anything, the fact that she’s practically royalty and she’s a fucking mess and she’s cumming all over your cock.

"Jesus," Yujin mutters, "You’re making her cream so fucking bad. She’s so close, fuck her harder, fuck our little princess like she deserves—pound her like she needs."

Wonyoung raises her face, eyes cast in yours, these beautiful pools of earthy gray, to a long silence; a real silence, without even the hint of a muttered curse or blather about your name—she seems completely overcome, overwhelmed, overindulged. There’s a tiny tug at a smile in her lips, and a volcanic rush of heat to her face. You recognize that look: the first you’d ever seen it was when she’d had first had your cock and simply could not believe it could ever feel that good, the way it could get her stomach smoldering and thoughts spinning. It’s half surprise. It’s half unadulterated lust. It’s all this want and need and it says without saying, fill me.

"That’s right," Yujin teases, "make her cum on your cock—"

"Yujin, why don’t you get on your knees for me, and have a taste," you offer, but you’re not really asking, hoisting Wonyoung’s exhausted, still-aching cunt off you enough for Yujin to obediently kneel in front of your cock and get her mouth all over you, licking and kissing Wonyoung’s slick right off your shaft.

As you draw yourself out of Wonyoung’s cunt—slip in seamlessly between Yujin’s lips—the girl suspended in your arms whines: that prospect of you not filling her so perfectly a reality too difficult to bear. She gasps. She shudders. And a sudden relief pours deluge-like through her ethereal visage when you knead fingers harshly into her ass, spread her legs wider over your elbows and place her back on your cock again. She’s so fucked and wet and needy that filling completely in one harsh motion barely even elicits more than wanton groan from her chest.

"Where are you—fuck, I," Wonyoung curses, drawing harsh breath and clenching down on you, onto the absence of your shape when you get your cock again into Yujin’s mouth. Her voice is still ragged and wrecked, but she holds tighter to you, asking, "Want you to—where are you going to—?"

In the back of Yujin’s throat if she’s not careful, is your first thought given the way her tongue flicks and flutters and teases the sensitive underbelly of your aching shaft. Deep in this cunt, follows logically right after that, gliding yourself back inside Wonyoung. If there was ever a lesson to be had in gluttony, in indulgence, this is probably it—and considering the third thought that grows quietly in the corner of your thoughts, you’re probably missing the mark.

"On your knees," you whisper against Wonyoung’s cheek, and she laughs silently to herself. Laughs because she knows exactly what you want. Because it’s hardly anything new, novel, or unique.

(For a brief moment, you consider the current circumstances; should probably consider donating to charity. Who could be so lucky? How often have you fucked both these girls, been the only man with the full pair? That you’re gripping a fist around your cock, stroking and pointing it at two open mouths, those wanting tongues—all doe-eyed and docile and they’re so fucking pretty and they’ll look pristine painted with your cum.)

Good lord, it’s a heavy handful: cum splattering all over Wonyoung’s face.

Never have you been one to play favorites; god only knows it’s a dangerous game, but that’s just how the ropes fly—into the valley of Wonyoung’s tongue, across a cheek, the bridge of her nose, she flinches as you get cum on her brow. Oh, she’s perfect, always has been, and you’ve got her marked and marred, debauched and debased with hot, creamy white like she’s never known another purpose.

"Fuck," you sputter, because you need to catch your breath.

There’s this heavy silence; you’re positively mesmerized. Yujin doesn’t even complain, just captures Wonyoung’s cum-covered face in her hands and brings her mouth to hers. Pulls at her lips with this hungry, consuming kiss until finally, lips smacking, she drags herself away—skates a finger across her cheek and slips more cum past Wonyoung’s lips.

"Did you say in your ass?" Yujin asks, brow twisting inquisitively over a glance that flicks up to you, and Wonyoung lets out this genuine laughter as she allows that kernel of shame to grow ever-so-slightly inside her.

"Yep."

Yujin laughs out loud, toothy grin come to bear. "You slut."

You are dozing, curled on your side, and your mind is supplying to you the loveliest dream—or perhaps a memory? It’s hard to tell, but it’s awfully vivid. Someone’s mouth on your own, warm… urgent; the feeling of arms wrapping around your neck, legs brushing about your waist, a familiar hand on your face. Some of it is fuzzy, unclear, as though the experience is coming to you through the fog of a rain-stained window, but then some of the details of the dream solidify, take shape, and you’re—

Is that lavender?

You blink, inhale sleepily, go to stretch, and that’s when everything starts to elucidate.

All around you is the pleasant smell of Wonyoung and Yujin; the feel of an arm around your waist; Yujin’s wavy curls tickling your nose; she’s got one leg hooked around yours and a thigh in your crotch in a way that feels awesome, feels too real to not be a dream, and—oh, wait a minute, that’s because it’s actually happening. Like, right now.

You’re snuggled up with the blankets on Wonyoung’s bed. With the two perfect forms on either side of you.

"Hey," says Yujin, half-sleepy, at half-volume to not wake up the sleeping beauty nuzzled up to your back. She grins because, lord, you are rock hard between your legs—something like an occupational hazard you promise—and she blinks her eyes slowly a few times as she gets her hand wrapped around you. It’s just one pump, it’s experimental, and she has a finger on her lips, whispering, "Shh, gotta be quiet."

The sun’s not quite trickling in through the blinds; you’ve probably all napped past dinner. As always, there’s a week ahead of you, and now you’re aching, sore, exhausted and you can’t refuse her even a bit. It’s a tale as old as well, not that old, but you figure that’s how your Sundays spend you.

#wonyoung smut #yujin smut #ive smut #kpop smut #male reader #kpop fanfic #ive yujin smut #ive wonyoung smut

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piratefishmama · 1 year ago

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Fake it ‘Till you make it | Part 15

If asked to describe how warm the Harrington house made him feel, Eddie would probably describe it as dipping his backside in an ice bath, balls, and all.

The Harrington Chalet… was like being wrapped up in a warm blanket on the comfiest of sofas, in front of a cosy fire, with a mug of just right hot cocoa placed in your hands, snuggled up against a broad chest, the kind of warmth that only comes from true comfort, a warmth that only comes from belonging.

It was all natural colours, warm browns lit by warm white lamplight. Where the Harrington house had white walls and dark tiled floors without a speck of dust to be seen, the chalet had natural wooden walls, and beautiful dark oak wood flooring, thick wooden beams running across the ceiling.

The only modern thing about it being the floor to ceiling windows that took up the far wall of the living room, which looked out towards the lake not far away. Every material used to build it aside from the glass windows, looked like it was sourced directly from its surroundings, like whatever they’d felled to make room for the chalet, was put into building it.

Eddie wanted to stay there.

He’d only set one foot into the main living room after lugging those bags from the car, bags now at his feet, guitar propped up against the wall, he’d only stopped a moment to take it all in, and decided there and then that this… this was where he wanted to be. It couldn’t be further from the place he’d grown up, yet he longed for it all the same.

And then he felt hands, flattened, sliding around his waist from his hip upwards beneath his shirt to settle atop his stomach, another around the other side, higher from his chest upwards across collar bone and lingering there, a hot breath on the other side of his neck, the warm, broad expanse of Steve Harrington’s chest against his back and his lips just lightly brushed against the side of his neck. If Steve wasn’t currently holding him up he might actually have crumpled.

How did people exist around Steve Harrington and not just spontaneously combust?

He felt aflame, Steve wrapped around him, holding him steady, thrown directly into the deep end even though he’d had hours upon hours to prepare himself for it, how did someone prepare to suddenly be at the very centre of Steve Harrington’s attention at the top of his game? Especially when that someone had never really experienced any game directed at them.

“Keep it in your pants Steven we haven’t even unpacked.” And there went all that tension, built with actions alone, gone with an exasperated comment from Steve’s mother as she shoved one of the heavier of her bags forwards with her foot.

“I cannot be held responsible for my actions when my boyfriend looks this beautiful.” Oh. He was expecting something juvenile, not something that was going to make his heart do a funny little flip flop. He’d never been called beautiful before.

He’d heard a few similar things in bars, but those things were always backed by lewd intent, genuinely having heard ‘you got a pretty mouth, boy’ on one such excursion. Never beautiful. Never something that gave him butterflies. Made him feel special.

“Yes, he’s very pretty, now let him go and go help your father with his bags. Eddie would you be a dear and help me with mine? This one is a little heavy.” He didn’t want Steve to let go, honestly he felt like his legs might actually give out if Steve let go so in the interest of his own balance, he just latched himself onto Steve’s arms to prevent him from letting go.

“Uhhhh… can we just, leave them in here for a bit while we uh… pick rooms? Because uhm… I don’t have a good excuse.” Steve snorted a laugh so close to his ear it actually made him laugh a little himself, he even got a nice little squeeze from Steve’s arms which felt lovely. “But I’d just really like if Steve didn’t move.”

Lynda just looked at them both with that knowing smile of hers, a single perfectly arched eyebrow raised in sly amusement. “Very well, the heavy ones stay here. Steven remember we will want to use the hot tub so do not pick that room.” And she was off after her husband, leaving the two heavier of her bags in the entryway to be moved later.

Eddie turned his head to look at Steve with a small curious frown in silent question “There’s a room on the first floor, it’s technically the guest master bedroom, it has a patio door that leads to the hot tub on the wrap around. Like directly to it, if we pick that room there’s a strong chance of us witnessing terrible horrible things. Nobody ever picks that room.” It was great if you were alone in the house, or if it was just you and a special someone, then you could pick it, but… other company would ultimately either see your business, or you’d see theirs.

Not a fun time.

“Sounds like you’ve had a terrible experience.”

“I repeat, terrible, horrible things. C’mon Bambi, let’s get settled in.”

“Where’d that come from?” He asked, just before Steve could let go, sure Steve’s arms relaxed a little in their grip, allowing Eddie to move a little, test his balance to find it was actually fine, that his legs hadn’t mysteriously transmuted into jello, he didn’t pull away through, instead he turned in Steve’s arms, just to look at him “The Bambi thing, where’d that come from?” It was the third time Steve had called him that, the first on the plane, second in the car… and now—

“Your eyes, man… those big beautiful brown eyes of yours, you’ve got eyes like Bambi. Has no-one ever… called you that before?” Steve stepped backwards, he removed his arms, instead placing his hands on Eddie’s arms, just holding him, looking at him, seeing him.

“Uh…no no, most I get is freak, fag, or… that I have a nice mouth?” Eddie didn’t expect the pained expression on his faux boyfriends face, no matter how brief it was. “It’s okay, like… you expect the insults I guess… we live in a small-minded shithole, and I never deny the rumours so it’s not like it’s not expected. And the places where it’s okay for us to be, well… they kind of expect a certain level of experience or they expect you to want them too when you go there an well…” Eddie didn’t have that experience.

