#it fucks you up!!! hearing that it fucks you up!!!!!

[tojisbbg]

gang baby

❝she told you she celibate, but she told me i can nail her shit!❞

♡ sylus, caleb, rafayel, zayne, xavier ♡

sypnosis: you're just a girl. yeah, you can't decide between five hot LI's presented to you in the popular otome game, love and deepspace, but that's okay. who said you can't have them all? literally.

wc: 11k (lots of smut beware)

a/n: valentines day special!! guys, don't question it, ok? i wrote this with my whole pussy. ok bai. (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

content: all lads LI's x fem!reader (yes, you read right), gangbang, slight plot, reader gets transported in lads universe, smut (no details, find out hehe), all acts are consensual, not edited. disclaimer: not based off tomorrow's catch-22!!

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"fuck!" you yelled out in frustration, chucking your phone off your bed as the poor device fell on the floor with a loud thud. you could hear your best friend giggling from your laptop, making you shoot her a sharp glare.

"shut up." you sneer, but it only fueled her laughter more.

"damn, infold really hates you, bro." she pokes further at your miserable failure, making your shoulders slump in defeat as you grumble.

"i can't believe it. i've been grinding for two months straight to save up fifteen thousand diamonds for the valentines day banner! i was sure i'd pull them all, and you're telling me i only got two out of the five?? this is a fucking joke." you ranted, making your friend hum as she understood your anger.

"yeah, i'd be mad as hell too. but hey, at least you got sylus and caleb. just watch the rest on twitter or something." your best friend tried to comfort you, but it only made you pout.

"but i want them all." you sulked, making her roll her eyes.

"you're such a whore." she sighed, making you grin.

"duh, why choose one when i can have them all." you nonchalantly responded.

"yeah, yeah, forgot you had no shame." she shook her head in disbelief.

"man, i don't know what else to do. i literally milked the game dry, there's no other way i can get more diamonds for more pulls before the event ends. this is so unfair." you whined, fingers tangled in your hair.

"you can always-"

"no. i'm not giving those greedy hoes my money." you cut off her suggestion, your tone stern.

you were a poor college student who worked part-time at a stationery supply store (living the aesthetic life while crying over classes and fictional men); money's tight, and you're not about to spend hundreds on this because you know it'd become a horrible habit sooner or later.

despite being broke, your spending habits were outrageous.

"yeah girl, then i don't know what to tell ya. i'm chilling with my rafayel card. oh shit, it's almost three in the morning, bitch. we have class tomorrow, go to sleep." she yawned tiredly.

"you're leaving me just like that? after i went through so much pain and trauma? is this how deep our ten years of friendship runs? just say you hate me and want me to die a slow painful death." you dramatically rambled, making your best friend rub her temple in faux annoyance as she groaned at your stupidity.

"when i see you tomorrow, i'm gonna slap you. goodnight, hoe." with that, she hung up.

you closed the lid of your laptop and placed it on charge, stretching before standing up to go pick up your phone. you noticed the small cracks on your screen as you walked back to your bed.

you unlocked your phone, noticing how the lads server kicked you out. you exited the app, clicking on it again as you were met with caleb's face.

so l-long for longe-ge-... before fa-fa...dust

so long for-for-.... fading-fa..-dus..

so-so...lo...ng-..fading...

your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the app glitch horribly, the audio was choppy and produced crackling noises. the graphics were disoriented and there was a pop-up notification saying you needed to upgrade your memory.

you could feel your irritation rise once again, getting tired of this shit as you decided to deal with it tomorrow or something. however, every time you tried to exit the app, it wouldn't let you.

your phone literally froze.

"great. just fucking great." you sarcastically murmured.

not only did you not get the limited cards you wanted, you were broke (in the real world and in lads), you're screwed for your morning classes and your phone is currently on its last breath.

also, you were hungry as fuck right now, craving for some five guys.

"fuck this." you sighed in defeat, settling your phone next to you before laying down to sleep. you figured that eventually your phone would turn off once the battery died, so until then you just turned to the other side and ignored the device.

soon enough, fatigue took over your body as you were slipping away into a deep slumber.

unaware, your phone screen turned off momentarily, before flickering on once again as the screen crackled and glitched before stopping.

data retrieval complete, memory upgrade...

successful.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

you stirred in your sleep, eyebrows pinched together as you felt a cold breeze run across the bare skin of your thighs and arms.

nonetheless, you don't remember leaving your window open, it was the middle of february. you groaned, eyes still shut tight as your hand reached down, trying to locate your blanket.

"comfortable, sweetie?" you heard an oddly familiar, deep voice suddenly speak.

did someone break into your house? and why the hell did your mattress feel so hard and cold?

your eyes shot open, adjusting your blurry vision as you realized you were not in your bedroom. you were laying on the cold, dirt ground and it made you panic.

you helplessly sat up and noticed the long pair of legs in front of your body, making you look up as you saw the towering figure of a man. the night sky was dark, making it hard for you to make out his face.

"who are you? and what the hell am i doing out here?" you asked, but your voice barely came out as a whisper.

a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, before he bent down to come eye-level with you. as soon as you met the bright, ruby red orbs of his foxy eyes; your jaw dropped in horror.

no. fucking. way.

"shouldn't i be the one asking you those questions, sweetie?" sylus smirked, head tilting as he keenly watched your facial expressions.

"you're not real. i'm dreaming, yeah, just a dream that feels too real." you blurt out, a breathy laugh scratching your dry throat, trying to calm yourself from freaking out as your heart leaped to your chest when he directly looked at you.

"a dream, you say? hmph, you're a strange one." he shook his head before grabbing your wrist, bringing your palm to his lips. the warmth of his rough hands, which were definitely double the size of yours, made you shiver due to the contrast of your cold ones. he bit the side of your palm before gently sucking on it, making you jolt from the sudden sensation.

sylus watched you with pure amusement glinting in his eyes.

"you're like a scared little kitten, so expressive." sylus commented, making you swallow harshly.

well, this definitely was not a dream, thanks to sylus's help for that confirmation.

but the question was.... how the hell did you end up here?

suddenly, there was rustling in the distance, making his eyes twitch as he became alert. sylus slightly shifted closer to you, now scanning the area for the intruder.

"miss bodyguard?" with a dramatic gasp, you heard rushed footsteps approach you. it was hard to miss the hues of indigo, pinks and blues in his eyes along with the striking dusky purple hair that was a little more visible thanks to the moonlight.

"r...rafayel?" it felt odd saying his name out loud, it almost made you feel a little schizophrenic.

just a bit.

"duh, who else would it be? what are you doing here in the N-109 zone at this hour. also, the hell are you wearing? so not creative or fashionable." rafayel questioned, of course, not forgetting to throw in his snarky little insults along with it.

"what's wrong with what i'm wearing?" you glared at him.

"it's the middle of february and you're dressed like it's a hundred degrees outside." the lemurian smirked down at you.

you cursed at yourself for going to bed in shorts and a thin shirt. well, to be fair, it's a cute snoopy set. also, who in the hell could've predicted this to happen!?

"she wanted to have a little sleepover with the wanderers that lurk around here." the dragon teased, making your face heat up.

"i did not." you mumbled under your breath.

"uh-huh, you're not really in the position to defend that claim." rafayel egged further.

"whatever, what are you doing here? you usually don't go out of your way to come to the N-109 zone." you tried to change the subject, remembering from his anecdotes that he usually has third party people as his "networks" to gain intel.

"just some business you shouldn't sweat your pretty little head over, cutie. but, you know, we should really talk about what your business is with the leader of onychinus." he cocked an eyebrow, his eyes flickering between you and sylus.

"it's nothing, uh, i don't even know him." you chuckled nervously, making sylus look at you with a sharp look.

"is that so, kitten? you wound me. and here i thought we had something more than just... acquaintances. i guess those nights of naughty touches, kisses and naked glances mean nothing to you, right?" sylus shamelessly bullet-pointed, his tone dropping an octave lower as your cheeks grew warm.

on the other hand, rafayel's eyes widened at the revelation.

"you fucked the leader of onychinus?! woah, woah, woah, pause. what about everything that happened between us?? we had sex in my bathtub, the hotel and don't forget-" he was flabbergasted, only to be cut off by sylus.

"you were messing around with this half-baked fish, sweetie? i'm disappointed in your taste. if you planned on two-timing, you could've selected a better opponent for me. this is just... offensive." he snarked, his red eyes beaming with irritation as he looked at rafayel, who's face grew dark from his brash words.

"what did you say to me, you fucking crow? half-baked fish? i'm the god of tides, a majestic lemurian. you dare to speak to me like that?" rafayel's voice became husky, languid footsteps towards the other man.

"h-hey, hey, let's all calm down. there's a very logical and reasonable explanation, i swear." you tried to mediate between them, but it didn't seem like they planned on giving a flying shit about what you had to say any time soon.

"y/n? there you are. i've been blowin' up your phone for hours. thought a wanderer got to you and i got worried about how i'd pay the rent by myself." xavier walked from the shadows, his words laced with a gentle joke as he approached you and the other two men.

holy fuck, this was not good.

"and who are you guys?" the ash-blonde male asked, eyes narrowing before looking down at you.

"xavier." you meeked, not even knowing what to say anymore.

"why are you seeing other guys, y/n? am i not enough? you know i don't like it when you hide things from me. i thought you learned your lesson after i punished you for choosing lumiere over me." xavier now towered over you, his voice laced with envy as you gulped.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

"xavier, i promise i can explain. this is all just a-" you tried to somehow pull an excuse out of your ass, but your brain was fogging up.

"pipsqueak?"

"y/n? what an odd place to be at during such an odd hour, you left your patient copy in my office."

two other figures emerged from the sides, making your eyes close in disbelief, wishing that you could somehow disappear from the face of earth right now.

why the fuck are they all here.

at the same time.

"you've got to be kidding me." you covered your face with the palm of your hands.

"caleb? i thought you were dead." zayne spoke in a monotone, glancing at his childhood friend.

"wow, i missed you too, zayne." caleb rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his words. however, the small spark of tension barely lasted before caleb looked back at you.

"care to explain why you're in such a dangerous zone at this time? you know you can't hide from me, pipsqueak. what connections do you have here? who are you seeing? was locking you up in the attic not enough for you?" caleb lectured, his voice gruff before zayne decided to add on to the fire.

"you're utterly reckless, your heart condition isn't getting any better." zayned pushed the frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

all five on them now circled you, bickering and arguing with each other along with bombarding you with questions. you balled your fists in annoyance and frustration.

"shut up! oh my fucking god, i don't know, okay?! i don't know how i ended up here, so stop asking me. fuckin' hell, i can't even get a moment to breathe or think because all of you little shits won't shut up for a second!" you snapped as you stood up, making all of them look at you with surprised eyes.

you gulped, feeling a little cornered as you have five insanely tall, broad and buff men look down at you; like helpless prey.

caleb was the first person to break the momentary silence, grabbing your arm to pull you towards him.

"let's go home, pipsqueak. i'll cook your favorite tonight since it's valentines day." he smiled, only for your other arm to be tugged backwards as you yelped.

"home? her home is with me, we're roommates. i think you got the wrong person." xavier calmly replied, but his words were laced with venom.

"she's going nowhere with either of you. she's my bodyguard and i need her to come back with me to my studio. y'know, in case some scary wanderers are lurkin' around." rafayel pushed xavier to the side, intertwining his fingers with yours before giving you a charming smile as he attempted to walk off; only to bump into someone.

"i don't think so. she's been out here for so long, i might need to give her an exam to make sure she's okay." zayne cleared his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose.

you felt like you were the rope being tugged in tug-of-war. sylus deeply sighed at the situation and before you knew it; in one smooth swoop you were now in the strong arms of the leader of onychinus.

"what fools. she's in the N-109 zone for a reason. for me, of course. come on, sweetie, you must be freezing. let's go inside." sylus look down at you with a gentle smile playing on his lips.

you groaned, squirming out of his hold as sylus let you, watching you get back on your feet.

"this is ridiculous! you all are acting like a bunch of kids, fighting over me like i'm some kind of toy. none of you own me!" you stood your ground.

"fine, then why don't you choose?" sylus scoffed, crossing his arms. you grew quiet, looking at each of them before averting your gaze to the ground.

"i... i can't." you whispered.

"you can't? or you don't want to?" xavier snickered.

"you're the one who's been toying with us. we deserve an explanation, no?" rafayel grinned.

"explanations are too time-consuming, actions speak louder than words. so, how are you gonna fix it, y/n?" hazel eyes peered at you with intensity through the glass lenses.

oh, you're so fucked.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

everything happened so fast, you didn't know who swiped your panties off or unclasped your bra.

you felt betrayed at how they evilly plotted against you, telepathically agreeing to punish you for your unfaithfulness. what happened to hating each other? so, here you were now, splayed on the soft mattress in sylus's room; like art on a display.

they drank in the sight of you, perky tits spilled out as the smooth glaze of your skin glimmered under the dim lighting of the room. their eyes were full of hunger, eye-fucking you as you grew shy under their intense gazes.

"s-stop staring at me like that." you whined, looking away as your face reddened at the attention.

you felt someone stroking your thighs, making you shudder as you looked in front of you, seeing caleb gripping the supple fat of your plush thighs.

"never knew you were such a dirty little slut, princess. all these years of knowing you... and to think you were capable of this? how naughty." caleb smirked, prying your thighs open as you gasped.

but, your lips would soon be sealed with zaynes as he kissed you roughly. his pillow-soft lips molded with yours, the smacking sound of saliva filled the room. a big, veiny hand came up to cup your cheek gently as he slid his tongue inside your mouth, licking the wet muscle before sucking it.

caleb used his thumb to spread your soaked folds apart, watching the lewd string of your arousal connect them both. your clit was puffy from being neglected, a sheen of wetness covering your cunt; making his mouth salivate. he leaned down, mouth hovering above your pussy.

"fuckin' beautiful." caleb swore under his breath, the warm air fanning above your aching cunt, giving you goosebumps. you moaned into zayne's mouth, feeling caleb's warm and wet tongue lick a fat stripe up your cunt.

"hope you didn't forget about us, cutie." rafayel pouted, licking at your nipple before wrapping his lips on the swollen pebble. sylus soon followed his footsteps, greedily kneading at your other tit before leaning down and pressing open-mouthed kisses on the soft mound.

meanwhile, xavier's lips were buried in your neck as he punished you with licks and bites on the expanse of your unmarked flesh.

"ngh~ xavier!" you whimpered against zayne's lips, the doctor now nibbling on your bottom lip.

he licked the side of your neck before softly clamping his teeth down, suckling and leaving a purplish bruise. as a soothing apology, xavier kitten-licked the fresh mark before moving down to your collarbone with wet kisses.

caleb continued to lap at your wet cunt, his saliva mixed with your juices dripped down his chin. the tip of his tongue circled your clit before suckling on it, making your legs tremble as a moan ripped out of your throat as you tried to close your legs.

"f-fuck.. hnghh.." you cried out, feeling him plant his palms on your inner thighs, forcing you to keep them open. caleb peered up at you from between your thighs, amethyst eyes glaring at you as his lips were glossy.

"don't interrupt me when i'm eating." he huskily spoke before slapping your dripping pussy, producing a wet 'pap!' noise. you yelped because of your increased sensitivity, not having enough time to recover before he dove back in.

with one last wet smooch, zayne released your lips before crawling down right next to his childhood friend. they exchanged a quick look, a mischievous smirk dancing on the colonel's lips.

"oh? was my tongue not enough for you, princess?" he lowly spoke, pinching your inner thigh as you bit your bottom lips.

"ahh... need z-zayne to help... please?" you begged, making him scoff. zayne couldn't help but grin with pride, your words stroking his ego a little.

"you heard her, move." zayne pushed caleb a little to squeeze himself between your legs, taking off his glasses before throwing them to the side. caleb, utterly betrayed, seethed with jealousy.