An he didn’t feel very comfortable leaving it up to a total stranger to guide him through gaining experience. Especially with how dangerous that was right now.

Besides the danger though, what if it sucked? He didn’t want it to suck, why did that have to be the be all and end all of first queer sexual experiences? Why couldn’t it be good? Why couldn’t he have his toes sufficiently curled?

“I wish I knew what to say to make it okay...” Robin would know what to say. Steve had barely dipped his toes into what he enjoyed, into who he was beneath the performative nonsense of his past.

Steve was just… Steve, and Steve rarely really knew what to say.

“Don’t worry about it big boy, you calling me beautiful just made my year, I will treasure it always, it will feed my ego for years to come so you don’t have to say anything else. Now let’s go pick a room” Just to make sure Steve knew it was okay, Eddie leaned forward and planted a kiss atop those two cute moles on Steve’s cheek, grabbed his guitar case, then offered his other hand. “Wanna show me around?”

“Yeah…” Steve breathed, an almost dopey smile on his face as he took Eddie’s hand “yeah okay, let’s do that, rooms are this way, but first, uhm... Bambi's okay right?”

"Yeah, Stevie... Bambi's okay."

Part 17

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU

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disasterbuck · 5 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

tagged by @smilingbuckley @inell @spotsandsocks @loveyouanyway & @dangerpronebuddie 🥰

I've recently discovered an old wip of mine, eddie's online friend, and as I was reading through it I was having so much fun! So I've picked a few snippets from it to share 😊

It was Friday evening when Buck headed over to Eddie's house as usual and let himself in with his key. He found Eddie lying on the couch with his laptop balanced on his knees and the TV playing silently in the background.

"Hey," Buck said, shoving Eddie's feet out of the way so he could sit down – to which Eddie responded by putting his feet on Buck's lap.

Eddie hummed thoughtfully, tapping something on his laptop with two fingers before saying, "I kind of feel like lasagne, actually. But if that's gonna take too long-"

"No!" Buck practically threw Eddie's feet off his lap as he stood up. "Lasagne's great! I've perfected it, remember? I'll go get started."

GI: Yeah. But if nothing ever comes of this, wouldn't it be better if I never said anything?

Stranded: joe be real. ur on 30andquestioning because u want something to happen.

GI: Uugghhhhhh.

GI: Oh great. Guess who just let himself into my house with his key.

Stranded: ur hot best friend who is like a second dad to your son?

Stranded: was i right?

Stranded: i'm totally right. u wouldn't ignore me for anything less.

Stranded: don't forget u promised to tell me if u ever kiss him

"So you don't care if I go jump in the shower?" he asked.

"No, of course not," Buck said sincerely, looking back up from what he was doing. "Probably a good idea, anyway. Don't things spontaneously combust if you stand in a kitchen for too long?"

"Shut up," Eddie said, trying to smother a fond grin as he ducked out of the room and headed for the bathroom.

Buck's chuckle followed him down the hall as he went.

Stranded: we've been talking about ur hot best friend for a while now btw. i think we should give him an alias as well.

GI: HBF? Hot Best Friend?

Stranded: that's a terrible alias. u can do better than that.

GI: Alright fine. Give me a minute.

Stranded: whats his best feature? eyes? ass?

GI: Tits.

Tagging:

@dluoser @taketheplanspinitsideways @loudenthusiastic @wallywise @mxrcjqckspnchqsc

@i-am-married-to-my-fandom @therosesaredying @stillfuckingtired @classtrialguru @speggle

@awesome-igi @natnuszsstuff @olliesrants @crazyfangirlallert @delirium1995

@brah3280 @meanceclosetohell @anythingeverythingallofthetime @izzysbeans @sunflower-eddiediaz

@darkrose6578 @veronae-buddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @loveyouanyway @inell

@spicyrottingbrains @gnoeltop @idealuk @donationwayne @lemotmo

@smilingbuckley @realpersonwithrealfeelings @superlock-in-the-tardis @mjthe14thdoctor @strxwbereee

@idontknowwhatimdoing777 @ashleigh2658 @mari-lwyd-fannibal-blog @mineyneedsmoney @faithhopeandmisery

@spotsandsocks @unlifeira @tofanasmuse @pirrusstuff @buddiedaydreamer911

@littlevampireprincessuniverse @misshiss727 @i-put-the-star-in-bastard @hermioneindisguise @dangerpronebuddie

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed 💕

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie 911 #buck x eddie #evan buckley/eddie diaz #evan buckley #eddie diaz #usermoonsharky #wips #eddie's online friend wip #tagged #wip wednesday #disaster snippets

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notroosterbradshaw · 2 years ago

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fluff and smut! maybe where Rooster and reader are friends who are choosing to spend the holidays together (him because no family and reader because family sucks) and they realize they like each other. something about getting caught underneath the mistletoe (that Rooster put up btw this was a plan) and it evolves from there.

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble. it’s 3.2k of Rooster Christmas smut. I couldn’t get this out of my head so it got its own one-shot. the inspo hit different, so this is for you, darling nonny, whoever you are in the tumblr wilderness! xo

It had been the perfect Christmas Eve: drinks at The Hard Deck, Rooster on the keys drawing in a raucous crowd, late-night pizza collected on the way home and you found yourself cackling on the couch with Rooster and Phoenix around 2am. "I am so happy I decided not to go home."

"You are welcome to join our little orphan Christmas any time you like," Rooster handed you a wine glass with a wink. You sat on the couch in the living room, Natasha perching herself on the floor, the colourful flicker of the Christmas tree the only real thing illuminating the room.

"Thank you," you told him, your fingers grazing his and it was beyond the point you could avoid the flirt in your voice. You knew you'd made the right choice to stay. You'd been flirting with him all night, there had been enough wisecracks from everyone that you were cute together.

"You can cut the sexual tension with a knife," Hangman broadcasted at one point.

"Mistletoe, Rooster?" Natasha teased, finally taking her leave and heading for the guest bedroom you were supposed to share with her. "Merry Christmas, friends," she said, disappearing. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Or do," she teased and you both heard the door close.

And finally, it was just two of you. You loved Natasha, but if you didn’t find a way to get Rooster to yourself, you felt like you’d spontaneously combust. You had just enough liquid courage to hide the shyness in your smile and he had to admit, he was feeling a little bold too.

“Just us,” you said, stretching your legs, your sneakers lost on the way in and he reached for your calves, massaging them from the other end of the couch. “I have heard you for years at a piano, but I gotta say, the guitar is a surprise,” you noted the instrument in the corner.

“Love to play,” he admitted, with a shrug. “Sometimes the only way I can unwind from a long day.”

“The only way?” you dared ask.

His lip quirked. “I said sometimes.”

You hummed. “Can you play me something?”

He seemed surprised by this. “Okay,” he said a bit uncertainly. “Dealer’s choice though,” he said, popping up and crossing the room for his acoustic.

“Surprise me,” you allowed it with a smile, as he sat back down, pulling the guitar to him. His long fingers gently strummed and he shook his head, adjusting the tuning. When he seemed happy a moment later, he looked a little bashful. “I don’t generally play for intimate audiences like this.”

You grinned. “You don’t have to be embarrassed with me.”

He took a deep breath. “Well...” he started and laughed coyly. “Okay, okay. Be kind, I’m just learning this one,” he composed himself, strumming the first few chords and you couldn’t pick it, but the song was so familiar...

I would climb any mountain Sail across a stormy sea If that's what it takes me, baby To show you how much you mean to me

“Foreigner,” you covered your face with your hands. “I love this song,” you told him, scooting closer. His voice that you’d heard sing so many times had you enraptured. You could not be more attracted to him if he tried, and right now, he wasn’t having to do anything except be himself. He was so much more than just Rooster Bradshaw, the naval aviator. You kind of wished he was Bradley Bradshaw, under you as you came.

You couldn’t help yourself, and you may have sounded like nails on a blackboard, but you went for it anyway. He chuckled quietly as you joined in.

And I guess it's just the woman in you That brings out the man in me I know I can't help myself You're all in the world to me

Spying the mistletoe again later as he strummed some random chords, the words of the song long gone ."So, does it work?" You pulled yourself off the couch and wandered away as Rooster stopped playing and put his guitar out of reach. It was now or never, you realised.

"Does what work?" Rooster asked, a little confused.

"Does the mistletoe work?" you asked again, standing underneath it and pointing up casually.

Recognition crossed his face and he eased a slow smile. It was starting to become your favourite thing about him. The way the side of his mouth quirked was incredibly sexy. You wondered if he even knew he was doing it. Rooster stood to his full height, took a deep slug of his whiskey and approached you as you eased back against the doorframe.

"I fuckin' hope so," he said, taking the last step and he could touch you now, the mistletoe he put up for this purpose alone dangling precariously above you. "Wanna find out?"

"I really think we should," you told him, reaching for the white V-neck tee he wore, pulling him to you. You had dreamed of this moment for so long, you hoped and prayed it didn't fizzle and he could feel the sparks you were sure you were feeling between you all night.

His lips were remarkably soft, plump, and extremely kissable and you could swear, he was smiling against your lips as he closed the gap between your bodies and wrapped his arms around your waist, his strong hands pressing into your lower back. Your body felt perfect against his. You recalled afternoons on the beach gawking at the well-worked peaks and ridges now under your touch, something you never dreamed. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he said between breaths, tongues and touches.

“Me too,” you admitted.

“How drunk are you?” He asked softly.

“Pizza helped sober me up enough to know I really want this. Probably made me a bit more ballsy than usual.”

It appeared to be the answer he wanted. “Tired?”

“Could stay up all night if you want me to,” you told him as he revealed a dark chuckle, caressing your jaw and leading your mouth back to his. He hitched you into his arms and you could feel how hard he was. If only he knew how turned on you were with him… how turned you always were in his presence. He disregarded his successful ploy of planting the mistletoe and carried you to the couch, letting your body fall onto him as he collapsed back and you straddled his lap, taking control of the kiss you both refused to break. You adjusted your posture, rolling your hips forward over his straining cock. He groaned, head rolling back. “I want you, Rooster,” you whispered to him.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m aching here. Let me just savour your kiss a while longer, okay?” He licked his lips and claimed your mouth again. “We don’t need to rush.”

But you were desperate. You had planned this whole seduction act when he asked you to stay for Christmas. Tomorrow Hangman was putting on a spread and you knew if you didn’t tell Rooster how you felt right now, you weren’t sure if you’d have the courage again.

You’d been deeply in lust with Bradley Bradshaw for so long, your body ached for him, and you ground on him to let him now. He held your hips and helped you work against him. He was so confined to his jeans and asked if you could take them off.

Rooster sat back and gave a casual shrug, leaving the next moments to you. You reached for the belt, loosened his fly and he cursed, your delicate fingers anything but around his dick. “Raise your hips?” You asked quietly and he did as requested as you laced your fingers in the waistband of his jeans, dragging them to his knee as he raised his feet from the floor and you disregarded them altogether. “Better?” You asked.

He scoffed a laugh, noting his lack of modesty in his boxer briefs. “I suppose. You look so sexy. Do you want where this is going? I need to know where to stop because I’ve wanted this so long, I dunno if I can give you what you deserve as slow and sweet or just to fuck you hard and fast.”

Both seemed delicious to you and he patted his powerful thighs, a seat you greatly appreciated. You picked up the skirt of your dress and drifted onto his lap, so close now you could feel the outline of his cock against your clothed core. “I wanna ride you,” you told him. “I’ve wanted to for so long.”

“Can’t wait to feel you,” he was doing everything in his power to remain calm. He’d pleaded to hear your words for so long and it was better than he ever expected.

“Thought about it so many times,” you confided.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he sighed, brushing his hands through his mussed curls.

“Have you seen you?” you asked him, tracing a gnarly scar on his shoulder.

“Have you seen you?” he retorted. “You are so fuckin’ far outta my league. If I had half a hint you were into me, I would have made a move months... years ago.”

You gave him an easy smile. “So I guess that’s out.”

He laughed quietly. “Can’t take it back now,” he agreed, trying to remain calm. He really had no idea you felt like this, had such an urgency for him because if he knew, the politeness would have been over months ago. But, he figured, it was a nice full circle fucking near the Christmas tree on Christmas morning. It would be pretty hard to forget this day and moment.

First kiss, first fuck. December 25.

He was a simple man after all.

“Hey,” you smiled fondly at him. “You with me?”

He grinned, hitching you closer to him. “Yeah, I’m so fuckin’ with you.”

“Then show me.”

“Well, I’m enjoying you in charge, but I will give you anything you want,” he reasoned.

You were encouraged by his words and may have suddenly grown bashful as he giggled quietly. You reached for the hem on his tee and lifted it over his head. “Your body is in so much better than I give you credit for.”

He rolled his eyes. To be honest, he knew. He worked hard on it so at times like this, whoever was with him knew it too. “Come here,” he laughed quietly. “Lemme show you what I can do with it, kid,” and he kissed you again.

You appreciated his hands, they wear incredible. Strong, and everywhere. Tugging your hair, gripping your chin, pressing into the sides of your ribs, curling under your breasts, looking for the zip on the back of your dress -

You gave him a negative hum. “No zip,” you giggled.

“Well, ya need to give me a hand here, because I got no fucking clue,” he teased.

You gently pushed him back into the couch and stepped back, bunching the material in your palms and raising the soft garment over your head, letting it drop beside you.

“Oh,” he managed, mouth dry at the sight of you, naked except for a measly scrap of underwear. He reached for the whiskey before him and took a sip. As you moved back to him in only your undies, his eyes never left you. He offered you the glass that you finished and placed back on the table. “Holy shit, you’re beautiful. Lemme have you,” he urged, reaching his hands but you playfully hesitated. “If you’ll have me?” he looked at you with big puppy dog eyes.

That was new, you realised. You had to laugh as you dropped your undies to the floor and he eagerly removed his boxer briefs. His body hard, heavy and wanting. You held his face as his eyes fluttered closed to kiss you and you seated yourself again. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body against his. He could feel how wet you were - his inner thigh covered in your slick.

“Can I touch you?” he begged.

“Anywhere,” you granted, kissing across his chest and again, his hands took the lead. Strong and they massaged your hips, desperate to touch every searing part of your body. His hands groped your ass and he gasped as you beat him to the punch, your soft palm lopping around his long cock and massaging in a rhythm that was, well frankly, perfect.

“You beat me,” he joked, kissing you while you continued pumping him. “Shit,” he muttered.

“What?” you didn’t cease your actions as you kissed away his dismay.

“My condoms are in my room,” he muttered.

“You clean?” you asked as he nodded once. “It’s your lucky day, champ, I’m on birth control. It’s okay,” you reassured him.

“You sure?” he raised a concerned eyebrow.

“I’m a big girl, I make my own choices. And if you say you’re clean, I trust you.”

He nodded slowly, impressed with your moxie. “You keep getting hotter in my estimation. Each time I think I’ve got you figured out... I realise I don’t know a goddamn thing.”

“Well, I’ll let you know something for now.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Stop talking, start fucking,” you demanded. “Have you always been this chatty?” you teasingly accused.

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughed, guiding your eyes to his cock and you started again. “That’s perfect baby, but I don’t wanna cum in your pretty little hands.”

You nodded, adjusting your body closer to his and sunk down on his dick. It was a sweet stretch, Rooster’s clearly had something to strut about. You’d heard the rumours in passing about Rooster’s BDE and you could now comment on the affirmatory.

“That is...” your eyes rolled a little, bottoming out and adjusting to him inside you. “Amazing.”

“I know, baby,” he held your hips, watching intently where your bodies met and he waited keenly for you to move, but surprised him by kissing him and if it wasn’t the hottest thing, his tongue melding with yours. He appreciated the cockwarming, it was so personal and kind of sexy and when he least expected it, you started to slowly roll your hips, raising and falling along his cock. He struggled to keep his eyes open, wanting to see every single move you made, how your body flowed, how much you were enjoying yourself.

He desperately chewed his lower lip as you flicked your hair from your eyes, a little more intensity to your movements now and he was excited to move his hips to your rhythm, pushing his hips up and enjoying those oh-so-sexy moans that escaped those pretty lips you chewed to keep from calling out.

The next time you fuck, he vowed, Phoenix would not be in the next room.

“Yes, baby, that is amazing,” he murmured, gripping your hips and forcing you down on him.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” you told him and kissed him madly. “Touch me, Rooster, please,” you begged.

He released your hips and protectively wrapped an arm behind you. He’d never understand why men couldn’t find the clit. They didn’t deserve the gifts that came with it if they didn’t dedicate the devotion it required and deserved. You hissed as he slipped his middle finger on the sensitive and you chewed your fist.

“Fuckin’ wake her,” he encouraged as your moans got louder, his wet tongue tracing around your nipple, and you wrapped your arms around his head, begging him to continue what he was doing. “Christ, you’re so tight. You’re so close.”

“Wanna cum,” you managed, driving your hips further down and he hissed.

“Come on, baby. Lemme feel you,” he dared. “You are so so so,” he grunted, his hip speeding up and needing the friction. “Sooo fucking close.”

“Fuck,” you cried as Rooster’s hips pistoned roughly into you, and you saw stars. It was one of the most intense orgasms you’d had as you bit into his brawny shoulder to avoid yelling out. Rooster held both your hips, forcing you down on his, desperate for his release. “Do you want to finish another way?” you asked him sweetly, panting, spent. He raised an eyebrow and smiled, darkly. He gave a slow nod as you stood, legs a little shaky, and he bent you over, your hands gripping the end of the couch for life.

You knew this would be a rough ride.

He breathed, collecting himself, his strong hands caressing your back and the curve of your ass that you slowly wriggled back at him enticingly. He let out a raw laugh. “Yes baby, I see you,” he licked his lip, almost unbelieving this was how his night ended up. “I see you.”

He pumped himself a few times before gently pushing into you but there would be nothing sweet about it. He wanted to cum, and bonus if you did again after before, but he wouldn’t last long in this position. He teased you with his first few thrusts, savouring how wet and silky you felt but it only encouraged him. He clutched your hips and started to give his all, the sound of skin slapping harshly as you tried to keep your balance, his quads ripping into your ass and hamstrings, your unsteady legs faltering.

He was all around and surrounded you. Had he always been this big? Had he always been this strong?

The whimper you made when he slapped your ass was one of the sweetest, hottest sounds he’d ever heard. His hips snapped into you harshly as he started to come.

“God dammit,” he breathed, quickly pulling out and catching himself in his palm as he came white hot. “Holy shit,” he shuddered, lowering his chest to cover your back as you smiled and looked back, reaching and kissing him crudely. He held you tightly, kissing you with as much vigour, standing you and pulling you to face him. “You okay?” he stroked your cheek with his knuckle, a smile tugging at his lips. You were so blissfully fucked out and he’d never seen you more beautiful. You reached for his boxer briefs, realising he might want to tidy up. “Thanks.”

“Why did we wait so long for that?”

“I dunno,” he breathed with a laugh, tossing the underwear away. “C’mere,” he flopped onto the couch, and you snuggled into him. You tried to hide a small yawn, resting your forehead on his shoulder, bashfully. “All night?” he teased. You giggled into this golden skin.

“Might need a kip,” you admitted. He tenderly wrapped his arms around you and you trembled anyway.

“Sure you’re okay? Not sore?”

You shook your head. “Cold. Adrenaline waning.”

He kissed your temple and found his tee near his feet, latching on close enough to reach. “Ease back, baby,” he said quietly and lowered the shirt over your shoulders and moved back to lie down. “Get that kip, sweetheart.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, peppering hisses around his chest and he groaned. “Merry Christmas, Rooster.”

“Merry Christmas. Thank you for staying.”

“Thank you for planting the mistletoe,” you giggled as he grinned at him, sleep finding both of you quickly.

“Well, this was bound to happen. About time, losers,” Natasha whispered to herself with a small smile, looking at Rooster on his back and you snuggled into his chest in his tee from last night on the couch. A throw blanket covered any lack of modesty from her gaze as the lights from the tree zoned in and out. “And ew,” she tiptoed out, closing the door behind her.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

#rooster #rooster x reader #asks answered #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun smut #top gun fanfiction #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #rooster x oc #hello december playlist challenge #notroosterbradshaw

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thealogie · 1 year ago

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I fell in love with Micheal Sheen when I found out he gave away his OBE because he didn’t want to support the British Empire and it’s just been continuous since…if we don’t get Micheal Sheen Richard III soon I might actually spontaneously combust I mean that with 100% sincerity

Him giving back the OBE so he can be mean about the monarchy and David Tennant turning down the OBE to begin with is really like…Their Joint Slay. Tbh I refuse to get invested in actors as political figures/activists but it’s nice to know they’re not going to say something totally batshit terrible when I’m trying to listen to them dissect their characters in these long interviews

#it’s always dicey with the British like are they gonna be transphobic demons? but at least we’re all clear on that front

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crystalizedcryolite · 1 month ago

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Mk, first of all—Hiiiii! I absolutely looove your work. And also: ITS OCTOBER, CRYOLITE. WHERE IS THE NEW OGTDWV CHAPTER? I NEED MY GRAPEDUO AND LONLEY RED AND ALSO BLUE LEMONADE!! (You remember, this fanfic you haven’t updated yet? Don’t question why I have your official art saved in my photo library)

Secondly—can I just say your fan fictions are the best? Like, I was introduced to you when I read Rhapsody in Green, and then I saw and read this and now I’m more interested in superheroes than I ever was before.