"so that's how you wanna play? fine." caleb accepted it as a challenge, but of course, he won't let neither of you get the last word.

zayne ignored his little childish outburst, digging in as his scarred hands rested on your lower stomach before his fingers stroked the expanse of it, gently moving to the side to hold your hips; caressing your smooth skin while tracing the faint stretch marks decorating it.

your puffy clit peaked out of your wet slit, making zayne lean down to press a wet smooch on it. you shuddered, mouth gaping open as your breathing quickened. zayne dragged his tongue up your sopping folds slow and languidly, the tip of his tongue digging into your wet pussy. the difference in how zayne and caleb ate you out was clear. caleb liked to eat your honeyed cunt like a starved dog, as if it was his last meal; unlike zayne, who liked to take his time and savor the taste of your sweet cunt.

"mhmmm.... zaynee~" you slurred his name, drunk in pleasure as he took his time to lap at your pussy, suckling and nibbling on your clit. amethyst eyes bore into the back of zayne's head, fuming with anger and envy.

caleb's fingers dug into your thighs, making you wince in pain but soon it deliciously simmered into the pleasure you were getting from zayne's tongue. the colonel snickered, watching how slick your pussy was from saliva and your juices, deciding to toy with you as revenge.

you felt the pads of caleb's middle and ring finger brush against your hole, probing the tight opening. you groan, feeling him push in both fingers at once.

"c-caleb!" you stuttered out, feeling him scissor his fingers in and out of your tight hole; the thickness and length of his digits rubbing you in all the right places.

suddenly, xavier roughly grabbed your jaw, squishing your chubby cheeks in his hands; forcing you to look at him. the expression on his face was dark, eyes clouded with lust and possessiveness.

"you seem to be enjoying yourself, dirty girl. you like having four other guys touch you, hm? this mouth is fucking filthy, maybe i should clean it, yeah?" he smirked, blue eyes sharply peering down at you.

"x-xav.." you were cut off by his grip tightening just a little more, making you wince.

"shhh... not another word, my dumb little girl. now i just wanna hear you gagging on my cock, 'kay?" xavier unbuckled his belt before unzipping his pants. he pulled the waistband of his boxers down, making his hard cock spring against his abs, your eyes widening at the sight.

his dick didn't have a lot of girth, but fuck it was long. xavier tapped the blush pink tip of his leaky cock on your lips, spreading his precum all over them like it was your own personal gloss. his thumb rested on your chin before pulling it down, forcing your mouth to open as he slid his cock in; the ash-blonde male let out a shaky sigh.

both sylus and rafayel continued to paw at your tits, biting and sucking on your nipples. with a lewd 'pop!', they released your swollen bud, eyeing their shared masterpiece as your tits were littered with hickies and trails of saliva.

"why don't you return the favor, sweetie? these cute little hands of yours seem empty." sylus gives you a toothy grin, bringing your hand to the tent forming on his pants, making you palm him through them. a deep groan escaped his lips as your hand stroked him through the rough fabric of his leather pants.

rafayel now sat on his knees by your other side, grabbing your wrist before bringing it up to his lips. he kissed the soft, warm flesh of your wrist; inhaling the scent of your skin as he let out a moan.

"you smell so fucking good. god, it's driving me insane." he breathed out, licking your pulse point before gently biting down on it. rafayel continued to sniff and kiss your wrist, using his other free hand to undo his pants and pull his aching cock out; stroking it as it throbbed in his palms. he teased his slit, spreading the sticky precum all over the tip.

your eager hands fumbled with sylus's belt as you tried to undo it, a little difficult because your mouth was still full of xavier's cock and forced you to maintain eye contact with him; as if looking at anyone else in this room would make his existence perish. but, sylus decided to be kind enough and help you because who is he to deny you?

you dug your hand inside his boxers, eyes widening as you realized that you couldn't even fully grasp his dick. he was fucking hung, thick and long, not lacking in any area. a guttural moan escaped his lips, feeling your soft fingers caressing his balls.

you took out his cock from the confinement of his boxers, stroking the shaft of it as your fingers teased the throbbing vein that ran on the underside curve of his dick. sylus threw his head back in pleasure, a soft whimper heard as his chest heaved.

"feels so fuckin' good, sweetie." he praised, your hand still lazily moving up and down his thick meat.

you felt the tip of zayne's nose nudging your clit, providing more stimulation as he continued his assault on your sopping wet cunt; his tongue flicking at a leisurely pace between your folds. caleb matched the rhythm of zayne's tongue, finger-fucking you with deep and hard strokes.

your moans were muffled by xavier's cock as he drove his hips into your mouth; your cheeks hollowing as you tried to not graze the skin of his dick with your teeth. you could hear the soft grunts and whimpers falling from his lips, eyes closed in bliss as he still had your cheeks firmly squished between his fingers.

"fuck yeah... you were made for this, takin' my cock so well." xavier breathed out, slender fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled your head closer.

you could feel the pressure of zaynes tongue slurping your clit along with caleb's fingers abusing your cervix collide. the familiar knot began to settle in your lower stomach, making your thighs tremble as your eyes screwed shut, toes curling in pleasure.

caleb could feel your walls contracting, you were definitely close and as much as he would love to see you cream all over his fingers; you've been cruelly unfair to him.

xavier lazily opened his eyes, cerulean orbs looking down at you half-lidded. he scoffed, watching your face flush as saliva trickled down the corner of your mouth. you opened your eyes briefly, he watched as they rolled back from the pleasure you were recieving from your childhood friends.

he pulled his cock out of your mouth, glaring down at you.

"nghhh~ p-please..!" you mumbled against his tip, crying out in pleasure as you tried to kick your leg forward to get away from the two men ravaging your pussy. however, both caleb and zayne pinned your legs down.

"focus on me." xavier scowled, and in one swift and hard thrust, his cock slid down your throat as far as you could take him. your eyes blew wide open, as you gagged on his dick. he was being nice earlier, but now you really pissed him off.

you had the nerve to think about those two when he was being kind enough to rinse that dirty mouth of yours with his cock?

"fuckin' ungrateful brat, ignoring me when i'm stuffing this filthy mouth full of my dick." he panted, fucking your face as tears streamed down your face and drool dripped down your chin.

zayne and caleb continued their combined attack, making you scream as your felt zayne sucking on your clit harder while caleb's fingers continued to rub against your walls at a faster pace.

suddenly, all sensation was lost as caleb pulled out his fingers while simultaneously grabbing onto the back of zayne's head with his free hand; yanking his hair back to unlatch his mouth from your weeping cunt. your eyes widened as tears streamed down your face, your hole pulsating at the feeling of nothing.

"only good girls get to cum." caleb darkly chuckled, zayne wincing in slight pain as he swatted the hand that yanked his hair.

"do that again and i'll fucking kill you." zayne murmured, making caleb roll his eyes.

"mmphh...!" your cries were muffled as xavier continued to use your throat as his personal fuckhole. he continued to shove his dick deeper, a small bulge forming on your throat as he pressed against it.

"there we go." xavier grinned sadistically, continuing to chase his high.

"h-hahhh... fuck, gonna cum." he panted, face flushing as he threw his head back, driving his hips forward. you could feel his cock twitch in your mouth, before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you towards his lower stomach; shoving his cock deep in your throat one last time as your nose was buried in his soft pubes.

"shit.. shit- hnghh... take it- fuck, take it all." xavier moaned, his thick cum painting your throat as he came so much. your mouth became overloaded with his cum, leaking through the corner of your lips as you tried to swallow as much as you could. he pulled out, watching your gasp for air as you coughed.

"what do you say, slut?" he darkly asked.

"t-thank you." you breathed out, voice croaking.

"good girl." xavier smiled wickedly, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb, your tongue peeking out to lick it.

with the intense throat-fucking session with xavier and the cruel denial of your orgasm, you forgot about sylus who was still painfully hard in your hand.

"come on, sweetie, i know you could do better. want some help? yes, no, maybe so?" sylus whispered huskily, leaning down to bite your ear before kissing your temple.

"s-sorry.." you sniffled, still extremely sensitive.

"poor baby, don't cry. i'll help you." he cooed, grabbing your hand before spitting on it. the warm feeling of his spit made you shiver, he brought your hand to his cock; guiding you as you used your spit coated hand to grab his dick again.

this time, his hand firmly stayed on yours, tightening the grip. the silver haired male moaned, moving your joined hands up and down his throbbing cock; fucking your wet fist.

"hnghh... yeah, f-fuck..." sylus panted, thrusting his hips into the makeshift hole he made using your hand. his foxy eyes narrowed, bright ruby orbs rolling back as he rasped out swears from the absolute pleasure he was feeling.

rafayel hovered above your naked torso, his pretty cock resting on the valley between your tits. he grabbed his dick, giving it a few strokes, whimpering at his own touch before looking down at you.

"you're so beautiful." the lemurian whispered through labored breaths, face flushed as his mixed indigo eyes peeked at you through a half-lidded lust-filled stare.

rafayel swallowed harshly, guiding the tip of his leaky cock to your nipple; circling the hard bud as his precum coated it. your breath hitched, watching him use his hard cock to paint streaks of his precum all over the expanse of your hickey-littered chest.

he then spat on his hand, rubbing his spit all over his dick to lubricate it before settling it between your soft tits. using both of his hands, he squished your tits together to squeeze his warm cock between them. the whimper leaving his mouth was almost embarrassing from how loud and needy it was.

without a second more of hesitation, rafayel began to rut his hips forward, thrusting between your tits. he stroked your nipples before using his thumb and index finger, pinching the swollen buds and rolling them between his fingers.

"ahhh~ rafayel! f-feels good...!" you moaned, watching the blush pink tip of his cock peek through your cleavage every time he motioned his hips forward.

"hnghh... love your tits so much, cutie. so soft... so tasty and cute." he breathes out a small chuckled, eyebrows pinched in pleasure as he continued to thrust his cock between your boobs. his precum coated the valley of your tits, making it easier for him to slide between them.

while he continued his ministrations of using your titties to fuck himself, you focused on making sylus cum. you increased the pace of your hands, feeling his hand tightening the grip on yours, the vein on his cock pulsating as frequent deep whimpers left his lips. your thumb caught his slit, teasing it as he could feel his balls tighten.

"hmm... gonna make me cum, kitten." he groans, continuing to pump his cock using your hand until you felt the warm, thick wads of his cum dribble down your fingers. his hands slightly trembled, chest heaving as he tried to compose himself.

"fuck, that was... so hot." sylus chuckled, releasing your hand as he watched you bring your cum covered fingers to your mouth; licking his release as you hummed in approval.

he could feel himself get instantly hard again from such an erotic sight.

"you're mean, darling." he shook his head, making you grin.

you broke away your gaze from sylus, watching rafayel fall apart as he desperately groped your tits.

"h-hahhh... need y..-your help, cutie! please?" he pathetically begged, swallowing harshly as his hips stuttered. rafayel grabbed your wrist once more, smelling your scent and licking your flesh; groaning at how intoxicated you made him feel. the tip of his tongue traced your fingers before encasing them with his soft lips, sucking and biting on your digits; indigo eyes looking at you with a pleading look.

you smirked, knowing that it'd be easy to tease him. you were basically at all of their mercy, but knowing you still had just a little bit of power against him at least; it made your heart beat in your pussy.

"you poor thing, need my help?" you pouted, faux sympathy written all over your face. the others watched in amusement and rafayel's horny-fucked brain couldn't even have the dignity to feel embarrassed.

"p-please... promise i'll be good, so good." he breathed out and you smiled in satisfaction, sitting up before pushing him back. rafayel now sat on the mattress, hungry eyes watching you sit back on your knees.

you leaned down, squishing his cock between your tits before sliding them up and down. rafayel's eyes screwed shut in pleasure, countless of goans and whimpers slipping out of his tongue; showering you endlessly with praise.

"y-yeah cutie, just like that... nghhh~ gonna make me cum." rafayel shamelessly moaned, mouth gape open as his breathing was uneven. you stuck your tongue out, lapping at his tip before wrapping your lips around it; suckling on it as if it was a lollipop.

you rubbed your tits together on his shaft, using your mouth to suck the rest. your drool trickled down from his swollen tip to the squishy tight slit created by your tits; making his cock slide with ease. the sounds produced was obscene, shlick shlick shlick. rafayel could feel his body tremble in pleasure, stroking your hair as his balls twitched.

"gonna cum! h-hahhh... p-please, cutie!" his lips were swollen from how much he bit them. soon enough, his hot cum was painting your tits, dripping down your nipples as his cock throbbed.

"fuck.." rafayel sighed, stroking your cheek as he glanced at what he did.

mentally clicking a picture to remember for the rest of his life when he fucks his fist to the thought of you.

"better?" you innocently batted your eyelashes, looking up at him with a dazed expression.

"you little minx." his breath hitched as you turned your face to the side, catching his thumb between your lips to give it a small suck before biting it playfully.

"you seem to be enjoying yourself a little too much, brat." you heard a daring voice break the moment, looking up to see a mean caleb glowering down at you.

you swallowed harshly, looking at rafayel for some help, but the cheeky lemurian only grinned at you; eyes twinkling with trouble as he moved away.

"you like being used like this, don't you? have you forgotten who's in control here?" now, xavier came into view as he scoffed, taking in your pitiful state.

"i think it's time that you learn your place." caleb suddenly pushed you towards the ash-blonde haired male, making you gasp as you were now sitting on his waist; hands pressed against his bare chest. you could feel the curve of xavier's hard cock press against your ass, making you unknowingly grind against the throbbing length of it to seek for some friction.

"tch, look at you. you're like a fuckin' bitch in heat." xavier snickers, holding down your hips with a bruising grip, making you wince. you felt the tip of his dick slip between your wet folds, his hands maneuvering your hips to help you glide on him. a breathy whimper leaves your lips, feeling his sticky tip caress your achy clit.

you hear the clinking sound of caleb's belt being undone and in what felt like mere seconds; you could feel his warm body heat radiating behind you. his lips grazed your nape, the tip of his nose gliding on your skin. he left wet kisses all over your neck and shoulder, trailing down the deep passage of your spine; making you arch forwards from your increased sensitivity.

xavier on the other hand fondled your tits, pinching and twisting your nipples. his fingers moved down, brushing against your hips. suddenly, you felt his tip prodding your tight hole, making you gulp.

they were all so fucking big and thick, you were wondering how you'd take them all. god, you couldn't even use process of elimination to figure out who'd be less painful to take in.

however, all that thinking flew straight out of your ears as xavier planted his feet on the mattress; harshly thrusting upwards into you. a croaky moan ripped out of your throat, your head lolling back to caleb's chest as you breathed heavy.

although xavier wasn't that thick, he was long as fuck; he couldn't even bottom out fully inside your cunt. you could feel his tip kissing your cervix. while caleb continued to place bite marks and lick at his work, xavier paid no mind to his counterpart; fucking you at a brutal pace.

"hnghh~ a-aahh... xav! w-wait!" you tried to slow him down, but that only made him go faster. he grabbed your hands which were resting on his lower stomach, pulling you forwards as you fell on his chest; away from caleb's touch.

the colonel scowled at the loss of your skin, glaring at the ash-blonde male in front of him. xavier didn't care, his hand finding purchase to the supple fatty flesh on your ass, spanking you hard as you yelped in pain and pleasure. your eyes squeezed shut, trying to form coherent words.

"you know i hate it when you don't look at me while i'm fucking you. open your eyes, y/n." he tapped your face, forcing you to look down at him. you bit your lips, trying to prevent another moan from flying out of your mouth, feeling xavier's cock rub your wet velvety walls just right.

his tip continued to bruise your cervix, his thrusts were deep and hard as he made sure you felt every inch of him in you. a ring of cream began to form at the base of his shaft, your juices dripping down to coat his heavy balls as you felt your thighs burning.

"hope you didn't forget about me, princess." caleb whispered, hovering behind you as you felt him grope your ass cheek. your eyes widened as you felt him spread them, his index finger gently grazing your other untouched tight hole.

"nghh.. wait, caleb! h-hahhh, never did it there before." you confessed, making him chuckle.

"well then, i'm glad to be your first here. don't worry, i'll make sure you're ready for me." caleb's words did seem genuine but rather because of the fact that he was about to touch you and feel you somewhere no one ever has.

you nodded at his words, too fucked out to even care about anything else. you were more focused on cumming, your cunt puffy and weeping from being neglected the last time your orgasm was denied; thanks to caleb.

so, you definitely didn't wanna get on his bad side again.

caleb spat on his fingers, bring it down to your ass before spreading the sticky spit on your hole. you soon felt his wet digit push through the tight ring of muscle, making you wince in pain as you breathed heavily.

"f-fuck... hurts.." you whined, but it would soon dissipate as xavier continued to drill into your pussy, distracting you from the pain of having caleb's finger in your ass.

it took some time but eventually the colonel was able to finger-fuck your ass with two of his fingers, meanwhile, xavier thrusted up into your leaky pussy that sheathed his throbbing cock. the ash-blonde haired male rubbed your clit to provide some more stimulation, your body trembling once you felt caleb withdrawing his fingers from inside you.

caleb sat on his knees, spreading your ass once more before leaning in, the tip of his tongue dragging from where you and xavier were connected; all the way up to your ass hole.

"ah! caleb!" you cried out, feeling him land a glob of spit on the tight hole before pulling away. caleb grabbed the base of his cock, his tip was a reddish-purple; angrily weeping precum as he stroked himself a few times. you could hear him groan behind you before feeling his wet tip squish against your hole.

"c'mere." caleb commanded, a hand coming down to gently grab your jaw, pulling you back to him. he tilts your head up, making you look into his eyes; leaning down to press his lips on yours in a searing kiss.

that's when you felt the burning stretch of his fat tip pushing past the tight ring of muscle in your ass, a pained cry leaving your lips, only to be muffled as he swallowed it; not letting go of your lips. tears pricked your eyes, feeling him slowly feed his cock into your tight ass, inch by inch.

the kiss with caleb was rough and messy, full of tongue and spit. the wet smacking sound of his lips clashing with yours as he drinks in your moans was so erotic. as his cock was now thrusted deep in your ass, he was kind enough to let you adjust to his size. his hand still firmly grabbing your jaw in place to not break away from the kiss while the other played with your tits.

meanwhile, xavier continued to give you nice slow and soft thrusts in your cunt, paying close attention to stimulate your clit. you were so full of both of their cocks, your mind was blank.

all you thought of was dick, dick, dick.

it was embarrassing and greedy, how full they made you feel, how good the burn felt as they both stretched out your holes.

it was definitely a pornographic sight.

as you grew used to having both of them inside you, caleb was the first to quicken his pace, pistoning his hips into you as his cock began to rub your walls. following in suit, xavier tried to match his rhythm, fucking your cunt with more rigor. your mouth gaped wide open, unable to respond to caleb's kiss anymore as you were too cock drunk.

"a-a..ahh! nghh~ feels so good!" you cried out in pleasure, feeling them both rub against the thin barrier that separated the two. you could feel your lower stomach churn in pleasure, your eyes rolling back as you began to drool from the corner of your mouth.

"what a dumb little slut, fucked your brains out already?" you heard xavier darkly chuckle, pinching your clit as you yelped at the sudden sharp sensation.

"p-please... wanna cum so bad! x..-xav.." your throat was parched as you tried to control your breathing, your lower stomach tightening as you could feel the familiar build-up of your orgasm.

"tch, you're moaning his name when i'm stuffing you full of my dick? where are your manners, pipsqueak?" caleb's tone was gravely, glaring at you with a look that could only make your knees grow weak, his grip on your jaw tightening just a little to remind you he was still here; balls deep in you.

"s-sor.. hgnhh.. sorry! please, c..caleb.." you stammered out, feeling the alternating push and withdraw of their cocks syncing together; turning your brain into mush.

displeased with your switch up, xavier yanked you forwards by your arm, squishing your cheeks together.

"you deceitful vixen, running to him when you don't get what you want? i'm the one taking care of this slutty pussy and you have the nerve to beg him? the fuck is wrong with you." xavier seethed with anger, his hips bucking into yours with more intensity; making you wail out in pleasure.

"i'm sor-" you tried to helplessy apologize again, only to be pulled back by caleb; the start of a tug-of-war as if you were a toy.

"don't fucking apologize to him, princess. you're mine, so when i say that you can cum, then you cum." caleb whispered, making you shiver as you sniffled out a cry.

"please.. fuck, please- i can't! t..too much.." you whimpered, making them both scoff.

"you can take it." both caleb and xavier sneered, making you whine.

"ungrateful brat, wanting us both and now you're saying it's too much?" xavier slapped your clit, making you jolt. you felt caleb bite down on your shoulder, the cold metal of his dog tag pressed against your warm, flushed skin.

you felt them twitch inside you, throbbing thick cocks rubbing against your insides. caleb and xavier continued to slide in and out of you, making your body grow hot.

"fuck, fuck, please! s-so close..!" you breathed out, feeling xavier's thrusts grow sloppy as with one final hard thrust; he emptied his balls inside you. his thick, warm cum filled your cunt as you quivered, his hips still rolling back in you.

your head was spinning, both of their scents were intoxicating. their hands were groping, slapping and stroking every bit of skin exposed to their lustful eyes. both caleb and xavier's thrusts held no mercy, battering your cunt and ass as your thighs felt like jelly. you squealed, feeling your walls tightening as you desperately squirmed, trying to lift yourself off and escape.

"where are you going? don't run away, i'm not done yet." caleb yanked you back to him. caleb's grunts and groans got louder by your ear, his arm wrapping around your stomach to hold you down in place; his cock fully in your ass as he shot fat wads of his sticky cum.

before you could process anything, they sadistically exchanged a cruel smirk, pulling out of you as your holes gushed out an obscene amount of their mixed cum.

"n-no! no! hnghh.. w-why.." you sobbed at the loss of contact, the fullness of their cocks gone as your orgasm was destroyed for the second time.

"since we weren't enough, why don't you go ask the others." caleb pushed you to the side, making you collapse on the mattress as tears ran down your cheek.

you looked up and noticed sylus and rafayel looking down at you, an unwavering glint pinned on your ruined form as they waited for your next move. it was humiliating, how you were begging them to let you cum; but it was too much.

you were going insane, needing some relief.

you weakly crawled to sylus and rafayel, sniffling as your body began to shake. your thighs were dripping with xavier and caleb's cum, your messy holes pulsing and aching.

"sy.. raf.. please, make me cum. i-i... i promise i'll be a good girl." you desperately pleaded, fat teardrops running down your flushed cheeks; making them both groan as your pathetic state only made their cocks harden.

"poor little kitten, they were so mean to you, weren't they?" sylus cooed as he wiped your tears away, tone honeyed with gentleness but with an undertone of mischief.

you nodded helplessly, leaning into his touch as you nuzzled your cheeks into his palm. you kissed the inside of his hand, licking the warm and rough skin.

just like a kitten.

sylus grinned at your antics, amused at how compliant you were. however, he wasn't that mean; he'd humor you.

"need us to make her feel better, cutie?" rafayel teasingly spoke, long fingers running across your slit as you whimpered; the tip of his digits circling your clit.

"mmphh, y-yes... please.." you bit down on your lip, tasting the metallic taste of blood.

"alright, sweetie. we'll help you." sylus chortled, leaning against the headboard. he grabbed your hips, spinning you around in one fluid motion, your back now facing him. he then lifted you up before placing you on his waist, as if you weighed nothing.

you yelped as sylus hooked his beefy arms under your thighs, pulling them up to your head; putting you in a mean full nelson. the sudden pressure and stretch made your cunt gush out more of the cum that was fucked into you earlier, soaked pussy lips spread apart as you were now exposed and on display in a very vulnerable position.

"s-sylus!" you shyly meeked, making him hum.

"what? don't be selfish, sweetie. you know the fish is an artist, let him see this masterpiece." sylus bit your earlobe.

rafayel settled between sylus's legs, now in front of you as he shamelessly stared at your messy folds. he salivated as it took everything in him to not just lean down and makeout with your tempting cunt.

"stop lookin'." you whined, feeling how intense his gaze was. however, rafayel just gave you a breathy chuckle.

"why not? she's sooooo pretty." he licked his lips, flashing you a boyish grin, making your heart leap into your throat.

the lemurian lowered his head, pressing gentle kisses on your soft stomach, dragging his lips up your navel until he reached your tits. he sighed in bliss, smoothering his face between your boobs as he kissed and licked the mounds of flesh.

his dick rested on top of your pussy, sticky tip parting your folds as he rutted his hips; sliding the length of his cock against your slick covered cunt. his tip repeatedly nudged your clit, rubbing it as you moaned in bliss from the heavenly contact.

your hand found purchase in his dusky, purple hair; carding your fingers through his soft locks. you tugged on his hair, making him moan as the vibration rumbling from his lips were felt on your nipple as he sucked; making you choke out a moan.

the silver haired male kissed your temple, smiling.

"come on, sweetie, need you to hold your legs up for me so i can take care of you." his voice was groggy, releasing your legs before grabbing your hands to help you lift them as you obeyed.

"there you go, good girl." sylus praised, grabbing the base of his cock, swiping it a few times between your messy folds, nudging his tip on your hole. you moaned at the feel of his cock deliciously rubbing against your aching pussy.

"p-please... nghh- no more teasing." you were breathless, feeling rafayel once again capture your nipple in his mouth, suckling as if his purpose in life was to worship your tits.

"if you say so, sweetie." sylus compliantly shoved his inches in you, feeding your greedy hole his hard dick. your jaw dropped, eyes rolling back as his fat girth stretched your cunt; sliding in with ease because of your arousal along with xavier and caleb's shared cum.

rafayel watched your hole eagerly swallow up sylus's cock, gulping at the sight as his dick was painfully hard; globs of precum dripping onto your clit.

"so tight even after all that? how cute." sylus lets out a huff, slowly moving his hips upwards to give you some slow and deep strokes; tip squishing against your cervix.

"h-hnghh... fuck... feels so good, sy." you moaned, turning your head to the side to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. he happily accepted, sucking on your bottom lip before swiping his tongue against it for permission to explore your mouth.

his hands firmly grabbed your hips before planting his feet on the mattress, grounding both himself and you before pounding upwards into your dripping cunt. your mouth flew open from his sudden shift in pace, and he took that chance to shove his tongue in your mouth; exploring every cavern and crevice. both of your tongues mingled and tangled, sucking and licking as drool trickled down your chin.

"fuck, cutie... you look so hot like this; it's tempting. i can't let the crow have all the fun now, can i?" rafayel's fingers stroked your thigh, leaning down to kiss your plush thighs, gently biting the soft skin.

"ahhh... raf.." you whimpered, biting your lip as you feel his tip poke your ass hole. you released one of your legs, pressing your foot on his chest to stop him.

"hm?" the lemurian tilts his head in confusion at your sudden action, stopping his advances.

"n-not there... need you and sy at the same time.." you licked your dry lips, words barely coming out as a whisper. rafayel's eyes widened at your request, sylus's ruby orbs mirroring the same bewilderment.

"naughty girl, you want us both in this sweet cunt of yours? you think you can handle it?" sylus teased, a cocky smirk painted on his lips.

you nodded frantically, your foot running down rafayel's chest as you looked up at him with a cheeky smile; eyes barely open as you gazed at him with a dazed look.

"i can handle it, p-promise." you assured, making rafayel grin.

"well you heard her, crow. make some space." he grabbed the base of his shaft, now aligning his cock with your hole that was already occupied with sylus's thick cock. the silver haired male scoffed, rolling his eyes before momentarily stopping his thrusts; letting rafayel ease into you.

a screamish-moan ripped out of your throat, your walls clamping instinctively on both of their cocks; both men grunting in response as the space became tighter. your eyes swelled with tears, the salty warm fluid streaming down your cheeks as you tried to adjust to the painful stretch of having two giant cocks lodged in your cunt at the same time.

"shh... there, there, pretty girl. it's okay." rafayel tried to console you, his words barely making it to a full sentence before his voice betrayed him; a strangled whimper slipping off his tongue.

"i gotcha, sweetie." sylus mumbled against the skin of your nape, his hand snaking around your waist, fingers finding your clit as he began to rub soothing circles on the bundle of nerves to distract you.

the both of them allowed you to adjust to their cocks, providing additional stimulation to help you relax so that your walls aren't as tense. rafayel's teeth grazed your nipples, teasing and flicking the pebbled buds while sylus's fingers worked their magic to affectionately pinch and stroke your clit.

"nghh~ feels good... hnnghh- need more." you whined, moving your hips on your own accord, wincing as you could feel both of their dicks rubbing against your velvety wet walls.

"ya sure you're ready, cutie? we have all night." rafayel let out a shaky laugh, half-joking.

"moveee." you bucked your hips, making sylus chuckle.

"someone's impatient, not that i mind." with that being said, sylus once again began to slowly thrust into your pussy. he grunted, feeling his cock graze against rafayel's, the sensation feeling a little weird but he ignored that fact.

rafayel moaned at the sudden friction, his hand wrapping around your calf to push it by your head; mirroring your other leg which you still held up obediently. rafayel leaned closer, pressing against you before latching his lips onto your; kissing you senselessly.

you moaned into his mouth, feeling the both of them pistoning into your tight, dripping hole. rafayel hissed as he felt your fingers tug his hair, angling your jaw to deepend the kiss.

the room was full of wet skin slapping followed by the lewd sound of your pussy gushing out your juices; coating their cocks in your arousal as it dribbled down to their balls. rafayel's lips continued to suck and kiss at your swollen and bitten once; his tongue suckling with yours before pulling away as a string of saliva connected you two.

he pushed himself off of you, bringing the leg he held for you towards him. he kissed your ankle, running the tip of his tongue down to your calf before kitten-biting the flesh of it.

"mmphh... you taste so fucking sweet." rafayel swore under his breath, thrusting his cock deeper into your weeping hole. sylus followed in suit, both of their tips bruising your cervix.

"shit... you're taking us both so well, sweetie." sylus praised, now matching the movement of his fingers that were once leisurely rubbing your clit to the pace of his thrusts.

in seconds, everything shifted.

their gazes darkened, clouded with need and hunger. you squealed, feeling both sylus and rafayel thrusting in and out of your cunt with no mercy as their movement didn't falter.

not once.

they were so perfectly synced together, as if they were one.

"a-ahhhh~... f-fuck! please, please, please! so close... god! i'm gonna cum!" you choked on your tears as you sobbed, the pleasure you were feeling was intense.

your eyes rolled back, toes curled as you were gasping for air. both men grunted and moaned; focusing on chasing their high.

"how bad you want it, kitten?" sylus groaned, fucking his hips upward as you whimpered.

"so bad, fuck, need it so bad!" you desperately answered, convinced that you wouldn't survive another ruined orgasm.

"yeah? ask nicely, where are your manners, cutie?" rafayel snickered, driving his hips into your; pelvis meeting yours with brutal thrusts that made your body jerk.

"h-hahhhh... oh my god...- please, please, please. let me cum? i promise i'll be good, so fuckin' good. please raf... sy... need it so bad." you threw out every last ounce of dignity within yourself to beg them with your last bit of voice.

both men, clearly satisfied with your answer, feed your cunt with their cocks using an unforgiving pace of thrusts. rafayel's hips were a bit sloppier, but they were fast and needy, like he was scared that you'd disappear. in contrast, sylus's pace was slow but his thrusts were hard and deep; making sure his tip met your cervix with every movement of his hips.