Thirdly—How are you like; the only person I’ve come across who’s a writer and an artist? I feel like I’m the only one but then you exist?? What????

NUMERO QUATRO—Thank Alan I’m not the only one who headcannons Green as genderfluid. There isn’t enough Genderfluid Green in this world. Even though I disagree on the Purple being taller than Green, like… I’m sorry but short Purple calls to me. Something about Purple being the short responsible older one and Green being the tall flirty cringe younger one who dies from fall damage whilst trying to impress Purple. (If you know, you know.)

THRICE—I must eat your fanfics and run away.

Lasty—Could you draw some OGTDWV fanart while your writing? Or maybe just some snippets of like, writing or something? I dunno. It’s just trust me I understand how long chapters are to write but I need more content of this or I will spontaneously combust from lack of fluff. Or am I gonna have to reread Rhapsody in Green and Fading Frequencies again?

Holy sticks that was a lot. I have a lot to say. Sorry about me and my strangely introverted mouth. Well, anyway, Ty for reading!! Love you’re work and if you don’t update soon I have a 2318 PowerPoint presentation about how I’m going to find you and destroy you 😁 and also I would continue the fanfic instead. MMK THANKS BYEEEEEE

WOAHH HEY :DDD

Yes, I'm aware of the lack of OGTDWV updates, but school and burn out has been driving me nuts lately which is why it's been a while, BUT, I'm getting there! <3

AWWW- TYSMMM!!

I'm sure there's a lot of creators out there who are both writers AND artists. If I remember correctly, @/Purpur (if that's the right user) has a royal grapeduo au that has both art and fic, so there's that! But I definitely see what you mean.

Oh, I LOVE genderfluid Green! And I like to make Purple the taller one because- idkk?? The thought of Purple looking all tall and intimidating while still a villain and Green just simping in their shadow amused me too much, hehe

I can definitely do that, actually! Probably not now, but I can do that in the near future! (Don't worry, next chapter will be FILLED with grapeduo and fluff!)

PFFFF- that's enough motivation to keep writing. I'm only a few scenes short!! I just got to get it together!! /silly

Thanks for the long message! I don't normally get asks about my other works so this was great <3

#crystalizedcryolite #ogtdwv #Orange’s Guide to Dealing with Vigilantes

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lockheed-martin-unofficial · 25 days ago

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First time writing about Concorde and his pilot, I wanted to explain how they met.

Hope you guys like my goobers. This isn’t as long as it looks, it’s 600-something words, but there are just a lot of gaps. I tried to mimic the way Metroplex communicates to Windblade because I found it really cool.

Visit 1

Power running through my systems, waking me. Have I been

asleep

this whole time?

When I come to life, it startles you. It startles me, too.

Avionics at 3%.

You shouldn’t be allowed in here. Who are you? Did you do this, or did I?

Visit 2

(You’re back.) I didn’t expect you to be, but maybe I should have.

What now? What are you doing?

Fine. I’ll give you another sign of life, since you asked so nicely.

(To prove you aren’t crazy?)

A flicker of lights and gauges.

Don’t expect more

Please.

Visit 5

What are you trying to do? Maybe you long for this as much as me? You don’t know it can’t happen.

(I worry you will leave when you find out.)

It’s amusing, watching you work. I am fully aware you have no idea what you’re doing. Maybe you are too.

Thank you for the clean/trying to help.

Visit 7

You returned again today, the first time you have stayed past closing.

It’s raining today. I can feel some of it leak through the ceiling and onto me. The cold doesn’t bother me. It offers relaxation.

What about you?

Are you cold?

Avionics at 3%.

Perhaps I can heat the cabin for you if I try.

Visit 10

Manuals? You brought manuals? For me? (To help?)

I have more. I will leave them where you can find.

Am I as hopeful as you are?

Visit 11

You have been reading what I gifted you, I can tell. Your work is getting more and more intricate, but it is clear you are unfamiliar with what you are doing.

Sometimes I guide your hand through my inner workings, hoping to lead you to where you need to be.

I love that you talk to me. I sometimes wonder if you are talking to me, or if you’re talking to yourself. Do you know I can hear you?

Visit 25

I have been growing stronger. I can feel it again. Returning to me in waves.

Avionics at 39%.

Increasing.

Visit 36

How shall I thank you? You’ve never asked for it.

I wonder often if you sense my prescense here. I wonder if I hope you can.

Visit 50

One more overnight? I appreciate what you are (doing), but I wish you wouldn’t push yourself.

Visit ???

Curious. It didn’t feel like this before.

When I was

awake

Before.

Why does it feel different, being awake?

Avionics at 76%.

Increasing.

Visit 62

Avionics at 89%.

Able to power: heating

lights

radio

instruments

able to ignite engines(?)

I (?) am very much alive

I: F-BTSD

no. That’s not right.

No data?

There’s something to remember. Why can’t I remember?

There’s more than this, isn’t there?

More to me than meets the eye this.

Almost as if

could

just

—————————

“I think we’ve made good progress with the electrical stuff, I mean- even that’s far more than I ever thought was within my skill set.” The human peers into an engine, shining a flashlight.

“But I don’t know how I’d repair an Olympus.“

Silence. A faint clicking from the fuselage? She presses her ear against it.

“Let alone three more… what are you up to?”

A slight vibration from the aircraft made her stumble back immediately, her mind immediately wandering to the possibility that she had made a mistake with the wiring, and that the aircraft was in the process of spontaneously combusting because of it. The vibration quickly develops into clangs and the straining of metal, and before long the aircraft in front of her has started changing. It contorts and folds into shape with purpose, as if the process taking place before her has been designed rather than forced. Once everything clicks into place, she is left face to face with a humanlike- albeit very large- robot, a rearrangement of the airplane she had been repairing. It stares down at her, a drowsy confusion apparent in its bright yellow eyes.

And it looks just as startled by its own existence as she is.

#transformers #transformers fanfic #transformers oc #oc #original character #oc writing #writing #Concorde #Spif writes #is it still called a fic if it’s your oc

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elapsed-spiral · 1 year ago

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Pre-season 2 OFMD fic list

It's less than two weeks till we get our ships wrecked, so here's my (presumably) final pre-season 2 fic list. Have a read if you wanna pass the improbably long days before the season premieres!

This list got out of control so I added some handy symbols: 🎧 = podfic available 💜 = personal favourite ⭐ = fics you may have heard about? I don’t know, I don’t have a sense for this stuff.

Cool collaboration(s) you should read immediately:

🎧💜Work Experience: what if Ed went to meet Stede when the Revenge ran aground? And what if Ed became a member of Stede’s crew? And what if things kept escalating and… Canon AU. Mature. Co-written with Shearwater.

Really no excuse for how stupid these ones are:

Watch Out, Here I Come: what if Stede had been intentionally seducing Ed? Teen

Once More, With Feeling: what if Frenchie just fixed the season 1 finale fiasco because he’s the most capable guy on the ship? Teen

Talent Show: what if Ed was crass about his sexual preferences? Explicit

Capsize on Your Thighs: what if Ed rebounded onto Calico Jack at the end of season 1? Ed/CJ and Ed/Stede (but Ed/Stede is endgame, natch). Explicit

🎧💜Your Feedback is Important to Us: what if Stede started holding open cabin hours to allow the crew to air their grievances (but was also very repressed and horny over Ed)? Explicit

Oh no Ed’s working through gender/class stuff (but make it funny):

Finery: Ed gets to wear a dress, Stede spontaneously combusts. Explicit

Tell More Tales: Stede isn’t the only writer aboard the Revenge. Explicit

🎧💜Lovers and Madmen: Ed is hellbent on marrying Stede. Explici

🎧 Save the Date: Ed 'attends' a wedding. Unfortunately, so does Stede. Short S2 alternative reunion fic. Teen

AUs no-one asked for:

Novel/novella length

🎧💜Restructuring: modern AU where Stede loses his fortune before meeting Ed, but Ed’s still got more money than you can shake a fucking stick at. Only problem is, Stede lies and says he’s wealthy and Ed lies and says he isn’t. Like the show, it’s a romcom about trauma. Explicit

🎧💜⭐Baddy Zaddy: Bridget Jones’s Diary style, former porn star turned sex shop owner!Ed/still unfortunately landed gentry!Stede. Novel length modern AU. Explicit

💜⭐Prize Every Time: You’ve Got Mail-y secret pen pals but also business rivals. Novel length modern AU. Explicit

Conflict of Interest: lawyer!Stede/businessman!Ed (read: gangster). Modern AU. Explicit

Shorter uns

Intergalactic Tango: Space Waltz AU. Mature

🎧💜Trade Descriptions Act: bailiff!Ed/estate agent!Stede. Identity theft but make it meet cute. Modern AU. Teen

Your Favourite Song: locksmith!Ed/museum curator!Stede. Kinktober fill that somehow isn’t E rated. Modern AU. Teen

⭐Draft Letter to Restaurant Downstairs: Google Docs AU with a (slightly) interactive element. Modern SMAU. Teen

Blind Date: Stede and Jeffrey Fettering go on a blind date at Ed’s restaurant. I think you know where this is going. Modern AU. Explicit

Different Dimension: ficlet that crams four and a bit AUs into 850 words. Modern AU. Teen

Stuck Still: British holiday resort AU feat. events manager!Stede and bartender turned fairy!Ed (it makes sense in the story I swear). Modern AU. Explicit

💜On the Job: “kidnapping” meet cute (but not actually. Again, I swear it makes sense in the story I swear). Modern AU. Explicit

Starring Jason Statham: another weird meet cute, courtesy of Jack and the Fast and Furious franchise. Stede/Jack, Ed/Jack and Ed/Stede (Ed/Stede is once again end game). Modern AU. Teen

West Ham Is for Lovers: Lucius has a new job. It’s going fine. Completely, totally fine. A meet cute fic about meet cutes. Ed/Stede but also Lucius/Pete, Lucius/Fang, Lucius/Izzy and Lucius/Olu/Jim. Modern AU. Teen

💜Conventional: back in the 00s, Ed was in a very famous movie franchise. Nowadays, he does the convention circuit. Modern AU. Explicit

🎧💜Proud: Ed attends Pride to get free mum hugs, Stede attends Pride to give free dad hugs. Modern AU. Teen

KrakenAir: Stede and the crew are heading to Benidorm to celebrate Stede coming out. That is, if Stede’s all expenses spared KrakenAir flight ever departs. Modern SMAU. Teen

Very Poor, Becoming Good: aspiring Gentleman Backpacker Stede Bonnet is adventure bound when he meets fellow traveller Ed Teach at an empty hostel. Now if they could just find the owner… Modern AU. Explicit

💜Stolen by the Gentleman Thief: Ed is a lonely gay guy in his late forties whose favourite book is historical softcore porn. Luckily, there’s a weird meet cute about to happen. Modern AU. Explicit

Live Sex Show: Columnist Ed Teach recommends that Stede Bonnet shake up his monotonous life by doing something weird. Modern AU. Teen

💜Continue Making Progress: Kraken Driving School has a terrible new student. Luckily, Ed and Stede both have a lot to offer one another. Modern AU. Explicit

Oh no there’s been a containment breach (aka non-Blackbonnet fics):

💜We Do What We Like (and We Like What We Do): a brief history of Ed and Jack. Explicit (Ed/CJ)

Fealty: Stede and Izzy make one another even more miserable. Mature (Stede/Izzy)

💜Contra Proferentem: Ed is a high powered lawyer and Professor of Law at the University of Cambridge. Lucius is not a high powered lawyer but he is a lecturer of English Lit at the University of Cambridge. Stede own a very nice cafe. Explicit (platonic Ed/Lucius, Ed/Stede, no cheating involved)

#ofmd #ofmd fanfic #gentlebeard #gentlebeard fanfic #ed/stede #ed/stede fanfic #blackbonnet #blackbonnet fanfic #I just guess these tags genuinely no idea which people use

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cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme · 2 years ago

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Hellooo! How are you? I hope you are well, I would like to do a FGO commission, Headcannons for Morgan Le Fay, Baobhan Sith, Mélusine and Barghest in love with Reader (Master) I would really like to see this, please let me know if you can or not, it's ok if you can't , thank you 😊

Your Wish Is My Command!