"fuck, fuck, fuck..." the silver haired male let out a guttural moan, eyes screwed shut as he could feel his cock pulsate; vein twitching as blood flowed with adrenaline.

rafayel shamelessly moaned on top of you, panting like a dog as he continued to fuck his dick into your wet hole.

"open your mouth." he demanded and too fucked out to even decipher his intentions, you obeyed. rafayel spat into your mouth, the thick glob of spit coating your tongue before you swallowed it.

"good girl." rafayel grunted, feeling his balls tightening as he was close to cumming as well.

your stomach knotted, the build-up of your orgasm even more stronger as your gummy walls clamped down on their cocks viciously.

"auughh~ i'm cumming! fuck.. hnghh..." you choked out a moan, eyes screwed shut as hot liquid squirted out of your cunt; coating rafayel's lower abdomen. you creamed on their cocks, body twitching as you feel both of them creampie you; shoving their sticky and gooey cum deep into your womb.

your juices and their cum dripped down your thigh, coating sylus's balls as you could hear his breathing become uneven from the aftermath of such intense pleasure. rafayel collapsed on top of you, still mindful to not crush you with his entire weight.

"so tired..." he childishly whined, biting your nipple playfully as you huffed.

"you're heavy, raf, get off." you grumbled, making him pout as he smoothered his face between your boobs once again.

"nah, you're too soft." he argued, making you roll your eyes.

"i feel sticky and gross.." you mumbled, noticing how the room was a bit more quieter. xavier was passed out on the couch and caleb left the room a few minutes ago for whatever reason; zayne watching the whole scene intently from the edge of the bed.

you locked eyes with him, noticing the slight blush on his face. he cleared his throat, looking away.

"perhaps a hot shower might be nice." he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"yeah, it does sound tempting." you hummed.

"need some help, sweetie?" sylus offered, but his tone had a hint of mischief.

"i got it." zayne suddenly spoke up, walking over to where you were sandwhiched between rafayel and sylus. he pushed the groggy lemurian over, making him groan.

"hey! i was comfy." rafayel complained, making the doctor roll his eyes.

"it's my place, surely i know my bathroom better." sylus snickered, making zayne narrow his eyes.

"if i could perfom hundreds of heart surgeries, i'm sure i can figure out how to work your damn shower." zayne snarked back with an equal amount of bite, making the silver haired male smirk.

"touche, she's all yours, doc." sylus chuckled.

zayne sighed, scooping you up in his arms before heading into the bathroom; locking the door behind him.

"you look... fucked." he blurted out, making you laugh at his dry comment.

"wow, thanks, i didn't know." you playfully rolled your eyes, making him crack a small smile.

"that was... intense. after you shower, i could get you some painkillers to help with any soreness. can you stand?" zayne asked with a flicker of concern in his hazel orbs, settling you on your legs and lightly loosening his grip; only for your knees to wobble as you held onto his bicep for support.

"i guess not." he answered his own question, making you chuckle.

"mind helping me out, doc?" you asked, peering up at him with a girly smile. zayne felt his heart skip a beat, heat creeping up to his neck.

it's not like this would be his first time being intimate with you, but you still made him feel incredibly nervous.

"if you insist, then i don't mind." his tone was soft and gentle. you smiled at his agreement, taking off his glasses. you leaned onto the sink for support, watching him undo his tie before unbuttoning his shirt; revealing his chiseled chest.

fuck, his physique was like a greek god.

he undid his belt, zipping down his pants before kicking them off together with his boxers; his cock springing to life as his pinkish tip was a little swollen while dripping with precum. you leaned forwards, now pressed against him as your bare chest rubbed against his.

zayne groaned at the intimate skinship, his cock rubbing against your soft thighs. your hand reached down, grabbing the shaft as you experimentally gave it a few strokes.

"let me take care of you." your voice was a bare whisper, making him shudder. but, to your surprise, he shook his head.

"no, you don't have to do this for me, i'll get myself off or something. just ignore it, okay?" zayne tried to convince you, but it only made you frown.

"but i want to... i've been wanting to feel you the whole night." you pressed soft kisses along his jawline, making him swallow harshly as you saw his adam's apple bob.

"then let me make it up to you since that bastard pulled me away from you. i'll make you feel good, baby." he lifted your hips, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as his cock was now nestled between your folds.

he walked inside the shower, pulling the glass doors to close it before turning on the water; adjusting the temperature. you cupped his face, pulling him closer to yours to seal his lips with yours.

zayne moaned into your mouth, molding his lips with yours as he softly kneaded your ass. your tongue poked his bottom lip, seeking for entry which he happily granted. you kissed him with a needy vigor, sucking his tongue as you stroked his wet jet black hair.

pulling away breathlessly, zayne looked down at you with swollen lips. he attacked your neck with kisses, making your whimper as you felt his tongue graze your flesh, softly tracing the hickies left on your skin with the tip of his tongue. he moved down to your tits, sucking your nipples as your hand held the back of his head; pushing him closer as you moaned.

"mhmm... feels so good, zayne." you praised, watching him tug your nipple between his teeth before giving it a deserving suck. he soon lets go of your swollen bud, hazel eyes meeting yours.

"i'll be gentle, okay?" he assured, making your chest feel warm and fuzzy as you nodded; wrapping your arms around his neck.

zayne grabbed the base of his cock, tapping your clit a few times, making you jolt. he smirked at how responsive your body was, aligning his tip with your hole. with a firm grip on your hips, he begin to sink you down on his hard cock, slowly shoving his inches inside you.

your mouth formed an 'o' shape as your eyes shut tight, feeling full as he bottomed out.

"s-so full.." you moaned, feeling him slowly thrust inside of you as the curve of his dick molded so perfectly in your wet walls. you clenched down on him, making him grunt at the sudden tightness.

"you feel so good, babygirl." zayne whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek and temple before sliding you up and down his dick. you rested your head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent as you kissed his neck.

this felt so new compared to what happened just minutes ago. the others fought over you like you were some piece of meat to claim; but zayne treated you like you were made of glass.

he was so gentle with his touches and strokes, you could almost cry.

zayne's tip nudged your cervix with every push of his hips, now having you pressed against the wall to have a better hold of you so that he can drive his hips into yours faster. your cunt weeped with arousal, gummy walls coated with his precum.

his thrusts were sharp yet slow, making sure it applied the right amount of pressure and friction to make you feel like you were seeing stars. his balls slapped against your ass, your nipple between his lips.

"hnghh.. love your cock, zyane. g-gonna cum.." you let out a shaky breath, clenching down on him as your increased sensitivity betrayed your body, not allowing you to hold onto your orgasm for too long.

"it's okay, baby. you can cum." he grunted against the wet skin of your tits and you didn't realize how intimate and erotic the whole sight was.

a choked out whimper escaped your throat, your cunt clamping down on him as you squirted all over his cock. your body twitched and trembled at your orgasm, panting as you leaned against his chest.

"shit, please... i need you to fill me up." you begged and that's all it took him to bust a fat load of his thick, hot cum inside your hole.

"fuck.." he swore and god it sounded so hot coming from his mouth.

the bathroom was filled with the sounds of uneven breathing and the running showerhead.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

you stirred awake, groaning as you now laid on your back. sunlight beamed into your room, making your eyes burn as you tried to crack one of them.

"fuckin' hell.." you cursed under your breath, adjusting your vision as you sat up on your bed. your head was swirling as you held it in pain, wincing.

it was all a dream.

you slapped yourself, not believing how delusional you became to believe that whatever the hell that was could be reality.

"yeah, i'm losing it." you sighed deeply, scratching your head. you tapped your phone screen, reading the time as your eyes blew wide open.

fuck, it was well past noon, meaning you missed your morning classes already.

"you're kidding me." you huffed out in annoyance, leaning back on the headboard as you unlocked your phone.

you saw the many, many, many missed calls from your best friend; making you snort.

as you swiped through your applications, your eyes fell on the love and deepspace icon. memories of your strange dream replayed fresh in your memory, your body weirdly aching.

you brushed off those thoughts, clicking the icon as you wondered if infold fixed those weird bugs and glitches by now. you were surprised to see the app back into shape, running in good quality as you logged in with ease.

"huh, weird." you mumbled to yourself, calmly collecting your daily’s.

until you realized you had five undread messages.

hey pipsqueak, hope you're not still mad at me for being a bit mean to ya. i'll cook for you when you come back :p

hope you're not missing me too much, sweetie. come back and i'll take you for a joyride.

cutieeee! i miss you already :C come back soon, okay? need my personal pillow back.

if your throat is still sore, come back so we can have hotpot together. it'll be my treat.

have you taken those painkillers like i told you to?

your jaw was wide open, not believing your eyes. these texts seemed way too real to be automated.

"what the fuck." you quickly opened your front camera, only to see the faint purplish marks decorating your neck.

holy shit, all of that was real.

a smirk etched on your face as you quickly tapped the facetime app, ringing the only person you knew could stand this news and have a silver of faith in you to be convinced.

"finally decided to call me back? thought you died in your sleep or something." your best friend nagged at you, making you chuckle.

"you won't believe what happened last night." you giggle, making her roll her eyes at you.

"let me guess, you had a dream about all the lads guys fucking your brains out." she responded with a bored voice.

"even better."

---

a/n: hehe, if you made it to the end, kuddos to you cuz rereading through this was a pain the ass. if you couldn't tell by now, this was very self-indulgent, so i got carried away. hope you guys enjoyed it tho!!

[adiadagaki]

smitten!sukuna tears off his clothes the moment he hears the word marriage. He wasn’t happy he would not have free rein over you but it was a small price to pay for your hand in marriage.

smitten!sukuna reluctantly turns his back to you, barely able to watch as you prepare yourself to absolutely ravage the king in a way he never had been before with a wicked smile on your lips.

smitten!sukuna who confidently claims he needs no prep before you fuck him. I mean, he had lived for thousands of years, as if he needed to be eased into anything.

“You sure Ryo? I don’t mind taking my time.”

Growling, both at your teasing and how his cock twitched in excitement, he glared at you over his shoulder.

“Put it in, princess or you won’t be fucking me at all tonight.”

smitten!sukuna who watches as you grab hold of his hips and ease the toy you had bought inside of him with concentration he had never seen on you. He found it rather endearing.

smitten!sukuna who doesn’t see the point of this when he feels nothing. Until you hit the halfway mark. It’s then his breathing picks up, a foreign pleasure taking root in his abdomen.

smitten!sukuna curls his hands into the duvet of your shared bed, fighting back moans that threaten to burst past his lips.

smitten!sukuna who almost asks you how much more, but realises how pathetic he would sound if he did, so he bites his tongue.

“Almost there.” You coo, acutely aware of how tightly his muscles are bunched. He was enjoying it but was so intent on hiding it. You smirked.

smitten!sukuna chokes when you thrust the last bit inside, his thighs trembling in spite of how he tried to still them. The regret inside him fights to both fizzle and flair.

smitten!sukuna does his best to stay silent but fails miserably as soon as you begin to move, noises akin to grunts leaving his lips, with the occasional moan slipping through. He swears you’ve turned the heat in the room up because he is so god damn hot he wants to tear his skin off.

smitten!sukuna who would rather die than ask you to stop.

“You are taking it so good.”

smitten!sukuna lets out a full, unbashful moan left his lips, strained from how hard he had held his vocal cords back, his cocks twitching as he did.

“Come on Ryo, you gotta come, prove to me you’ll be a good little husband.”

Reaching around his waist, you wrapped one of your hands around his top cock, the other around the one below. You lost some leverage with your hips, having to settle on shallow thrusts and grinds, but you knew the outcome would be worth it.

Squeezing both of his cocks, you began to drag your hands up and down his cock with strong, hard strokes.

smitten!sukuna swears he lost his mind in that moment, eyes crossing, body clenching and lips loose, giving you every drop of pleasure you could ever wring from him.

“That’s it Ryo. Such a good boy.”

smitten!sukuna comes harder than he ever has in his entire existence.

Part 1 Part 3

[gutsby]

Too Close for Comfort

Pairing: Joel Miller x Babysitter!Reader

Summary: You’ve been babysitting Sarah Miller forever. One day, you’re surfing the web on her dad’s computer, and you find some…unusual things in his search history.

Or, Joel likes to jerk off to your lookalike on PornHub. It’s time you showed him what the real thing is like.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Creampie. Mommy/Daddy Roleplay (HEAR ME OUT!!) Brief boot humping. Squirting. Perv!Joel. Breeding kink.

Note: ‘Just call me if anyone else checks in…and by anyone, I mean any swingin dick’ is a line from No Country for Old Men

Word count: 12.7k

Purple slime had been Sarah’s idea.

It was an innocent thing, really. The four-year-old had practically been bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes wide and shining with excitement when she’d begged—‘Can we pleeeeease?!’—and who were you to tell her no?

You’d only be breaking one small rule of Joel’s, after all. One silly little admonition he’d made before leaving for work the first day you’d started babysitting for him. That had been over a year ago, and he hadn’t even sounded that serious when he’d said it. He probably wouldn’t mind if you bent the rule this one time at Sarah’s behest.

‘Don’t go in the computer room, please.’

Don’t use Joel’s desktop. Don’t rifle through any of the drawers in Joel’s office—it was a mess, but everything was in its place, according to him. Just don’t go in there.

But in exchange for Sarah agreeing to take her nap that day without protest, you’d promised to order her slime.

Purple, gooey, glittery, sticky stuff for her new collection.

You weren’t sure when the fuck putty had become the plaything of choice for kids in Pre-K, but you hadn’t been in a place to judge; whatever Sarah wanted to do, so long as it was safe for her to play with, was totally fine by you.

It was just one rule.

Surely if Mr. Miller knew how badly his daughter wanted the slime, he’d be fine with you booting up his computer once. That was what you kept telling yourself, anyway.

What kept humming through your mind as the desktop came to life and you toggled straight for Google Chrome.

Be quick, be quiet, it’s fine. It’s fine.

Purple goo—it was safe. Innocent. Completely justifiable.

What could the sweet, old, forty-something and forever polite Joel Miller possibly have to hide on this machine that made it wrong for you to buy this one simple toy?

You reached for the keyboard and inhaled a quick breath.

Then you typed one letter, and your heart nearly seized.

P…

…ornhub.com

It was the very first thing that appeared in the search bar.

You couldn’t unsee it. Instinctively, your hand clamped over your mouth, and your eyes widened. You couldn’t help but read the four URLs that immediately dropped down below the first; they were just so garishly inviting.

Hot, Naughty Babysitter gets POUNDED by her Boss!

Slutty Babysitter Gets Railed from Behind and Loves It

Big Dick Boss Gives Babysitter a Passionate Raw Fuck

‘I’ve Never Done This!’ Babysitter Deepthroats Cock

“Oh…my gosh,” you said, words muffled by your palm.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. It was just too bizarre, too far out of character, too unlike your boss.

The man had scarcely said ten words to you altogether that didn’t relate to your job in some way or another. He rarely ever engaged in casual confab, and he certainly wasn’t the type to flirt, or make you uncomfortable in the slightest. Frankly, in all the time you’d been babysitting, you always thought you were just…invisible to Joel Miller.

Not this. Never this.

You were still staring at the screen when you realized that you’d missed one URL title from the list. It was long.

It was the most unnerving one of all, you came to see.

Babysitter Lounging Poolside in Hot Red Bikini Gets a BIG Surprise—Her Old Boss Teaches Her How to FUCK

Your hand lowered from your face. It trembled, contemplating, before coming to rest atop the mouse.

Something about this seemed familiar. Strangely…off.

You couldn’t explain it, but your head and your heart and your hand gravitated to that one odd link in particular. You hadn’t even meant to move the mouse. Or press it with your finger. But there you went, following your instincts like some dumb, brainless ditz, and then the screen was changing. Going dark with the shift to an adult site before brightening anew with the thumbnail.