(My first Fate request, I had a lot of fun with this! Especially Barghest, but that’s probably because she’s my favorite! Sorry if it’s shorter than you were expecting or if a lot of it doesn’t make sense. My allergies have been kicking my ass and I had to take one of those pills that knock you out harder than Mike Tyson when I wrote this!)

Morgan Le Fay

Morgan has the type of style that could only be defined as “Extravagantly Simplistic”

If you don’t understand what I mean by this just look at her dress.

This same style and poise carries over into the relationship you two share.

It doesn’t matter if it’s sleeping or fighting she always keeps a certain elegance about her no matter what.

But this doesn’t mean she’s cold, in fact it’s quite the opposite, she is a very warm hearted person especially with you.

All of that said, do be careful whenever you hear her reciting something under her breath in the Fae tongues, it could be anything from a curse to a shopping list, or both!

Morgan is definitely the small spoon, in pretty much everything when she’s with you but she doesn’t mind being the big spoon every now and then.

She’s probably very violently dismembered someone after they insulted you then asked if you wanted ice cream with a smile.

All in All Morgan is a very kind and giddy significant other unless you are put in the crosshairs of something which in that case… well just pray she doesn’t torture it for to long.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“OH! Hello there my spouse! I’m glad to see your wounds have healed!” a blood drenched Morgan happily exclaimed as she kicked a flayed arm into a magical fire.

You simply gazed at the fire and asked “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that was the guy who got the jump on me?” plainly, completely used to Morgan’s overprotective nature.

Morgan simply smiled and nodded

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Baobhan Sith

Baobhan’s style is simply extravagant, at least until she’s alone but I’ll circle around to that in a bit.

In a LOT of way’s she’s a brattier version of her mother.

Be warned though, she is stubborn and petty! Which is quite the combination!

She definitely strikes me as the type to spend her days off sitting in a too large T-Shirt and shorts eating Ice Cream while watching horror movies alone before she accidentally puts on a soap opera and gets sucked in.

She will not hesitate to roast someone so hard they spontaneously combust.

Baobhan is not someone who likes large gatherings of people so she much prefers quality time with just the two of you though she’d rather die before admitting it.

She Says she's a top, she’s not, she’s a sub, small spoon in everything she couldn’t be the big spoon if she tried.

Baobhan is probably the second most possessive person on this list.

That being said she’s probably the last one to jump to violence, wounds are temporary, the destruction Baobhan can unleash with her words is eternal.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You opened the door to the home that you and Baobhan shared where you immediately tripped over an ice cream carton which was followed by the sound of someone scrambling to change the channel on the TV.

When you walked into the living room you saw Baobhan surrounded by an army of Ice cream cartons with puffy red eye’s

“Were you crying?” You asked.

“nO!” Baobhan lied poorly

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Mélusine

Melusine’s style is quote: “Warm”

Sweaters, pants, jackets, the works.

She’s a very physical person, all about hugs, handholding, and staying together no matter what.

All of that said, she is the second quickest to violence on this list.

She will absolutely NUKE whatever tries to harm you.

Bug?

NUKED!

Rat?

NUKED!

Some random jackass?

NUKED!

Crippling loneliness?

ABSOLUTELY OBLITERATED!!!

Mélusine is the smolest of spoons.

That being said! She will ABSOLUTELY use her size and cute eyes against you!

You have had to stop her from destroying the world on more than one occasion, usually because of traffic.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“So when are you going to be home My Master? The show will be starting soon!” Mélusine asked energetically.

You swallowed deeply as you said “Ah… right about that…” before trailing off.

“Master, think VERY carefully about what you say next.” Mélusine coldly stated.

“I’m caught in traffic” You quickly exclaimed, ripping the bandaid off.

Silence was all you heard before a loud boom

“Mélusine nO-”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Barghest

Barghest’s Style is just cute clothes like sundresses, she also likes to wear earthy colors.

Barghest is pretty awkward, she’s not really sure how to hug or kiss you most of the time mostly because of her size but also because she genuinely loves you and is afraid that she’ll eat you.

Well I say kiss, she licks you but that’s not the point.

Strikes me as the type to just mope around unless the two of you are together or if she’s doing something which usually includes cooking large portions of food, exercising, or watching something that catches her attention which is usually whatever has a catchy tune and some form of well choreographed action.

She loves being the big spoon though she also enjoys being the small spoon on occasion though before the two of you could even get to that point you had to teach her how to cuddle.

Barghest gets jealous pretty easily so watch out for that because that’s usually when she gets possessive and when she gets possessive… Well, I'll let you imagine what happens next (Hint: It involves any form of cushioned space around human size and biting).

She loves cooking, even more so when you’re with her, though be warned her “Normal sized” Portions could feed five men, so you're just going to have to force yourself to eat it.

She’s willing to get into a fight if she has to but she prefers not to.

You constantly have a bite mark on your collar bone, she also licks you on the neck when asked why she does this she gets a possessive and hungry glint in her eyes like she’s daring someone to challenge her and says.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“I want every single man, woman, child, non-binary and agender person to know you are mine, Master!”

“Oh, okay!” You quietly squeaked out embarrassed.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

#barghest x reader #melusine x reader #Baobhan sith x reader #Morgan le fay x reader #fgo #Fate #fate grand order

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yanderecrazysie · 1 year ago

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ur yandere bakugou is so good can u continue it?/nf

Of course! (This was written around the time I released “Hate That I Love You”, so I assumed that was the oneshot you were referring to- I hope that’s the case >3<)

Title: Hate That I Love You (Part 2)

Pairings: Bakugou x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, swearing, physical harm towards reader

Summary: Hating you would be easier than what Bakugou feels.

Part 1: here

“And I hate how much I love you, girl

I can’t stand how much I need you

And I hate how much I love you, girl

But I just can’t let you go

But I hate that I love you so.”

-from “Hate That I Love You” by Rhianna

Bakugou couldn’t bring himself to throw away the Heroes Weekly magazine. Not when it had you featured on the cover and centerfold.

Of all things you could wear, why a swimsuit edition?

It doesn’t help that he’d taken to following you around like a lovestruck fanboy whenever you were on patrol and he wasn’t.

He wanted to show you how pissed off at you he was- hurt you like your words had hurt him.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

And maybe he could’ve been fine. He could’ve taken time to cool his head and get a hold on himself again.

If you hadn’t been assigned his sidekick for a full week.

He knew on the first day he wouldn’t make it long. He even considered calling out sick, because he sure felt sick. His stomach was in knots when he got close to you and he felt like he might throw up all over your iron-toed boots.

He had grown weak.

On your fourth patrol with him, he remembered what you had said about him not too long ago and decided to question you about it.

“I don’t remember saying that, sorry.”

You were so infuriating he wanted to strangle you right there and then. But he’d continue on, palms sweating and a blush constantly heating his cheeks, because he wouldn’t give in to these asinine feelings.

Bakugou’s a strange guy.

You couldn’t help but feel ashamed that he’d overheard you talking bad about him to other heroes. That was definitely not something you wanted to end up in the papers. You could see the headline now “Drama between two well-known heroes…”

There wasn’t any drama between you, though. He hated you equally as much as everyone else, if you could judge his glares and gruff orders correctly. Maybe a little more than that, since you had a feeling he didn’t approve of quirkless people trying to become heroes.

The muscular pro hero was storming away… in the wrong direction. Letting out an annoyed huff, you called out to him and waved him over. If the lightning wasn’t so dim, you probably could have seen the blush spreading up his cheeks at your call.

“We were asked to go north, remember?” You were impatient, yes, but it wouldn’t be anything ruder than what Bakugou had to say to you every time he opened his mouth.

“Fuck that, we’re going south.”

You threw your arms up in the air, exasperated, “And why the hell are we going to do that?”

He glared back at you with blazing red eyes. His gaze was so fierce you were a little afraid you might spontaneously combust.

“Fine, fine, we’ll go south. Geez…” You reluctantly followed the explosive hero, knowing full well he wouldn’t listen to you anyways. It was easier to pretend you had a say than fight him on it and lose.

You followed him a ways, chewing on your lip in boredom. There wasn’t anything down this way and, if you got called to help, you’d both have to rush extra fast north. This was stupid. He was stupid. Why did you agree to help his stupid agency?

“Ladies first,” Bakugou said, mockingly gesturing towards a dark alleyway. Confusion and light suspicion clouded your mind. Why was he suddenly telling you to go ahead? Was he going to ditch you? Was he actually scared to go down a silly alley?

“Fine,” you scoffed,squeezing by him into the narrow alleyway, listening for the sound of him following you. It didn’t come and you started to turn around to yell at him to hurry up!

One of Bakugou’s small grenades came skittering down, rolling across your feet. You barely had a second to recoil in surprise before blinding light shocked your vision and your ears began to ring.

A flash grenade? What the hell?

You wanted to yell at him, but the sound in your ears was making your head spin. And your vision literally hurt.

Something made contact with the back of your head and your vision went from white to black, Bakugou catching you before your legs buckled too much. He swung your body up and over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.

“Serves you right, lying to me,” he snorted, looking apprecaitively at your unconscious body.

Maybe he liked it better when you couldn’t talk back.