It was paused on one frame. Your jaw slackened.

The girl staring back from the scene was you.

Or looked exactly, uncannily like you anyway.

It was then that you noticed what she was wearing, too—what you guessed wouldn’t be on her body for long—and you glanced down to your own shoulder. Just like your on-screen doppelgänger, you were wearing the same bikini in a bright, cherry-red hue beneath your tank top.

You wore it under your clothes damn near every day, indulging in the Millers’ backyard pool more often than not, and even being allowed to swim there on the days Sarah had summer camp—Joel had been so obliging.

So accommodating and sweet.

You never thought he’d be seeking your fucking twin online on a porn site after watching you traipse around his property wearing it. Your gut clenched; you clicked.

“Hey, sweetheart! Everything go OK?”

The voice that rumbled through the speakers was low. Male. Vaguely paternal and with a hint of a Southern lilt.

You swallowed, knowing exactly where this was going.

You weren’t sure why you were even watching when you could already predict what would become of it. The camera panned over a body identical to yours; it landed on a face that was smiling and sweet and so like your own you almost had to question whether it might not be you after all. Had you somehow forgotten this secret porn alter ego in a bout of amnesia? You kept watching.

The girl bit her bottom lip and let out the phoniest giggle.

“Yes, sir. Perfectly fine. Do you like my new bikini?”

Be so fucking serious, you thought, critically.

Then you remembered it was porn, not an Oscar-winning film. You saw the camera tilt down to her tits, and you had to admit, she had a great rack. A bit nicer than yours.

For a beat, you wondered if Joel had thought the same.

You had to batter those thoughts away, because the next second brought a big, burly hand onto the screen. It reached for the girl with her perfect, perky breasts and it kneaded them softly. No further pretense or prelude was needed—they just jumped right in and let it happen, like this was a normal thing for a babysitter and a boss to do.

Maybe in some other universe it was. In a world where a girl your age could just smile, and bat her eyes, and let them roll back gently as a whimper crossed her lips and she begged him, ‘More, daddy, more!’ this was all okay.

The man squeezed the flesh harder. She whined, and he proceeded to push the red nylon aside and expose the whole expanse of her breast—and holy shit, even the nipple looked like yours. Your mouth opened wider, and for a moment, it was like you couldn’t breathe as you watched that old, sun-kissed hand fondle the breast of a girl who looked just like you. Who was peering up at a man who sounded almost like Joel, murmuring, ‘Attagirl.’

You’d heard your boss say that once.

It had been such a silly, off-handed thing that you doubted he even remembered saying it. But one time, you’d struggled to open the passenger door to his truck before he drove you home. Once you’d narrowly managed to pry it open and slide into your seat, he’d laughed and rumbled: ‘Attagirl.’ Your face had warmed.

Just like your cheeks were doing now, all hot and bothered and desperate to hear more. Presently, the man slid the top off of the girl’s chest, and her breasts hung freely. You could hear him groan behind the camera at the sight, and not too long after that, before he could reach to touch her tits again, she was crawling on her knees toward him. Shuffling easily and expertly across the lawn chair and undoing the belt, button, and zip of his pants in a matter of seconds. A hand smoothed over her head, and you could see her preen beneath his touch.

Before she’d even wrapped her lips around his cock, your stomach was churning. Your fingers were stirring from the mouse and moving gently—again, of their own volition, it seemed—toward the waistband of your own bottoms. It was sick, admittedly. So wrong to be wanting to touch yourself to the very same video your boss had indulged in himself, in the very same chair he had done the deed. But you couldn’t help it. Your fingers slipped under the the fabric of your shorts, then your bikini, then your throat let out the tiniest noise upon seeing a cock appear on-screen. It was abnormally large, of course.

Silently, you wondered if Joel’s might not look the same. Your stomach flipped as soon as the girl took it in her mouth, and your index and middle fingers landed on your clit. You barely needed to touch to feel a jolt of pleasure.

Her head bobbed up and down. You felt powerless to do anything else but rub. And circle. And moan the slightest bit when you saw her coat his length with her shiny spit.

You heard that your noises mirrored hers. You didn’t care. Really, it felt as though you were in a trance, and you couldn’t stop watching, or touching, until you’d had your fill. Like Mr. Miller had done himself. It was all too much.

Before you even realized it, five minutes had passed, the man and woman on-screen were shifting from oral to raw, penetrative sex, and you were nearing your peak. Right before the cock that had been lodged down the girl’s throat could slide into her wet, glistening cunt, you felt your stomach lurch. You rubbed harder, watching the fat and leaking tip of the man’s cock tease through her folds, and just as he was about to slide in and you could finally find your release…a door banged open downstairs.

You almost screamed.

As quickly as you could, you yanked your hand out of your pants and clicked out of that browser even faster. The second you heard footfalls on the steps, you scampered out of there. Half-sprinting, half-tip-toeing down the hall and toward the bathroom, before halting at the door. You made your presence known with one light stomp of your foot, pretending to be turning and walking out, and as soon as you did, Joel was right there. Staring.

Sweating.

Scrubbing at his face with one weary hand, before taking a rag and wiping it through his beard. He sighed heavily.

“Long day?” you chirped while trying to mask the panic.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Joel answered, voice wan, “How’s my little terror? Asleep? She give ya any trouble?”

Just asked me to buy her a toy online and inadvertently led me to find your internet Spank Bank archives full of women who look like me. Other than that, it was fine.

“I put her down about an hour ago. She was great.”

You forced a smile, and Joel seemed to believe it.

“Perfect. Need me to give you a ride home?”

“No, no, you should stay here with Sar—”

“‘S’alright. Tommy’s right downstairs.”

Of course he’d brought him home.

“No, really, I can walk. It’s fine—”

“Don’t be silly. C’mon, kiddo.”

Kiddo.

Kiddo.

The man had been jerking off to the thought of you for who knows how long, and now he called you ‘kiddo’?

You hated how arousing the nickname sounded from him

You despised yourself for rubbing your clit in his office.

Most of all, you loathed the way your panties had gotten wet the last time you’d climbed into his truck and heard that word crawl off of his old, drawling tongue: ‘Attagirl.’

Reluctantly, you nodded your head. You followed him downstairs and hoped the car door wouldn’t stick again.

He had to stop.

It was no longer a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’ his dick would lead him straight off a cliff, and today, Joel was starting to think that precipice was looking extra nice. Tempting.

Almost as inviting as the divot he could see at the small of your back, glimmering with a couple hot beads of sweat under the midafternoon sun. He swallowed.

Sarah was at camp today. You’d had the time to yourself, and the weather was blistering hot, and of course, where else would you be but his backyard? He’d told you ad nauseum, ever since you started babysitting his kid, that his pool was open to you whenever you so chose to go.

Presently, Joel wished he could revoke that invitation.

Seeing how you were flipped on your stomach, body all soft and warm and splayed out on one of his deck chairs—wearing that fucking red swimsuit, of all things—Joel was left to ogle from his office window, and inside, he felt like a certified pervert. Arguably, he was. His old, worn hands had all but glided to find his mouse as soon as he’d sat down at his desk and saw you out there, and no sooner had his cursor found Chrome than his cock started to stir. He’d wanted to watch. If not you in all your bare, sun-baked glory, then surely the woman he could see getting her throat and cunt stuffed on his screen.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Was he really that much of a gooner he couldn’t let his kid’s babysitter lounge outside without stroking his dick?

Shit. He had the bottle of lotion in one hand and the box of tissues in the other in no time at all. He ripped three free Kleenex aside and reached for his mouse once more.

He was pissed at himself. He toggled over to the Hub with a grunt, and in no time at all, had you pulled up.

Joel liked to pretend it was you, anyway.

If he couldn’t have the sweet young thing every swinging dick in this town would’ve killed to have himself, he could rub one out to a girl exactly like you. He could fantasize.

He could skip the video to 8:53 on the dot, as he always did, and he could rub himself raw. It wouldn’t take long.

He always fast-forwarded to that exact part, without fail, because she moaned like you then. He’d never forget it.

It had almost been six months since it happened, and he still remembered that sound as clear as day. You’d been hauling your backpack off the couch in the living room, having stuffed the thing full with more school supplies than you could feasibly carry, and Joel had been in the kitchen, unseen. You’d lifted the bag with effort, and once you had, you let out a soft but audible whine. You dropped the bag back down to your feet, and when you bent to try again, you’d moaned fully. It was like the stretch had made you feel good, or something. You’d huffed and managed to get the weight slung over your back with modest success, then left, but Joel had been changed. Too quickly had he retreated to his office and swore to find any clip where a moan sounded like that.

“Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eam—oh, OH!”

Granted, the dialogue was cheesy, but the sound after it was identical to the one you’d made. Joel repeated it.

He hadn’t even noticed, but he’d already lathered his hand and cock with lotion. He was scrubbing vigorously while your twin wiggled her hips and begged her co-star to put it in, to quit teasing her pussy like that, can’t you see I’m practically dripping for you, daddy? Look at it!

Unfortunately, Joel’s head was turned the other direction—away from the screen, and toward the window—watching you where you sat out on the lawn.

He stroked harder. He groaned.

You had just turned onto your back. Your tits looked incredible. Joel reckoned they’d look even better with his dick pushed up between them, and at the thought, his mouth watered. His lips were slightly parted, and he feared he might drool. What a sight he must have been then: jaw slack, lids heavy, cock in hand, and moan after moan bubbling out of his throat. He got closer to climax.

“Gonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.”

It wasn’t long after that that Joel heard the girl whine in pleasure—the man behind her had notched in the first inch and told her to behave—and meanwhile, he watched your chest rise and fall, rise and fall outside. It was calm. Unlike the girl being taught how to fuck poolside, you remained untouched. Spotless. Placid and serene while your hands picked up a magazine and began flipping through it. While Joel’s orgasm crested inside him, he wondered if you’d ever want to try something like that. Roleplay. Or would it be fake at all? Had you ever been touched by a man, shown the best ways to give and receive pleasure, or was it all brand new, like it was supposed to be for the woman on his screen? Joel panted, and he fucked his hand harder. He groaned.

“Oh, daddy, it’s so big! Feels so good going inside me!”

“You love gettin’ fucked by an older man, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy, yes! Please don’t stop—oh, OHHH!”

Joel wanted to be the only older man you had.

If he wasn’t the first, he sure as fuck could be the last. Give you all the dizzying, euphoric feelings your body deserved and stretch you open gently for the taking.

He could teach you so much, ruin you for any oth—

Shit.

What the fuck was this asshole doing here?

At the back gate, he saw his neighbor Dieter.

The man strolled across the lawn, and Joel’s orgasm receded in a blink. He was walking right over to you.

No. No, no, no. Joel released his dick from its vice grip and felt the thing twitch in indignation. Meanwhile, the sound of skin on skin continued to flood his eardrums from out of the computer speakers, where the happy babysitter-boss duo was hitting a brutal pace. The girl let out one over-the-top shriek of pleasure, and Joel clicked pause. He toggled out of the browser. Then he redirected his gaze out the office window, where his own girl was being accosted by Dieter. His blood boiled with anger.

Who did this creep think he was? The man never so much as looked Joel’s way or approached his property unless it was to ask to be ‘lent’ some booze or else ask after some friend, relative, or coworker Dieter wanted to be introduced to—he was perennially unemployed and a fuckboy bachelor to his core. The last Joel had heard, he’d spent the last year in Los Angeles, or Paris, or some other too-big city to chase his singing and acting dreams

And here he was now, hitting on his poor, defenseless babysitter. Joel wouldn’t stand for that in any world.

Though his dick was still erect, it had softened some, too. His rage facilitated that, and him shoving his length back in his jeans, zipping it up, and all but punching the desktop off made it spongier still. He walked like he was mad at the floor beneath his boots. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so defensive—he had just been rubbing one out to the sight of you less than five minutes ago—but now wasn’t the time for thinking. He had to act.

Protect, if he had to.

What if his neighbor wanted to go for a swim, too?

Joel would drown the man with his two bare hands if he so much as reached for your bikini-clad form. He stalked loudly down the hall and searched for a less sweaty shirt to wear, then some deodorant, then a comb. He peered in the bathroom mirror and saw his black-and-grey locks all out of sorts, and for a second, he contemplated taking a shower. You’d probably be able to smell his unsatisfied desire from outside. He looked, and felt, a bit unhinged.

Joel decided he didn’t care, before plodding downstairs.

Outside, you lay in the same position he’d seen you last. Your hand was shielding your face. You were smiling.

And beside you, Dieter was grinning even bigger.

Joel made a beeline down the porch steps, then across the lawn, like his life might’ve depended on it. Scowling.

“—but getting cast in Gladiator II would’ve been wild—”

Of course Dieter was yapping about his failed acting career. Of course. Joel could hear him drone on as he approached, though he didn’t register a word of what he said. Instead, he waved a hand. He feigned a calm tone:

“Dieter! How’s it going?”

And he slowed down, too.

Just as he drew in, his neighbor volleyed a look his way. Joel couldn’t miss how his smile twitched down a little.

“Joel.”

Accepting a cordial hand in greeting.

“Doing alright, how ‘bout yourself?”

Joel nodded fine, just fine and offered some offhand remark about not having seen him since last summer, and Dieter couldn’t resist the chance to puff up and mention a school he’d been attending. Joel didn’t hear it, or give a shit. His gaze was already trained on you. Your own flitted from Dieter, to Joel, then to Dieter again, and your lips were smiling kindly enough. You seem humored.

“Mr. Bravo just got back from Berlin,” you beamed.

Then Dieter met your look and shook his head.

“Dieter, sweetie, Dieter. Or Dee, if you want.”

Joel almost wanted to vomit in his mouth.

“Germany, huh? What brings you here?”

No sense in beating around the bush.

Joel meant to ask why Dieter was here, in his backyard, with his babysitter, of course. Why the fuck he was eyeing you like that, like your tits were two Emmys and the only way to earn it himself was to stare as long, and as hard, as possible. Joel cleared his throat instinctively.

Dieter blinked and cast a glance back to him.

“Oh, here. Yeah. I, um…I just wanted to see if you had that— that—” He snapped his fingers, “That leafblower.”

Leafblower?

He was so full of shit.

“My leafblower,” Joel repeated.

It was fucking July, for crying out loud.

Evidently, his neighbor didn’t seem to care. He met Joel’s gaze with an even look, and he nodded his head.

He doubled down: “Yeah, the leafblower. I’ve had some debris pile up in my yard since I’ve been gone, y’know.”

“Are you gonna be in Austin long? Or are you going back overseas once you’ve had that casting call?” you asked.

You cocked your head with genuine curiosity. Joel grit his teeth, but he tried not to let his discontent show anyplace else on his face. A muscle might’ve jumped when he saw how smugly Dieter smirked at your intrigue.

“Oh, I’ll be here long enough, don’t you worry,” he said.

That was it.

Joel gestured to the shed in the back corner of the yard, about to tell Dieter that the leafblower was in there, go knock yourself out, when his neighbor cut in once again.

“In the meantime, maybe I’ll have you babysit for me. I hate to steal Sarah’s pal, but maybe you can split your time between my place and Joel’s. What do you think?”

You blinked a little quicker, like you weren’t quite sure what to say at first. Joel took the chance to interject.

“You don’t have any kids, Bravo,” he practically growled.

“I know. I’ve got cats, though,” Dieter just grinned back, flitting a cheeky look to you. “And you have no idea how naughty those pussycats can get while a man’s away.”

That was really all Joel could take. He didn’t even let you answer; he just pointed to the shed and made a fist with his other hand at his side. His chest was heaving breaths.

“You and her can chat when she’s off the clock, how ‘bout that? Leafblower’s in the shed. Door’s unlocked.”

His words didn’t invite protest of any kind. Dense as he was, Dieter probably sensed that he’d ticked his neighbor off with the suggestive comment to his babysitter, and he backed away, both literally and figuratively. He bid a quick, cavalier goodbye with a shit-eating grin stretching his lips, and then he went to the storage shed and left.

You were still blinking, still creasing your brows tight, by the time the back gate had slammed shut behind him. You watched after him, teeth gnawing at your cheek.

“He seemed like a funny gu—”

“What do you think you’re doin’?”

Joel’s words appeared to sting like a slap in the face. You jerked your head back to him, seeming to say, ‘What?’

“You know what. Don’t play innocent now,” Joel griped.

You continued to stare, then started to shake your head.

“Mr. Miller—”

“Don’t Mr. Miller me, either,” he snapped, far shorter than he’d ever spoken to you before. His nostrils flared, “You’re old enough to know better. You did all of that.”

“All of what?” you shot back.

“Attracted men like Dieter into my yard.”

“He’s your neighbor! What do you expect?”

Offense marred your tone. He didn’t entirely blame you.

“No, no—he never sticks his nose over here unless he sees something he wants. You were flaunting yourself.”

At that, your mouth fell open.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Miller? Are you serious?”

“Language, young lady—”

“I don’t give a shit.” You stood up from your chair. Your eyes flashed with ire. Just like his hands had before, yours curled into fists. You stood your ground with him. “You invited me to come swim here whenever I wanted to. You did that, asshole. What did you expect me to sunbathe in, army fatigues and fucking combat boots?”

Joel blinked hard at that. He didn’t like being mocked.

“Still shouldn’t be that damn skimpy. And I said lang—”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, dad. Don’t act like you’re mine.”

Don’t act like you’re mine.

Joel’s chest tightened. His gaze seared into yours, almost as though he were as angry as you were now, but deep down, the man only felt remorse. Resentment. Whatever rage he harbored now was reserved for himself

He shouldn’t have gone there.

He shouldn’t have masked his own jealousy with pseudo paternal scolding. He looked like a dickhead doing that.

And you weren’t shy to let him know it in the slightest.

Presently, your finger was jabbed in his face. You were planted less than two feet from where he stood, and though you were noticeably dwarfed by his size, your next words had him beat by a foot, if he’d had to guess.

“I watch your kid, Joel. I am not your daughter. If you don’t want me hanging around here in my hot red bikini, then you can just say that. But don’t blame me for him.”

Joel bristled at your words, though he wasn’t sure why. When he opened his mouth to speak again, you added:

“And don’t blame me for that, either.”

Suddenly, he realized your finger was pointed at his legs.

Or, rather, what was poking up stiff between them.

Joel’s cheeks heated up to a thousand degrees.

You’d just caught him. You’d seen his arousal.

And you were turning on your heels again.

Before Joel could even try to summon the words to his tongue, you were grabbing your things. Shoving your shoes onto your feet. And Joel had only to stand there.

Feeling stupid and inert beside you.

As you went to the back gate, he somehow managed to call that you didn’t have a car, let him drive you back.

You didn’t even dignify his words with a verbal response.

You just raised your middle finger over your shoulder.

And then the gate crashed shut behind you.

You would be walking home that day.

Two big eyes and round cheeks were all you could see.

Then, they darted beneath the covers and were gone.

“Oh no, where’d sweet Sarah go?” you wondered aloud. Sitting at the edge of the bed and pretending not to see where she’d just dipped her head under the blankets, you furrowed your brows and proceeded to pat around you.

Everywhere you felt with your hands, you completely ignored the big lump under the duvet. It was a game.

A silly one at that—hide-and-go-seek was generally best left to places where you couldn’t figure out her location in the blink of an eye. But you played along. You heard a soft giggle. You continued feeling around the twin-sized mattress like this was the most bewildering puzzle of all.

“Whe-ere’s Sarah?” you sing-songed.

You heard a shuffling of limbs, a sniffle.

Your palm tapped right by those little feet.

And as soon as you did, she screamed. At four years old, Sarah hadn’t quite mastered the art of being stealthy.

You’d cut her some slack. You always had.

Blindly passing where her body lay, you glided to the opposite side of her bed and tapped inquiringly there.

“Is she…here?” You got a pillow.

“No!” Sarah shrieked back.

Such a helpful, obliging kid. She’d make a terrible spy.

“Is she…up here?” You rapped the headboard twice.

“No!!” she squealed.

You glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. It was approaching bedtime. Taking note of this, and knowing you couldn’t keep up with the charade for much longer, you let out a sigh. You stood from the bed, looked around the room with dramatic éclat, then started to walk away.

“Okay…I guess if Sarah’s not here I’ll have to leave…”

The second you said that, Sarah threw the covers back. She jumped up in bed, and she stomped her little feet.

“No! No! I’m here! I’m here!”

You spun on your heels, eyes wide with faux surprise.

“Sarah!”

And then you rushed back over, just in time to watch her drop to the bed and flash you a wide, exuberant smile.

“Your Sarah,” she corrected.

She adored it when you called her that. Your Sarah.

You nodded your head in agreement, “My Sarah. Sorry.”

She nodded too, like she’d just reminded you of the most important thing, and then she slipped back under her covers. She let you drag the purple duvet over her frame, all the way up to her chin, and when she was all snug inside, she gave another smile. She kicked her feet again.

“Stay,” she commanded, tone still sugar-sweet.

“I will, baby. ‘Til your daddy gets back, I’ll be here.”

“I mean forever!” Sarah dragged out the last syllable, and, not yet content with the answer you’d proffered, tried swaying you again, still more emphatic, “For-ever!”

If your daddy wasn’t such an ass, I might consider it.

Instead, you smiled back at her and shook your head. You smoothed the hair away from her face, then you leaned in and kissed her forehead with a gentle peck.

“Then my family would miss me. I gotta see them.”

“Says who?” Sarah’s pout was unmistakable.

Before you could reply, she cut in again.

“You can be my family. My mommy.”

Your throat constricted at those words. You weren’t sure what to say, or how to assuage your sweet Sarah then.

Again, you were about to open your mouth to speak, when your pint-sized companion piped up again. This time, her voice was softer. Surprisingly delicate and low.

“I want you to be my mommy,” she told you quietly, “Then you’ll live here. With me and daddy. And you’ll never have to go home again and we can play all day!”

Your heart ached. You kissed the tip of her nose and turned away, momentarily, to hide the hurt on your face.

Sarah Miller deserved much more in a mother than you.

When you looked up again, her grin was big. Hopeful.

“Don’t you wanna be my mommy too?” she asked.

“‘Course I do, baby,” you answered without hesitation, “But…don’t you think your daddy should have a say too?”

Somehow, her face got even brighter.

“He will! He— he…”

Sarah trailed off a second, as if considering her words. She didn’t understand what marriage meant. You’d help.

“Your daddy,” you finished for her, speaking slow and soft as you leaned in close, “is a good man who deserves a good woman to make your mommy. Don’t you agree?”

She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Yeah, but—”

“And a mommy’s gotta be someone he really loves.”

“But he…”

She was thinking again. You could tell. You pressed on.

“He is gonna find someone great someday. He’ll love you and her to bits, and y’all will get to play together all day.”

“But he loves you!” Sarah cried, at length.

A beat.

Your breath faltered.

The girl’s words had scarcely hung in the air for more than two seconds, and their meaning hardly registered in your brain before your own were coming out fast. Certain

“Your daddy doesn’t love me, baby. I’m just his friend.”

“Yes, he does! He told me so himself!”

Again, you shook your head.

“You misunderstood him, sweetie.”

You tried to smooth her hair back again, but Sarah’s head bucked away. She scrunched up her nose in clear protest and refused to let you cradle her face until she’d spoken her piece. When she did, her voice was pleading all over:

“Daddy loves you, he told me. You can be my mommy.”

And for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you felt your heart balloon in your chest. Your gut clenched—but not for the reasons she or you wanted it to. The truth was that you didn’t have the words to tell a four-year-old girl that her father didn’t love you like that at all, that his head and his heart were anywhere but with you, and that, if you were being honest, you were furious with him. How he could so much as hint at such nonsense was beyond you. His little girl dreamed of having a mother. It was stupid and senseless and cruel to even suggest that that woman could be you. You sighed.

But, despite your every thought and feeling to the contrary, you knew you had to soothe the girl with some small semblance of hope. Something to hold her over for the night, so she didn’t cry herself to sleep thinking that you didn’t want to be her mommy. Gently, you leaned in.

You lifted the covers back up from where they’d fallen. You tucked them snug around her torso, and you paused.

Your tone was measured and soft when you spoke next:

“I don’t know about your daddy, baby. What I do know is that I would be the luckiest lady alive to get to be your mommy, alright? I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

And you meant it. You saw one look light up her face, and every ounce of anger that had been provoked by her father was forgotten in an instant. Her grin ensured it.

“Anywhere,” she parroted back.

“Anywhere,” you said, again.

Then you kissed the crown of her head, wished her sweet dreams, cut the little light off. You left the room quietly.

It was only when you were out of there and far enough away down the hallway that your skin started to burn.

You couldn’t help it. Anger was fast to trickle back.

This feeling was only compounded when the next moment brought a sound to the landing on the stairs. You glanced over down the hall, muscles all tensing at once, and when you saw him there, it was as though your rage just bubbled over. Your jaw clenched; your stomach flipped in a way so decidedly unlike how it had done for him two days ago, in his office, and suddenly, your throat was working again. You kept your voice low this time, keen not to draw Sarah’s attention out there, but the words you used were clear. Quiet. Doubtlessly effective.

Even in the dark, you saw his brows jump when he heard:

“Joel, we need to talk.”

It had been two years since he’d had a woman in here.

Joel wished it were under any circumstances but these.

Presently, your eyes were ablaze. The two of you had just stepped into his room and shut the door behind you, and with the click of a latch, you hadn’t thought to hold it in:

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He blinked.

Well, many things.

Joel wouldn’t have had the space to explain it all if you’d given him a week, and still, he had to say something. He blinked again, made a sound in his throat as if to clear it, then shook his head. His shoulders sagged in his jacket.

“I…I’m sorry.”

For the other day. For getting caught up in his own anger and taking it out on you. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for now, or what he should say, but he thought it best to start there. He shrugged his jacket off and set it over the back of the nearest chair. He turned to you again, where you were standing with a warning look.

“Don’t say sorry to me,” you said. “Say sorry to Sarah.”

Sarah?

Before he could speak, you went on.

“You’re just setting her up for heartbreak, you know that? I mean how selfish— how stupid could you possibly be?”

You pursed your lips like tears might threaten if you didn’t. This caught him off guard—his daughter? What could he have said or done to hurt her in any of this?

“What are you talking about?”

“You said I’d be her mom, Joel!”

He winced. You furrowed your brows and set your mouth in a line—really trying to fight the emotion behind it—and, while all the rest of you bristled in anticipation for what was to come, Joel softened. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want to be the guy who lost his head at the thought of seeing you cry and forget the whole reason you were upset with him in the first place, but he couldn’t help it. Though you looked like you wanted to kill him right then, Joel drew closer. He shifted toward you.

“Did— did she, uh…call you…mommy?” he said, pained.

“Yeah. And you let her believe she could,” you spat.

He hadn’t meant to do that, either. Sarah had been calling you that for a while when you weren’t around to hear, and after enough times telling her otherwise, he’d just stopped correcting her on it. Sarah wanted a mother. You were the closest thing she had, and who was he to sabotage that? At the time, he’d just wanted to…pretend.

That was a running theme he had going with you.

Right now, you didn’t seem to care about that.

You just rolled your eyes in that cool, juvenile way when you didn’t hear a response from him, and he had to bite his tongue from saying something worse. He hated when you did that. It made him remember your age—the reality of you being his kid’s babysitter and how guilty he should feel for wanting to do something more about that eyeroll.

He wasn’t your father.

You weren’t Sarah’s mother, either.

You most certainly weren’t the girl on his computer screen, as much as he would’ve liked to see you that way, and even though you were standing here in his bedroom.

That was all fantasy. Make-believe. This was his reality.

You were visibly pissed and wouldn’t budge an inch.

“Is it really so bad if she says it?” he grit out.

Your eyes widened. You scoffed.

“Of course it is, Joel!”

You backed away.

He hated seeing that, too. He hated having you move from him, not toward him, wearing that scowl on your lips as you did. His fingers twitched—itched—at his side.

“Sarah’s young. She doesn’t…mean anything by it. She’ll grow out of it soon enough. And I don’t want to hurt her.”

“You’ll hurt her even worse by not telling her the truth!” you snapped. You sounded exasperated saying it now. “We’re not a family. I’m the goddamn babysitter, and— and— you’re Sarah’s father. Act like it, for Christ’s sake.”

That set his teeth on edge.

Joel felt the urge to fight back, but narrowly refrained. He flexed his fingers, and he bit down hard to keep the vitriol at bay. Because that was exactly what fathers did. They controlled their anger; even when faced with a smart-mouthed babysitter who wore his patience out.

Even when your arms were folded over your chest in that impossibly tight, white tank, and your tits looked like they might spill from the fabric at any given moment. Joel swallowed and refocused his gaze before going on.

“Don’t tell me how to be a father.”

Something flared in your eyes.

“Why? I’m fucking right.”

“Language, young lady.”

That only seemed to irk you worse; your hands flew up.

“Yeah, well,” you started, accusing, “If we’re playing house, I might as well be allowed to say what I like.”

“We are not playing hous—”

“But you want to, right? That’s why I’m always here.”

“No, I need a—”

“Maid? Mommy?”

You paced closer. Joel’s jaw clenched.

“Obedient little housewife?” you sneered.

Your eyes were shining like two derisive pools. With every blink, you seemed to mock him more. Goad him on and beg for your reward, though you hardly knew what it was.

“C’mon, Mr. Miller,” you chided, voice low, “What is it?”

What he was, or what he’d stand to take. It wasn’t this.

“Keep runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth, I’ll show you what.”

The words flew off his tongue before he could stop them.

It was a reflex—something that had been stewing in his mind since the second you’d set foot in his room and went on provoking him. But it was wrong, of course.

He was wrong for even thinking it, much less saying it.

Now your eyes were round, and your mouth was slightly agape, and your brain was likely working a thousand miles a minute to process what had just been said.

Joel had to fix it.

“That— that ain’t—” he began, already hating himself.

To his surprise, and embarrassment, a laugh rang out.

Its sound was explosive and short. It split the air with such hot, bitter force that his words dropped off. His gaze had no choice but to remain plastered on yours.

“Oh, I bet.”

You grinned, humorless.

You didn’t appear shocked in the slightest. In fact, his remark seemed only to embolden you then, as you teased that smile wider, drew yourself closer, and tipped your chin up. You looked doubly enlivened by his last admission. Vindicated in some strange, inexplicable way. Your breaths were warm, and the swell of your breasts came to hover just inches from his chest when the last thing he needed to happen, happened between you next.

You pointed again. Joel didn’t need to look down.

“‘Don’t tell me how to be a father,’” you repeated his words from before, voice taking on a low, faux baritone.

Your amusement was clear. His cock was hard.

It seemed you’d never let the latter slip past you.

“Is that what we’re gettin’ at here, Mr. Miller?” you asked, tone now precocious. Probing, “You showing me what a great daddy you are, and me being the mommy you al—”

“No.”

Joel pushed off. He didn’t want to hear another thing.

He headed straight for the door, prepared to usher you out of it. This conversation had taken an irreparable turn.

When he reached for the handle, though, he had to stop. Your voice made him stop, echoing from the opposite end of the room. Joel turned, and he saw you on his bed.

“I’m just curious. Is that really what you meant?”

You were sitting at the foot of it, legs casually hanging off. Your look was innocent, and still more knowing than Joel could bear. The heat left to swirl in his groin nearly suffocated him below the waist, and he inhaled deeply.

“Mean what? I didn’t…mean anything.”

His touch fell from the doorknob all the same.