#yandere #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere x reader #yandere my hero academia #my hero academia #yandere bakugou #bakugou katsuki

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alwaysinstyle · 7 months ago

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A Long-Overdue RANT Girlies Appreciation Post

Tonight feels like the perfect night to tell you how much I love you all, and I apologize in advance for the length of this post.

~ Nina ~

My precious Pastel Woods outfit hype-woman who’s always ready to Style Carry™️ me onto the battle field, deceive the enemies with her iconic mermaid hair extensions and then KICK SOME ASS for the both of us. Darling, if your Pinterest board is any indication, you have me absolutely figured out and it is both hilarious and iconic. You are for real my Kenny-coded friend’s evil twin and I know without a doubt that you two would go full GTA mode on the NPC bad drivers to bring me an iced coffee (from ANYWHERE but the Bad Vibes Café). Speaking of which, I hoping you’re treating yourself to an iced chai, because you deserve it, you gorgeous and talented REAL author who I adore. Thanks for climbing up on stilts to give me a kiss on the cheek whenever I’m feeling down. Your constant kind words mean so much to me and yes, you did make me cry actual tears when you called me your IRL Superhero. Your dear Wal-Mart Taylor Swift sends all the love in the world.

~ Teri ~

Scary Teri, my favorite Ten Ferrets Stacked in a Trench Coat, my fellow road rage gal who loves screaming in the car as much as I do. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate you for biting the bullet and being the Cartman friend with whom I can make THE darkest jokes and tell THE darkest stories (and, of course, exchange graphic jump-scare surgery pics) without scaring you away. At the end of it all, you still tell me I’m vibrant and resilient, and that warms my heart more than I can express. Thank you for allaying my fears of becoming a Cynical Asshole (formal diagnosis as you all know). Thank you for making me feel strong when I feel weak. I look forward to many, many more unhinged conversations and overly analytic beta reads of your spectacular fics. I do, in fact, still expect to receive a package containing the buckets of tears I have harvested through Hourglass.

~ Riley ~

My dearest WARRIOR, sword-wielding protector Riley, co-sponsor of the Style Carry™️ who makes me spontaneously combust with everything she writes. We come together to form one joint Whump Deity as the Queen of Injury Fics and the Queen of Sickfics, and I love that everyone on ao3 GENUINELY lumps us together as one being. I don’t blame them since we really do be sharing one brain cell. It kicks ass being each other’s target audience because even with our most self-indulgent shit, mark my worms, the other WILL be absolutely blended. Whenever I’m feeling down, you’re ALWAYS locked and loaded with lizard pics and not to mention graphic illness and injury for my viewing pleasure. Your fics, bedtime stories and sneak peeks that are ALWAYS tacitly solicited bring me such an incredible amount of joy. I mean it. It was the sweet siren call of OJV that brought me to Tumblr in the first place. I am so glad to have come to the dark side and to have become a RANT girly, and I owe that all to you. You are the heart of RANT, dear. Without you we’re just ANT, and ants aren’t even that cool. Thank you so very much for being the ultimate hype gal, for being THE world’s best commenter, for reminding me to take care of Ye Olde Flesh Prison when I’m being terrible about it, and for worrying about me when I’m too stubborn to worry about myself. Your support means the world to me, my dude. Our chats and headcanon dumps have actually been the grounding force keeping me sane (ironically, since we’re so insane about Style). Keep kicking ass and avoiding creepy pizza men, okay? I love you so much and I love being NOT normal together.

@1moreoffkeyanthem @asteria7fics @boxwinebaddie

All three of you, and everyone else on this crazy website who makes me smile, THANK YOU.

#rant girlies #rant park #okay i’m crying move along everyone #ilysm #you slay my dudes

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year ago

Text

Cabin

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: Mike makes good on a promise to take you somewhere nice for the weekend.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff! Lots of it!

A/N: Ladies, gentlemen and persons of any and all other varieties: welcome to the first part of the part we've all been waiting for. (Yes. First part of that part. So is Mike getting laid yet? No. Is that his own fault? Unfortunately, yes.)

If you like this fic, please let me know 🥰 and reblog so that others may see it too! <3

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @mayloma @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @peyton-warren @livisss @ylva-syverson

Mike took over driving a while ago, and you still have absolutely no clue where you’re going, because he refuses to tell you. It looks like you’re headed for the same lake that the house of Will’s dad was on, but it doesn’t seem to be the same side of the lake you’re headed for. In your brain you curse Mike out for his love for surprises – you hate them. You barely know if what you packed is okay for the weekend, although you hope you won’t be needing too many clothes to begin with.

Eventually, you doze off, waking up just in time to see the last few turns before Mike pulls into a parking spot.

Tucked away safely in the forest surrounding the lake, there’s a cabin. It looks to be the perfect marriage between modern and classic, and far bigger than strictly necessary. Mike grabs your bag off the backseat, then his, and a secret third and fourth bag he had hidden away in the trunk of the car, while you just stand there in awe.

“We’re staying here?” you ask in disbelief as you look at the house in front of you. From where you’re standing, you can see the lake behind the house. It’s absolutely beautiful…

“The whole weekend,” Mike confirms, “I took Monday off, too, in case you wanted to stay an extra day.” He shrugs – it looks silly, with all the luggage he’s holding.

“I’m thinking ‘hell yeah’!” You take a few steps towards him and clumsily wrap an arm around him, planting a kiss on his cheek. When you try to take one of the bags, he shakes his head.

“It’s going to be princess treatment for you this whole weekend,” he says. Is it hot out here or is that just the spontaneous combustion of your ovaries you’re feeling? You follow Mike into the cabin; it’s as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside; exposed wood and large windows, comfy looking furniture with blankets draped over them… You’ll have no trouble getting comfortable in here, that’s for sure! With a loud thud, Mike drops the bags to the floor.

“Can I give you a quick tour?” he asks, reaching out a hand to you as an invitation – one you don’t hesitate to accept.

First, he shows you the kitchen. Roomy, modern, fully decked out, and probably the least interesting part of the house to you right now. The view is fantastic, though. Sliding doors open onto a deck which appears to provide plenty of privacy, and holds another table from which you have a phenomenal view of the lake.

“Wow,” is all you manage as you lean lightly on the railing. It doesn’t take long for Mikey’s head to pop up on your shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty great place,” he admits. “I’m lucky my parents let us come down for the weekend.” From the way he says it, you get the feeling that that’s not something they usually allow. “They wanted to go themselves, but I somehow managed to talk them out of it.”

“Groveling?”

“Lots of it. And begging. Some bribery may have been involved.” Mike puts a hand on your waist and pulls you in. “But we’re here, it’s a three-day weekend, we have four nights together in this place…” He kisses you softly. Now that he’s mentioned you will be spending four nights with him here, you feel something that you can probably most accurately describe as ‘mild panic’. “No distractions.” When his lips touch your neck, it sends shivers down your spine. “Just us.”

“Speaking of,” you blurt out, “how about we get it over with?” You turn around in his arms, giving him your most playful look. It doesn’t work very well because, quite frankly, you want to shoot yourself for suggesting it.

“No,” he says plainly, a devilish grin spreading on his face. “You’ve been coming for me about my lack of patience, I’m planning on proving to you exactly how patient I can be.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” You throw your arms around his neck. “Take me now.” The worst part is that you’re only half-joking.

“I don’t appreciate that you’re trying to reduce the first time we sleep together to ‘take me’,” he taunts. You can’t help but snort at the remark. Who does he think he is, all of a sudden? Then you remember the conversation you overheard at the lake. And yet…

“We almost did it in the backseat of your car,” you remind him. He doesn’t give a damn, and he promises you that tonight will be special.

“You’re so totally going to beg for it,” he whispers softly in your ear before planting a few more soft kisses in your neck. That alone is enough to make you whimper… God knows what else he’ll do. “Let me finish showing you the house.”

He gestures to the rest of the deck. Most of it is roofed, and in the corner there’s a covered hot tub that you’re dying to try.

“Of course, the hot tub is broken – just our luck, right?” Mike says as soon as he sees the expectant look on your face. “But there’s a pretty decent bathtub with jets – my dad doesn’t do things halfway – and the sauna works.” Bathtub? Sauna? You stare at Mike wide-eyed as he takes your hand and pulls you along, back inside.

“We even get the good bedroom.” He ushers you through a door on the ground floor. The view from the bedroom is absolutely stunning, and the room itself isn’t bad, either. A large canopy bed takes up most of the space, and on the floor… “Shit, sorry, Sweetcheeks. No shoes on that rug. I’m fairly sure it costs more than my tuition.” He pulls you back slightly. You laugh when he says it, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Your dad really doesn’t fuck around,” you say.

“Well… He used to. I can tell you all about that later. But first; let’s get settled here. You can try out the tub while I make dinner?” Wait, he’s going to cook for you?

“Maybe after a little twenty-minute… nap?” you suggest, but Mike shakes his head to let you know that at the very least he won’t be joining you – not yet. Truth be told, you are pretty tired. It hadn’t been that long a drive, but the excitement of not knowing where you were going had worn you out over the course of the week. Mike smiles when you tell him you really do want to lie down for a minute. Until you see the actual bathroom…

“That… is a very roomy shower,” you note, while unconsciously stepping closer to Mikey.

“God damn, Sweetcheeks, you are making this way too easy for me,” he laughs when he sees the look on your face. Right. You know that. But he’s so damn cute, and you really can’t help it. You’ve been going out with him for what? Two months? Another look around the bathroom should help you avoid his eyes. It’s really nice; that spacious walk-in shower isn’t the only thing attracting your attention. The previously discussed bathtub is also the stuff of your wildest dreams; from the looks of it, you’re not going to miss that hot tub too much… You also can’t help but notice that tub would easily fit two people.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join me?” you whine when Mike turns the water on. He just grins and shakes his head.

“Nope, you get some rest, babe. I’ll run you a bath,” he says with a smile, “you can soak while I get dinner sorted, and then after you can just chill while I take a shower, okay?”

A little while later you walk into the bathroom, which now smells of citrus and sandalwood. Mike’s eyes widen as he looks up at you. You didn’t have the confidence to appear completely naked, but the short lace bathrobe you’re wearing doesn’t leave much to the imagination. It’s neither surprising nor disappointing that Mike’s weakness is your body, and you let him rake his eyes over you for a minute, trying to work up the courage to drop the thing right in front of him.

It takes a while before you realize that it’s not so much that you don’t dare, but rather that you don’t want to. He’s going through all this trouble to make this weekend special, and all you’re trying to do is seduce him. Granted, it’s fucking annoying that nothing so far has worked, and it really does a number on your stupid self-esteem that he isn’t trying to jump your bones, but it’s so incredibly sweet… Besides, the look in his eyes right now tells you everything you need to know: He wants you.