Your feet were swinging when he faced you completely.

“Just like you didn’t mean for Sarah to call me mommy?”

Maybe he had meant it more than he let on. He couldn’t answer. Joel felt every bit the creep he knew himself to be—decades your senior and letting you rest on his bed, soft, smooth legs kicking back and forth as he watched.

He was good at that, wasn’t he? Watching. Waiting. Aching from the comfort of his home office while he watched those filthy clips on repeat, images of you flitting through his mind at every stretch, moan, and whimper. His will was powerless to his perverted needs. He had only to defend himself against their influence by planting his feet firmly in place and refusing to move.

“You wanna teach me, though. Don’t you, daddy?”

It was as though your words reached him from another place. Somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind—his memory—and the tone of it stirred him. It was familiar, in ways you couldn’t have possibly understood. Unless you were living in his head, there was no way in hell you could’ve known what those lines meant to him.

‘Gonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.’

It made him ache.

Joel still wouldn’t move, but you could come to him.

He blinked once, and you were there. Off the bed. Walking to him. Down on your knees in front of him.

This had to be the work of his own sick imagination.

He groaned at just the sight of your smile, curving slow.

And then you peeled off your top, revealing the bright, nylon, cherry-red fabric he’d seen far too many times on his computer screen and off it—on you, by his pool. Joel sucked in a breath and shook his head, gaze darkening.

“Thought you didn’t wanna play mommy,” he growled.

If this was all just in his head, he could talk as he wanted.

“I don’t,” you answered him soberly. Suddenly, your chin was in his hand. Your eyes were still glistening up at him. “But you need to get this out of your system. Just once.”

Out of his system.

Joel was out of his fucking mind with desire.

“Just once?” His voice cracked as he said it.

Only one time. That was alright. Forgivable.

From what he half-believed to be a figment of his own perverted mind came the word from your lips: ‘Once.’

The next had the thumb that was cupping your chin slipping between those same lips. Still smiling while your mouth slid down to his knuckle. You sucked him gently.

And in just one glimpse, one fleeting second on that lone, thick thumb, the sight below him had every other obscene thing entrenched in his memory beat by a mile. You were better than everything else he’d seen or tried to dream up. You were real, he hoped, sliding your shiny wet lips up and down the surface of his skin, and when you pried them off, and you asked for his cock, he had no choice but to oblige. He had to rack his brain for words.

This was his babysitter, his daughter’s companion, his—

“Sweet fuckin’ girl,” he said when he first felt you there.

Before he even knew what became of his belt, buckle, and zip, the base of his cock was in your hand, and your lips were hovering precariously over the tip. Your breaths were soft and hot. Your graze drank him in with curiosity.

“Should I kiss you here, daddy?” Your mouth lowered.

“Right there, sweetie,” Joel breathed out.

He truly couldn’t believe it when the warmth of you enveloped his tip. When the first lick of your tongue came to collect the bead of precum sitting at the slit and he damn near bucked his hips up. You licked at it again.

And again. And again. And again.

You whimpered lightly, enjoying the taste.

The second you pulled your mouth away, Joel hissed.

“Baby, please—” he started, tone strained.

“What? Where does daddy want it?”

The question was so innocent.

It was clear you wanted to hear him guide you through it, as evidenced by the way your lips twitched at his hand smoothing down and over the crown of your head. Joel held it like he might never get this chance again, and, at once, his voice lowered along with it. He scarcely recognized himself with how gently he spoke then.

“Let daddy show you,” he said, “Open your mouth.”

And you did.

Your jaw fell slack, your lips split apart, and your eyes peered up with a wide and open stare. In a look, you seemed already to say that you trusted him to fill it.

No sight on a screen could’ve made him so hard.

He fed you an inch, eyes locked with yours as he did. His cock slid in another, and another, then stopped. He pulled back. The wetness and the warmth of your mouth nearly did him in, and the way you whined for more had him fisting your hair tight. Trying to keep his composure.

“That alright, honey? Feel…nice goin’ in?”

“Yes, daddy,” you hummed obediently.

Your mouth opened wider.

“More, please?”

Your tongue was flattened in a second. Joel slid back in, and his shaft was greeted by the slick, shiny cushion of the muscle underneath. He sank in. He invaded every inch of your mouth he could find, and he breathed out.

“Just like that, sweetie. Takin’ daddy so well.”

What little gurgles he heard stifled between your lips at that, spit drooling gently from either side, he only found more endearing. When he pulled back and saw strings of your spit trail after its path, he felt delirious. You were real, coating the whole throbbing length of his cock with your saliva and your precious soft whines, and you were sweet for him. Pliant for his cock. Jaw obliging and inviting and hanging wide open for him to fuck again.

He let you have it. He slid in once, grazed your throat, slid out again. He cupped your face in his hands and thumbed your cheeks. He coaxed your lips wider for him. You took it all well; you responded to every tender little directive from the man who was stuffing your mouth, ‘Faster now, atta girl’ and ‘Take daddy deeper’ and ‘Keep that pretty mouth open and those eyes on me.’ Joel was so caught up in the feel and the friction and the intimacy of every passing moment that he almost didn’t see when you started to shift your legs. Parting them.

And, right when the head of his cock had reached the back of your mouth and was teasing down your wet, open throat, he felt it fully: your whimpering plea.

You grinding your cunt against the toe of his boot, and peering up at him with eyes all wet, wide, and needy.

You rutted your hips. It looked like you couldn’t help it.

It seemed as though it were a mere spasm of the body that you couldn’t control—like his cock down your throat was too good for your sense or your oversexed mind to handle. He’d scarcely stirred in place when he felt you humping him, whines rippling down his length with every bob of your head as you keened for some kind of release.

Joel had never seen anything like it. He didn’t know what to say or do except stroke his hand over your scalp and pin you with a look. His cock twitched in your mouth.

“Is that how we ask to get fucked in this house?”

His tone surprised him with how steady it stayed.

Your mouth still full of him, you tried to shake your head.

What came next was more instinct than logical thought; Joel pulled you off his cock and onto your feet. His touch on your body was soft. He couldn’t pinpoint a reason for his being so gentle, but every second that elapsed now seemed to demand it. He was teaching you to please. There could be no better place for kindness than here.

He’d lead you to the bed and guide you down himself. He’d tell you to open your mouth and then he would kiss it, and lick inside it. Maybe spit inside it, too. He’d tug at your bikini straps, watch your breasts give way to the pressure of the pull before bouncing right back in place. He’d take off your top. Latch his mouth around a nipple, swirl his tongue across the skin, and he’d kiss you again.

Joel did all these things, and you let him. You met him with whimpers, with wide open legs, and eventually, with your feet digging into the covers beneath you, begging, ‘Daddy, please put it in.’ Your gaze was febrile as you did.

Whether you meant it, or were simply pretending for him, gave Joel pause. Just as you’d tried to yank your jean shorts down your legs, he dropped his hands to your own. He stopped them in their path. He leaned closer.

“Do you know what you and me are about to do, hm?”

His question was barbed but sweet. Testing the waters.

Were you game to keep playing house? Did you want it?

These things mattered to Joel; whether the wetness between your legs was meant for him and him alone. Whether you needed him there, like the breath in your lungs. He wouldn’t fuck you if he wasn’t. He might feel lonely at times—desperate to feel your cunt squeeze his too-old cock like your life depended on it—but he was a man who wanted to be wanted, too. An instant of clarity hit, and suddenly he was asking it, plain and in your face:

“Do you wanna do what mommies and daddies do?”

Your mouth fell slack. Again. You nodded.

Either you were the single best actress, or you wanted it. Hoping desperately for the latter, Joel kissed the side of your face. You turned your head, quickly, and captured his lips in yours instead. You pulled him down to you.

“Like this?” you murmured, words muffled against him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and then ground your clothed lower half with his—Joel’s cock was tucked haphazardly back in his boxers, and his jeans, unzipped, hung just underneath them around his hips. He felt like a teen again, clothes thrown askew and hormones all wild.

Except he wasn’t. He was a grown man, in his own bed, with his child fast asleep down the hall. He thanked his lucky stars that their rooms were as far apart as possible, and that he no longer had to worry about the prying eyes of his mom or dad trying to catch him out after curfew. This wasn’t high school, or a night out in college, or the time a condom had split and Sarah had been conceived.

Now if he could just make sure she didn’t get a sibling…

Kidding.

“Pill,” Joel choked out, just as your legs drew him in to meet your movements, “Are— are you on the pill, or—”

Am I going to have to hit up a Texaco at 10 PM to get some rubbers and admit I haven’t gotten laid in a year?

You grinned.

“IUD.”

That works, too.

Joel probably shouldn’t have seemed so eager. He probably shouldn’t have taken your face in his hands and kissed you so hard, either. But his skin was ablaze; his eyes were wild; his limbs were molten; and his head—you didn’t want to know where it was. What he was thinking.

What he wanted to tell you while he tugged his cock back out and started working his hand up and down it. It felt too intimate, too depraved, to be spoken aloud.

Then, to his shock, you said the words yourself:

“Show me how you’d make me a mommy anyway.”

If not for protection. If not for common sense. If not for that thrumming, pulsing, warning repetition in his head: Do not get her pregnant. Do not give your kid a sibling.

But this was all pretend, wasn’t it?

Joel yanked down your shorts, practically tore them from your legs, and situated himself between them, breathing hard and fast, before he nodded his head and kissed you. With his one free hand, he held the base of his dick, and he guided it closer to your slick, puffy, aching entrance through the barrier of your red bikini. He rutted his hips.

You were bare beneath him, save for that one scrap of fabric between your lower half and his. You smiled, and you wriggled your body against his, and you drew him in. Joel groaned when he felt you slide your bottoms to the slide and let him feel, for the first time, how wet you were. How warm, inviting, and tight that cunt must be and how badly he needed it. How desperately he had to be buried inside that heat—he all but panted the words:

“Can daddy put it in?”

You spread your legs wider. You nodded.

Then he did. Without one breath of a thought to the contrary, he pushed the head of himself past the fabric, through your folds, into that wet and precious spot he’d only dreamed he’d ever feel, and he let out a full-throated moan. He felt your walls contract, heard the tender little squelch of your body making room for his length, and he damn near blew his whole load right there. You felt good.

Your chest rose with a breath, and your eyes widened.

Like you hadn’t just had him down your throat, drenched in your spit and gliding in and out: “He’s so big, daddy.”

Joel’s lips kissed your cheek. His tip kissed your cervix. You whined a little, and he pulled you in closer to him.

“I know, honey, I know,” he cooed, rocking you with the softest motions, “Ain’t that what mommy likes, though?”

Your lips parted again. A strangled whine of assent slid out, just as his hips withdrew himself back to that shiny, bulbous head, and then he fucked back in. Back and forth, back and forth, Joel sent your body bouncing with every thrust. He felt you clench, and the strokes sped up.

The bed creaked underneath. It seemed to shake the whole room. In truth, there wasn’t a thought in Joel’s head except for the ones relating to you and how good you took his cock, but somewhere, not far off, there was the instinct of a father idling too. With every stab of the headboard against the wall and every moan of yours under him he had to smother with his lips, he was reminded you two had to be quiet. He leaned in.

Grazing your ear with a stubbled chin, and fucking you gently into his bed, Joel sank his weight even lower.

“Can mommy stay real quiet for daddy? Can she try?”

From the way your eyes were glazed, he expected you to nod. And you did, just barely, heels digging in the mound of his ass and your fingers finding his sides. But then you slid a touch up his ribs; you squeezed the flesh. You let him pound your cunt for a few more precious seconds, and just when he thought that was the end of it, you tilted your head to him. Your nose bumped his, and you grinned, flashing the single most pretty, fucked-out look.

“Feels like a fucking dream, daddy,” you breathed.

Joel balked. He almost stopped right then and there.

Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eam—oh, OH!

Oh.

You couldn’t have known that.

There was no shot you knew where the fuck those words were from. Or what they meant. Joel furrowed his brow and kept rutting his hips, hands tightening in the sheets beside your head as the scene from his naughty all-time favorite film flickered briefly through his mind. No shot.

Then your legs wound around the backs of his even tighter, and your eyes were all but shining with a fresh, twisted glint. With a measured tone, you went on for him:

“He’s so big, daddy. Feels so good going inside me.”

You even mimicked her tone. Joel paled above you.

His hips stalled a moment, and your cunt hugged him tight. Your teeth nipped at his chin, playfully, and before he could even try to speak again, your lips were there.

At his ear, whispering what he’d dreaded hearing most.

“You should really clear those PornHub searches after you’re done. Or at least lock your office while I’m here.”

Joel’s thrusts stopped completely.

He was about to search for his voice again, when your walls clamped down around him, and his vision went swimming. His cock pulsed inside you, and he groaned.

Then his hips picked up; it wasn’t a conscious decision. He just needed to fuck, needed to finish, needed to see the light twinkle and burst behind your eyes while he stuffed your cunt full. It didn’t matter what you knew—your lips were curled in such a sweet, smug smile below him, there was likely no use in trying to explain himself now. Joel just gritted his teeth, and he tried smiling back. He fucked you faster, and harder, than he’d done before.

When you clawed at his back, the pace grew merciless. Every inch of the space around him, it seemed, was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, whimpers, and moans. As before, Joel almost didn’t recognize his voice.

‘That so?’ was all it could manage to get out at present.

With your cunt fluttering repeatedly, hips rolling with his own, and those lips letting moans spill out one after the next, it was all he could do to try to keep his composure.

Joel kissed you, and then he flipped your body around. He moved back to find the headboard and rest himself against it, got your legs straddling his, and slid you down

Down, down, down on his cock. Stretching you out. Then moving you back up again. Making you bounce in his lap and have your hands fumble to find his shoulders. You squeezed his biceps and moaned, and at the same time, his slick-smeared lower half rutted to greet yours. Your essence drenched him; he could feel it soak straight through the black-and-gray hairs at the base of his cock.

You looked perfect like this—better than any girl on camera could’ve been. Your hips rolled, and you moaned while sliding up and down on his dick, again and again. Joel felt the trembling pulse through your body and his, groaned at the grip of your cunt around him, and helped you ride him. With one hand at the small of your back and the other cupping your face, he held you close to him. Your pace quickened, and the hand at your chin made its way to your throat, to hold you firmly there.

Joel had a thumb on your pulse and his eyes raking over your writhing form when he felt compelled to talk again.

Share a truth, since all the rest was coming out anyway.

He didn’t think so much as feel it flow from there, like the blood rushing through his veins. Joel winced at a fresh influx of pleasure and let you grind on him twice more. Then he was gripping you tighter, fucking up into you harder, and he was skimming his teeth along your skin. As a knot coiled deep within his stomach, he let it out:

“Wanna cum inside this pussy, baby. Fill her up with me.”

The head of his cock struck a dizzying blow to someplace close to your cervix, and you held him tighter.

“Yeah, Mr. Miller?” You couldn’t help the teasing tone.

You fought a breathless laugh, then were forced to suck in a gasp of air just as quick; his length sheathed itself inside you completely, and Joel’s grip constricted on your throat. He kissed you. He lapped his tongue into your mouth while he fucked up into you, again and again.

You whined, and he mumbled against you, “That’s right.”

You hissed at him deep in your guts, and he went on:

“Gonna stuff her full. Make her wet and messy and drippin’ with me. Show mommy how much daddy lov—”

He cut himself short. His balls were heavy, full, and ready to paint you white, but that line was a touch too far, even now. He couldn’t say it outright and not sound like a fucking creep, no matter how deep in this roleplay you happened to be. Joel squeezed your hips and grunted.

And, for what felt like the fifteenth time that night, you surprised him. Your chin tilted to his, your lips brushed against his mouth, and you smiled, again. It was tender.

“How much does daddy love me, hm? Show me.”