“Alright…” Mike clears his throat. “You’re all set. Call me if you need anything, I’m going to get dinner started. I’ll come get you when it’s done, okay?” You reply with a nod, and Mike leaves the bathroom almost suspiciously quickly.

The bath is amazing; The water is just the right temperature, the jets are fantastic, and Mike even went through the trouble of lighting candles. You catch yourself just before you doze off – several times, actually – until after about half an hour, Mike shows up in the doorway.

“Hey baby,” he says softly as he steps into the room and sits on the edge of the bath, “dinner’s almost ready, so you gotta get out, okay?” You answer him with a disgruntled moan – you don’t want to get out. Even though the smell of the dinner Mike made reaches all the way to the bathroom and you have to admit it’s absolutely mouthwatering.

“Hey!” you complain when Mike turns off the jets and winks at you with a sly grin on his face. “No peeking!” New rule: If he’s not going to touch you, he doesn’t get to see you. It’s a rule he doesn’t seem happy about at all. Tough luck.

“Dinner smells great,” you muse when you walk into the room wearing that same lacy bathrobe. This time, however, you’re wearing your pajamas underneath it. It’s still enough to get him to look – honestly, you don’t wear satiny babydolls for no reason, so you might have just killed him if he hadn’t stared at you at least a little… “What is it?”

“Lasagna,” he replies, “and to be completely honest… It’s my mom’s sauce. But I helped, I swear!” There’s something adorable about the way he gets defensive about his cooking. Of course, as soon as you heard the word ‘lasagna’, you knew he couldn’t have whipped that up in under an hour from scratch, but why does he seem to think you’re going to get mad about that?

“And you consider that cheating?” you ask as you step towards him. He does that adorable thing again where he looks at his feet shyly while scratching the back of his head, and you’re fighting – yet another – surge of that feeling that screams ‘jump him’.

“Yeah? A little?” Oh God, you’re so mean! He looks sad and insecure and all you want to do is give him a hug…

“Mikey,” you say as you wrap your arms around him, “you brought me here and you ran me a bath, and you made me dinner, and you want our first time together to be special… You get all the brownie points, okay? You’re getting every single thing right.”

“I’m just… I’m really trying, okay?” He still averts his eyes and looks at his feet. Why?

“Mike, for fuck’s sake! Who hurt you?” you cry out, grabbing his face and turning it to yours. He still doesn’t look into your eyes, god dammit.

He takes a deep breath, then finally looks at you: “High school girlfriend. She was always on my case about how I needed to be better and try harder – but she only meant that when it came to her. So, she’d get pissed if I told her I couldn’t go out with her because I had homework, or if I…”

“Made a lasagna using your mom’s sauce because she somehow thought she deserved more of an effort?” you try, and from the look in Mike’s eyes you can tell that you are spot on with your guess.

“She broke up with me when I told her I got into college, but it wasn’t the one she went to at the time. She knew I wasn’t even applying there. It was a whole mess.” He shakes his head as he continues his reminiscing. “I still have her on Facebook – she’s pregnant with baby number four and looks pretty miserable in all of her pictures. But maybe I’m just projecting my emotions.” You stare at him for a second before both of you start laughing.

“Mike, you’re a great guy, and I’m absolutely nuts about you… I appreciate the effort, but seducing me with kittens already worked. I’m hooked. I’m yours.”

#mike hellraiser #mike hellraiser fic #mike (hellraiser)#hellraiser mike #mike (hellraiser) x reader #hellraiser mike x reader #mikey x reader #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters

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filthforfriends · 2 years ago

Text

Satin, Lace, and Other Pretty Things

Reviving this fic for part 4!

Thomas x fem reader

Word count: 3.6k

CW: Its kinky!!

Digging through what you affectionately referred to as your little box of horrors, was even more fun than you anticipated. You’d forgotten the full contents of your sex toy collection since you’d moved in with Thomas and stuffed it at the bottom of a closet. He had a barricade up that you were always testing the bounds of, trying to gently work around. Anal fingering? Fine (as long as you didn’t really talk about it). Rimming? Nope.

Thomas made up for this with orgasms galore, so you were far from bored. However, you also knew that wiping out a 10 inch neon green dick and balls with a suction cup at the base would just intimidate, and maybe also traumatize him. So you kept the more adventurous items in your collection tucked away in case they became appropriate later on. At the bottom of this innocuous looking plastic container, was your strap on harness. It was simple, because that's all you could afford when it came to quality leather and an adjustable o-ring.

You sat with your back to the wall, amongst phallices and vibrators spread out on the hardwood floor, running the black straps through your fingers. Tragically, this harness hadn’t gotten much use, and it was time to rectify that. After a few minutes of snapping dildos and o-rings in and out of place, your suspicions were confirmed: nothing here was small enough for Thomas’ comfort.

There’s no point in having skills without the tools to match, so you skimmed reviews of a few sex stores. After you’d determined which had the most extensive merchandise, came the question of where to put the harness. Obviously everything else was tucked away under two boxes of CD’s kept for sentimental reasons and your summer sandals. But should you leave the harness out so Thomas could get used to it?

Tossing it on the bed to feign casualness was the bold option, but maybe excessively so. Perhaps with your other toys in the night stand? To avoid giving him a heart attack, you fold it next to your lingerie in the dresser. The placement gives him the opportunity to close the drawer and pretend he’d seen nothing. Plus Thomas’ intentions were already nefarious if he was rooting around in your underwear drawer. A far better alternative to reaching for the lube and finding your hand tangled in a pegging harness. Thomas would be so full of excitement and anxiety that he’d simply spontaneously combust.

Getting him put back together this afternoon had been challenging enough. After a few minutes of cuddling, Thomas’ suggestion to shower together almost derailed all progress. He had been absolutely insistent that you cum too. Nevermind your explanation that his pleasure was reward enough.

“I’m not expecting an orgasam.”

“Well I have an expectation of myself that I will give you an orgasam,” he insisted.

“Thomas I can’t cum knowing I’m holding up Maneksin’s meeting with the biggest fashion brand in the world. Too much pressure!”

“Well if you’re struggling to cum, then I am holding up the Gucci fitting,” he emphasized. The argument was ridiculous, but so endearing that you laughed.

“You’re insufferable,” you huff, affectionately. “Alessandro looks like Jesus, I can’t disappoint Jesus this way.” You’re already giving in, letting Thomas tip your face towards his by holding your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Remember that I was an altar boy. I think he’ll make an exception.” Thomas kisses you softly at first, like an invitation.

“Are you sure?” Kiss. “Because -” Kiss. “Smiting and all.” Kiss. His mouth grows more passionate as he tries to shut you up. Thomas backs you around the bathroom door frame, into the bedroom. “Don’t wanna -” Kiss. “Risk it.”

“Please stop talking.”

“‘Kay,” you grin. No one can say you didn’t try. Just when you’ve settled on pissing off Sony, Gucci, God, and everyone, Thomas’ phone rings from the kitchen. He lets out a heavy, irritated sigh, smacking your ass for good measure before he bounds out of the room. Holding your breath to listen, you recognize his business tone.

“Is it Jesus?” you call, humor only loud enough to reach Thomas’ ears and not whomever he was talking to. When you enter the kitchen he’s leaning against the sink, smiling even as he speaks in a monotone.

“Alright, thanks.” He beckons with an outstretched hand, folding you into his side. You wrap your arms around his waist and eavesdrop, feeling snug and affectionate.

“-- important in the industry. Even taking you guys on was an act of good faith.” Thomas sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I know this, I know.”

“They had a dozen more high profile options. You’re here because of the aesthetics, it all serves a marketing purpose. So this meeting you need to be extra gracious.”

“When has my professionalism failed you?”

“What I’m saying is unless you hate it, don’t ask them to redesign. Smile say ‘it’s an honor to represent your brand.’ It’s about centering a modern interpretation –”

“Of Italian style,” Thomas droned, hitting his head against the cupboard dramatically.

“Supporting their vision. Being the vessel for their vision.”

“You’ve already prepped us on this.”

“Well it’s important enough that it bears reminding,” he snaps. “Considering you’re not in the car on your way right now, you do need to hear it.” Thomas grimaced and you stifled a giggle behind your hand. The rep from their talent management continued ranting and Thomas held the phone away from his ear.

“What the fuck does he want me to say?” he whisper-yells in exacerbation.

“Say that you’ll be the perfect brand ambassador.” He nods, sighing and giving a few more mindless affirmatives.

“I’ll be the perfect brand ambassador, I promise.”

“I won’t let anyone in the club puke on the Gucci clothes,” you add.

“And I won’t let any –” Thomas stops himself and ends up shaking with a silent chuckle that shows his gums. “Alright, I’ll leave right now. Thank you so much, Nico. Yeah, bye.” Once Thomas was out the door, you got to refocus your attention. Putting on some innocuous clothing, you drove to Peaches n’ Cream, an establishment not to be confused with an ice cream store. Sex stores intimidated most people, but you felt oddly comfortable. No retailer had better, more knowledgeable customer service. Not to mention shopping for your boyfriend was straightforward: just get the smallest size of everything.

“Baby, are you home?” You didn’t expect him to be, but wanted to check before casually dumping a dildo and butt plugs on the dining room table. Of course the house was empty, which gave you time to situate your new O-ring and strap on. The snaps were stiff, so it took a couple minutes and some of your sanity to get them pried open. However, great struggle reaps great rewards, and soon you are adjustinging the harness in the hallway mirror.

There was nothing quite like the rush of power from wearing a strap on and harness. You had all the equipment for any feasible activity at your disposal. Just fantasizing about the possibilities while wearing a cock was fun. Thomas undone and grabby, sweaty hands slipping off your hips while his brow furrowed. The attached dildo was comically small, and you almost felt silly posing in front of the mirror, but this wasn’t about your preferences and you’d never make your boyfriend feel that his capabilities are inadequate.

When he finally gets home, you’re doing skincare in the bathroom, trying to keep yourself conscious. If he takes off his boots it’ll rouse you again anyways, might as well be awake to greet him. Thomas pokes his head around the doorframe.

“Hey, sorry for keeping you up,” he winces.

“It happens, baby.”

“Okay, I’m gonna change.” Thomas blows you a kiss with a wink before disappearing down the hall, to the bedroom. When you follow behind not thirty seconds later, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, cock in hand.

“Well, isn’t this familiar,” you chuckle.

“Oops.” Thomas is bashful at getting caught, his motions slowing to a stop. “You were so tired, but I’ve been thinking about the underwear all day and now I’m just…I was fighting not to get hard the whole time.” You snort at how receptive he is, propping a couple pillows against the headboard so you can sit comfortably. As you climb onto the bed, Thomas desperately waits for direction. Submission came so naturally to him. He probably didn’t even realize that he was deferring power your way.

“Would you feel comfortable with me being part of this?”

“Jacking off?” he asks in confusion.

“Mhm, remember what I said this morning? Can I watch you practice?” He thinks about it, eyes cast downward.

“I don’t really feel like practicing right now,” he mumbles.

“What about sitting on my lap?” You try to make the request casually amidst all the internal screaming at the thought of his masturbating while seated on your thighs.

“Yeah, okay,”Thomas nods, face open. It’s clear he feels comfortable with this request in a way he didn’t with the other. Maybe he wasn’t ready for that vulnerability right now.

“Take off your bottoms so you’re comfortable and straddle.” Thomas wiggles out of his jeans and slides his boxers off. He stands next to the headboard. His physicality is cautious as he crawls onto the bed. You pat your thighs with one hand and use the other to beckon him forward. It's a position he’s likely never taken before, which is why Thomas is so awkward when he swings a leg over. In the process of shifting, he falls onto his hip, hand slipping on the comforter.

“Sit back on your heels and take a deep breath.�� While Thomas obeys you run your hands along his flank reassuringly. Finally, he begins to settle. He looks at you, his cock, his hands, and his shirt where it brushes the head of his shaft. He looks, but he doesn’t touch himself without prompting.

“Kitten, I need you to really listen for a moment.” You take Thomas’ face between your hands and his attention is singular. “I am so proud of you for saying no to me just now. I am beyond thrilled that you feel comfortable doing that. Thank you.” He nods wordlessly, shoulders hunched forward as he tries to make himself smaller. In Tommy’s dreamy, round eyes is a plea for direction.

“Lube, then you can touch yourself.” Thank god you’d been the one to discover this side of him, to teach him about it. Someone who didn’t love him as much as you did might not be so careful. Or they might judge him, shame him, and he’d stuff this beautiful, vulnerable part of him back down for good. While Thomas begins working his cock with a slick hand, you’re trying to quell the raging inferno that burned within. He looked so pretty stroking himself like this.

“You did the exact right thing, kitten. You did such a good job.” Nodding repeatedly, Tommy runs his forefinger and thumb over the just ridge of his cock frantically. His grip is so tight on the upstroke Thomas accidentally hurts himself and grunts in pain. In his widened eyes, you can see how much he wants to believe you, coupled with surprise at the strength of his own arousal.

“Be gentle with yourself, kitten,” you warn. His hand slows but the head of Thomas’ cock is already crimson. He pouts his bottom lip and screws his eyes shut while letting out a pitiful whine. Something has awoken inside Tommy and he was intimidated by it. You could feel that he wanted you to fix it even though he couldn’t put a name to it himself.

“Closer,” you encourage, pulling him in by his hips so Thomas was flush against you.

“But it's gonna get on your shirt,” he protests, transitioning into fucking his own fist.

“That’s okay! I can change my shirt, baby.” You get a hand in his hair, run it to the back of his neck while your other grips his glute. Tommy’s eyes flutter and he whines for something more. You wrap your arms around him, rubbing his back, kissing his chest, but his sounds just become more insistent.

“Kitten, you’re going to have to be patient while I learn how to take care of you.” He falls totally silent which wasn’t the goal at all. “No pretty kitty, keep making your sounds for me. Don’t deprive me of that.” Thomas switches to stroking his cock. His hand makes wet, intimate noises and you can smell the pre-cum. He’s even more vocal, moaning and whimpering for your benefit.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you, Tommy?” His chin trembles, but Thomas stays silent. “Answer me. Aren’t you such a good girl?”

“Mmm mhm,” his mouth falls open in pleasure. It was so rewarding to wrap Thomas in all these affirmations. You’d never praised someone more responsive. His cock is engorged to the point that you can see each vein contrasting with his flushed skin. He must be aching.

“Yes you are.” You manage to get his shirt off now that he’s stationary, which leaves his nipples available. You lean in slowly, so close that your warm exhales raise goosebumps on his skin. Thomas’ eyes open and he arches to get your mouth on him. In response you place a hand on the center of his chest, forcing him not to rush.

“Can I play with my pretty girl’s pretty nipples?”

“Yes!” he blurts, then looks surprised at the volume of his own voice. Testing his relationship to pain, you bite lightly instead of suck.

“Ah huh ah, fuck. Fucking fuck,” he cries out. Tommy’s expression isn’t one of discomfort or pleasure, it's something else. Overwhelm. He’s not ready to explore this, not by a mile. You shush him soothingly, switching to the other side of his blushing chest with just a kiss.

“C - can you help?” He’s using what you’re coming to recognize as Thomas’ little voice, his submissive voice.

“I’d love to take care of my kitten,” you purr. Tommy grabs your hand and thrusts it between his legs. He raises it up under his ball sack so you’re cradling the weight in your palm.

“Uh huh, mm,” he moans, while yanking his cock roughly. The sound is so pornographic that you can negligibly feel yourself get wetter from that one noise alone.

“Be gentle with yourself.” This time it's a demand without your usual warmth. Thomas starts paying attention to his whole length, not just abusing the tip.

“Good listening. Is this what my kitty needed?” You cup his sack snuggly in your palm. The teasing has the intended effect. Thomas grunts and strangles the comforter in his left hand.

“No, kitten, hold on to me.” You pull his hand by the wrist and bring it to your hip. “I’m going to take care of you.” Again, your tone is stern, not affectionate, but he’s so responsive. Thomas’ fingernails dig in through the silk fabric of your pajama bottoms. He leans closer and you can hear the guttural, feminine noises which are barely audible as they leave his parted lips. The fragile skin between his legs is so very soft, delicate even. It’s essentially no effort on your end, but the sensation is viscerally meaningful for Thomas.

Yet, even with your faces almost touching, he doesn’t go in for a kiss. Because kissing isn’t his heart’s desire. It’s hell not to pin just Tommy to the bed and fuck him for his own wellbeing. Submission is what he really needed. To supplement this urge, you lick and suckle his nipples with lots of spit, then take one under your free hand. Gently brushing your fingertips turns into twisting and pulling. Checking his face for discomfort, you find euphoria, but also tears. Thomas’ hips are twitching without rhythm and you can see him clawing at the edge of orgasam.

“Do you like the way my hand feels on your pussy? Such a good girl for asking me.” He cries out like he’s injured. Tommy is so conflicted, overwhelmed with all he’s trying to suppress and overwhelmed with how much he wants to get it all go and just be.

“Learning so quickly, kitten. You’re so smart and obedient already,” you coo. At the word obedient, Tommy lets out a sob and his face falls forward onto your shoulder. For his own safety, you get a solid hold on Tommy’s hair to protect his head. Without prompting, he slumps against you in total relinquishment of control. Only Thomas’ forearm moves, and at a frenzied pace. Without the headboard at your back this would just be a pile of limbs. Instead, you can use your grip as a vantage point to speak directly into his ear.

“You’re gonna cum with my hand on your pussy, pretty girl. Now.” Tommy chokes on a moan, but still manages to nod. “Such good listening. I’m so lucky that I got the perfect kitten.” He cums with a shout that startles Thomas himself. It's hysterical, primal, the release of a tension whose existence he was ignorant to until the moment of. You may not have been prepared for the volume, but the overall reaction is no surprise.

Catching most of his ejaculate in Thomas’ dirty makes the moment easier. You pull your boyfriend sideways, parting your legs so he can sit between, propping his head on your shoulder. The ends of his hair are sweaty under your hand.

“Why do I ah - always cr - cry,” he sobs.

“You don’t always cry baby.” Thomas never teared up when he was on top, but bottomng was rarely a casual experience for him. “Just when there's something you need the sex to help you release.”

“I don’t understand.” Except he did understand. He just wasn’t ready to face it which is a different thing entirely.

“Well what did it feel like to you?”

“Good. Calm, but intense. Easy but also…I don’t know.”

“Mhm,” you rock back and forth. “Were there any parts you didn’t like?” After a moment of thought, he shakes his head.

“I think when you compartmentalized your fetish, you also put away other parts of your sexuality, important parts.”

“Yeah that makes sense,” he sniffles. You reach over to the nightstand and put the tissue box between your knees. Then you just rock side to side while collecting your thoughts. During lovemaking, the risk of revealing something you hadn’t already approved caused Tommy to shut down out of fear. Perhaps that fetish wasn’t the only forbidden desire he harbored.

“For me, sex has always been easy between us. I want what you want and vice versa. There's no conflict because we’re very compatible.”

“Yeah, same.” Thomas wipes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Now you have to get from the shallow end to the deep end without him drowning.

“I think that compatibility comes from our…our energies being far apart on the sexuality spectrum. Opposites attract.”

“Uh huh.” He sounds unsure. Totally sensical, given the ramblings he was being asked to decipher.

“Basically you like taking suggestions and I like being listened to, right?”

“Okay, yes, I agree.” He nods and you examine his body language. Thomas’ hands are relaxed in his lap which is a promising sign.

“It's been a struggle to get you to advocate for yourself in bed.” Fingers crossed. “ Is that because you like doing what I say, independently of enjoying the actual activity?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

“What if it's something you really, really like? Wouldn’t doing the sex act be better than obeying?” His reaction to the word “obey” is very telling. His cock jumps even as it's becoming flaccid.

“I…then I have to direct the whole thing and sometimes that makes me anxious and I can’t enjoy it. Not always!” he desperately clarifies. “Just…sometimes.”

“So it’d be fair to say that being in charge is often a turn off for you?”

“Yeah.” His chest was still rising and falling at a semi-normal rate, so you settle on at least attempting to push him.

“Then what would you say is a turn on?”

“It being you.” He’d actually managed to say even less than you thought was possible.

“Me being the one in control and you being submissive?” It’s the first time you’ve used the s-word. Thomas holds his breath so you stroke his head again, twisting his damp, loose curls around your fingers.

“Yes,” he whispers. “But I know that, as a man, I should want to be dominant.” There it was.

“So as a woman, I should want to be submissive?” That one visibly stumps him. Thomas bites his lip in through and stares at the far wall with a concentrated expression.

“Well, no. You shouldn’t have to…I mean, I don’t care. I do care! I like things how they are.” He slides off your lap so your faces are level, but keeps his legs across your thighs.

“And what if I told you that your submissiveness is the sexist thing about you?” A wide-eyed Thomas goes through a dozen shades of red until even his ears are the color of an overripe tomato. “Have you ever considered that?” He shakes his head slowly, focus falling to his hands. “Hey.” You raise his chin by your pointer finger, then tuck a sweaty lock of hair behind his ear. Carefully, he drags his gaze up to meet yours.

“I already love the parts of you I haven’t met yet. So when you’re ready, I’m ready.”

Notes: I have my blog back after two months of my taglist and almost every social function not working! There might be a couple of fics you've missed out on because you weren't notified and my posts also weren't showing up in tags (crossing my mf finger it works now) I'm SO happy to FINALLY have you back.

-XOXO Eden

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