Your walls clenched at the end of the last sentence, and Joel couldn’t help but groan in your mouth. His eyes lifted to yours, and in your gaze, he found anything but incredulity—you already knew what he felt, somehow.

“Sarah tell you that, too? That I love you?” he growled.

He’d said it once. At the time, he hadn’t thought he’d meant it at all, but the words just sounded so good when it came to you. Sarah had asked him if he’d wanted you to be her mommy someday, if he loved you like a daddy loves a mommy, and he’d said he did. Looking back, it hadn’t felt half as good as it did right now: peering into your eyes, feeling your warmth swallow him whole, and sensing you were nearing your climax, all because of him. It made him want to say it over again, now face-to-face.

Be it roleplay, fantasy, fixation—he needed to say it now.

“Daddy does love you,” he went on, before you could even respond. His pelvis rutted against yours, and his gaze stayed steeped in desire as he felt you grip harder, “Loves you so damn much he wants to stuff a big load in that pretty little cunt. Make you his. That alright by you?”

Your gaze went blank in an instant. Your lips twitched.

Something delectably wet, tight, and far too tempting shuddered someplace inside you, and with pride, Joel sensed the remnants of it leak out and smear his tummy. You liked that idea. Still, you seemed hesitant as your teeth snagged your bottom lip between them. You drew one steadying breath, and you slowed your movements.

“I’ve never…had that,” you admitted quietly.

Then that sticky-sweet embrace your cunt held him in got even wetter. Like your mind wasn’t fully on-board, but your body was all in. You were close, by the feel of it.

But Joel would only give what you were fully ready to take. At length, he lowered one hand to the small of your back, and his thumb rubbed at the skin. He let you feel him in only the shallowest of strokes, bouncing you softly

“Ain’t gotta be inside, then,” he murmured, assuring, “I’ll shoot this load wherever mommy tells me to go, alright?”

That made you whimper.

From there, your mind seemed to be decided all at once.

“Cum inside. I-I want it.”

Joel swallowed thickly.

“You sure, sugar? I can—”

Suddenly, your hips were stirring. They started up quicker than before, and your hand was swift to plant itself flat on his chest, as though to stabilize yourself.

“Cum. In. Me.”

It was the most decisive, and desperate, you’d sounded all night. Your gaze flitted to his, and in it, he saw a plea.

With a look like that, Joel knew he couldn’t make you wait. He wouldn’t make you wait. Trying not to smirk as he did, he leaned in and kissed you, and felt you drip more arousal as something knotted in your belly. He smoothed your hair away and delivered the gentlest thrusts from below—he knew it wouldn’t take much.

“Mama goes first,” he prodded. He felt you tense, and clench, and leak a little more down his front, and when the head of cock nicked a soft ridge, he groaned, too. “Cum for daddy now and he’ll give you his load, OK?”

Then his touch slipped between your legs. You keened.

“Daddy, I—” you hiccuped, grip tightening like a vice when his thumb found your clit and started rubbing.

Joel circled faster.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

“I can’t,” you cried, “Feels too—”

Good. Your body seemed to finish for you.

It started with a pulse. Then a pinch. A trickling warmth. Joel hardly knew what else to do but keep rubbing that little pearl between your folds, even when you started to gush around his hand. It wet his tummy; it drenched all the hairs around the base of his cock, and still, he kept thumbing your clit and rocking you back and forth above him. He let you cry out and bite his shoulder while your climax tore through you, and though he knew you had to be quiet, he couldn’t help but relish the sound. He smiled

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Give it to daddy.”

And, while he also told you to keep breathing and let him have it all, he was right here—in a matter of seconds, he was slipping off, too. He couldn’t hope to try and stop it. With one more pulse of your walls, you groaned and got your wet, spent, needy hole stuffed full of him, just how you’d asked. Joel flooded your insides with his seed and kept you fucked straight down to the hilt so he wouldn’t see a drop of himself escape. He hugged you tight and heard you whine at that primal sensation, getting pumped with rope after rope of his cum, then he felt your limbs go limp. Joel kissed the side of your face. He cradled you, held you securely in place, and let the last of his spend paint your walls in a couple more gentle spurts

When it was over, he stroked your back. He sensed the aftershocks of your climax pass through your tired frame, and he made sure not to rock you too hard against him. He just wanted you to feel that he was there, if the heft of his cum and his cock still deep inside you wasn’t enough.

His head grew clearer, too. While still drawing short, ragged breaths in time, he managed to find the words that had evaded him before—what he should’ve said.

“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled into your hair.

You just nuzzled your face deeper.

“Don’t be.”

“But I—”

Then you tilted your head—enough for your gaze to meet with his, briefly, and tell him all that he needed to hear.

“You’re a good dad, Joel.”

He opened his mouth, but you were already pressing on.

“And I don’t…mind if Sarah calls me what she wants for now. I’m sure you’ll find someone great to be her mom someday, and then this whole thing won’t even matter.”

For some reason, the sound of it made Joel wince.

He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but he knew he didn’t want you thinking that. His grip constricted around you.

“No,” he muttered, indistinct. Defiant.

“No?”

You almost laughed.

It was insane, admittedly—just last night he’d been dreaming of the feel of you in the grip of his fist, wishing for nothing but his own release and a fleeting thought of your body underneath him, and here he was, doing this.

You’d said it was a one-and-done deal, and maybe it was.

But for him, maybe, it wasn’t. He’d be remiss not to try.

If you shot him down and left him to pine and meander through the manifold archives of PornHub for the rest of his horny life, that would be alright. At least he had tried.

With these thoughts thrumming through his brain, Joel was about to pull you closer and venture to speak again, when, for the second time, his words were cut short. His voice was presently supplanted by a sound that startled you both, and in a moment, he recognized what it was.

A knock.

“Da-a-a-a-a-a-addy?”

Shit.

He nearly caught a knee to the gut with how quickly you tried scrambling off his lap, limbs revived and frantic and desperate to get your clothes back on before that tiny voice could resume its speech—or get a hand to the door

“Yeah, sweetie? Give— give daddy a—” ‘Fuck!’ he cursed under his breath as he tripped over your shorts on the floor, “—a minute. I’ll be right there. Just gimme a sec.”

Joel fell. You floundered. His hand snagged the edge of the bed before he hit the ground fully, while you set off across the room to fight the strings of your bikini top and wrestle the thing on. The second you sensed that battle was lost, you grabbed your shirt instead. You were just yanking it on, and Joel was just regaining his bearings and about to chuck your shorts your way, when a voice through the door stopped the two of you cold—again.

To your horror, it was hopeful. Too sweet to be real.

“Can I sleep with you and mommy tonight?”

You could’ve soundly beat Joel’s ass with that pretty, skimpy swimsuit in your grasp and not regretted a thing, if he had to guess by the look you were flashing him now.

He didn’t blame you. His hands shot up in silent defense.

“Mommy— mommy’s not here, honey. She went home.” Joel shortly tried, and failed, to keep the pretense of innocence alive, all while dodging the first swing of your bikini’s bra at his head. He ducked; you struck a lamp.

He jumped back, a wordless grin stretching his lips as he righted that fixture fast. With one look, it seemed to say:

I’m so, so sorry, baby.

But inside his head, he couldn’t help but admit this was a little bit funny. Probably sensing this, you swung again.

“Yes, she is! I heard her,” Sarah huffed outside.

Joel was sliding up his jeans. Apologizing with his eyes and also trying not to crack an even bigger smile at you.

“Don’t be silly, Sar—”

“You’re having a sleepover!” she accused.

Well, in a manner of speaking.

Joel had just buckled his belt and redid his zip when a flash of red nylon smacked him in the face. Playfully.

You were evidently beginning to fight a grin like his, dropping the feigned indignation and pacing closer.

“Sleeping my ass—” you started in a whisper.

And you were about to chase him again, or else propose jumping from the window to get out now and save face, maybe, when Joel felt an old, familiar feeling crop up inside him. Like before, it wasn’t the kind of urge he could fight; his instincts took over, and he did it swiftly.

Admittedly, the timing was terrible—but he kissed you.

He pressed his lips to your own and relished the feeling. He grabbed both sides of your face and walked you back to the bed—the same one drenched in sweat and your release, which he’d definitely need to change in a minute—and for a fleeting moment, it was all he needed. Your mouth was on his, grinning a little and promising silently that if Sarah ever does walk in on us, I’m gonna kill you.

Against his better judgment, he pushed you back on the bed. He dropped his weight over your body and kept the kiss ongoing, feeling need surge inside for something far beyond the physical. It couldn’t be ‘one-and-done’ here.

But for now, at least, in spite of his feelings, it had to be.

Joel didn’t want to let go or stop kissing, but the next second left no room for much else, unfortunately. His daughter’s voice returned, and the words that followed proved impossible to ignore, for either one of you then.

All color drained from his face, and your eyes widened.

“I heard mommy screaming before. Is she alright?”

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

cw - yandere behavior, choso doing perverted stuff, bondage, problematic behaviors, smut, mdni, not proofread

imagining you and sick pervert!choso being roommates in an apartment together.

sick pervert!choso doesn’t like when you leave the apartment. he has some form of separation anxiety when it comes to you, but actually, he just loathes the idea that other people are getting to see you when he can’t.

sick pervert!choso who sets a curfew for you to help “ease his worries”. you agree because you like the fact that someone is watching out for you.

sick pervert!choso who ties you up to his bed when you break curfew one night. he doesn’t even touch you inappropriately. he just keeps you right where you belong: in his room.

sick pervert!choso who coos sweet condescending words to you while you’re tied up in his bed. “you know why i had to tie you up, don’t you?” you swallow thickly and nod your head. your eyes are glassed over from tears and the alcohol you had consumed earlier in the night.

sick pervert!choso who assures you that he forgives you for staying out past curfew. “it’s okay, baby. don’t cry. i just needed you to stay here with me for a little while, okay?”

sick pervert!choso who keeps you tied up until the next morning. he only unties you to lead you to the bathroom. he cares for you so tenderly as you shower and brush your teeth, but it’s right back to being tied down to the bed after your little break.

sick pervert!choso who admires you while you sleep. he loves how soft and vulnerable you look. it makes his dick twitch in his boxers, and he doesn’t understand why. he just knows he has to take his own bathroom break now.

sick pervert!choso who finally lets you go after a full day of being tied up, but he gives you big puppy dog eyes the moment you try to go to your own room, so of course, you sit with him and let him kiss the rope burns on your wrists.

sick pervert!choso who has a love/hate relationship with your job. he hates the fact that he has to share you with your job, and he hates that other men get to look at you while you work. what if they start getting the idea that they actually have a chance with you? then, choso will have to kick their teeth in :(

sick pervert!choso who also loves the time you’re gone sometimes because that’s when he gets to go shopping in your room! he breaks in, and he only steals a few things… like your used panties.

sick pervert!choso who will spray your perfume against his pillows while your gone. he will have a pillow with your perfume shoved against his nose while he chokes his throbbing cock with your panties.

sick pervert!choso who makes it a mission to fuck all of your used panties, leaving behind globs of cum in the crotch portion as he cries out your name however loud he wants to because you’re at your stupid job.

sick pervert!choso who noticed you’re taking far too long at work one evening. he’s blown up your phone with texts, and he finally checks the apple tag on your car that he accidentally left behind between the seats. you’re at a bar… without notifying him first.

sick pervert!choso who paces around the apartment all night, debating on just showing up at the bar, but he knows you’ll be upset with him for stalking you. his heart leaps into his throat as he hears the door open up.

sick pervert!choso has your back pressed against the door in record time. his nose is buried in your neck and shoulder as he’s trying to smell for anyone else’s scent on you. “where were you, baby? i was worried…”

“my boss brought us all out for drinks since we hit a big deadline, chocho. i’m sorry. my phone died.” you say as you rub his back, trying to soothe him from how tore up he was.

sick pervert!choso who leads you up to his room anyways to tie you up. you should’ve known better than to keep him worried and waiting like this! now he’s all pent up with too much possessive energy… he needs to see you bound to his bed to ease his anxiety.

sick pervert!choso forgot to hide the evidence of his activities all day. a few pairs of your panties are scattered around the floor, and he immediately tries to do damage control, but it’s too late. you already saw them.

“chocho, is this why my panties always go missing?” you ask as you pick up your favorite white cotton pair. you hold up the pair for him to stare at it with guilt in his eyes.

“i try to always return them!” he says with a small pout. “they smell like you. it helps me…”

sick pervert!choso who’s terrified that you’re going to give him a look of disgust. he knows that you’re going to hate him forever for being so sick and demented. he doesn’t want to have to, but he will drug you to keep you here with him. he loves that you stay willingly, but he’ll do whatever he has to do to keep you by his side.

“you do this while i’m at work?” you ask slowly. choso can’t see an ounce of disgust in your face.. only curiosity and something he can’t quite put his finger on.

after gathering his confidence, he finally nods his head, “and sometimes while you’re asleep…”

sick pervert!choso who’s awe struck when he watches you slide your panties out from underneath that sinful pencil skirt you wear to work. he’s nearly drooling out of his mouth as he looks at the pink lacy fabric.

“you want them?” you coax, and he’s quick to nod. the thought of being able to feel and smell them while they’re still fresh and warm… he’s about to cum in his pants from the thought.

“i’ll give them to you if you agree not to tie me up tonight,” you bargain with a knowing smile. “i also want to watch,”

holy shit. sick pervert!choso’s heart is hammering through his chest. this is like a fantasy come true. he reaches out and takes the panties from you, and he’s quick to hold them over his nose.

he groans and palms his throbbing dick through his pants as your scent fills his nose. he takes another deep breath, committing the scent of your pussy to his memory. he’s never experienced anything this divine in his life.

you sit on his computer chair as you watch your roommate fall apart over a simple pair of your panties.

you cross your legs together, watching as choso’s eyes are resting on you. he pulls out his massive cock, and be strangles the lacy pink fabric over it. he then slowly wraps his hand around the pace, and he fucks himself into your panties.

it’s truly a sight for sore eyes. choso’s leaned against his bed, whining and whimpering pathetically as he claims your panties again and again. he wishes he could shove the pillow over his nose, but then, that would block his perfect view of you.

sick pervert!choso would’ve never expected for his sweet roommate to react the way you do to the sight of him fisting his cock with your panties.

“fuck,” he growls, and he pumps his dick faster. the fabric is becoming slick with his own pre-cum. “you want me to mark your panties like this, baby?” he asks, managing to dirty talk you without stuttering or whimpering.

“yes,” you barely whisper. you’re so caught up in the sight of him — you almost forgot to reply to him.

his hips start to raise with each pump, and he feels himself getting close. he grips his cock tighter, imagining it was you gripping him like a vice while he fucks your tight pussy until you forget your own name.

a moment later, he groans as he quickly aims his cock, and he cums all over the crotch of your panties. rope after rope of his cum cover the pink fabric until it’s a sticky mess.

he pants as he looks over at you, and his heart is elated by the fact that you look just as desperate as he feels.

sick pervert!choso knows he could he making a mistake, but he takes a leap of faith based off your facial expression. “put them on,” he roughly demands, holding out your freshly ruined panties to you.

your eyes widen, and you look up at him with a little bit of uncertainty. however, you know you two are on a path of depravity now that you watched him claim your panties. you slowly take the panties from him, and you carefully slide them up your legs.

a moan escapes your lips as you feel his warm arousal press against you. it’s sticky and wet. it’s slightly uncomfortable, yet you’ve never been more turned on in your life. it was like a raw act of deprivation as you wore your panties that he had soiled.

“you like that, baby?” he asks, and he can’t help the small tremble in his voice. he desperately wants you to like it as much as he likes it. he’s enamored by the sight of your thighs clenching together. he might just make you wear the panties for the rest of the night.

you nod shyly with a small hum.

sick pervert!choso who never knew his roommate was a secret deviant freak until he watched you sit in panties filled with his cum all night long.

sick pervert!choso who falls even more in love with you after feeling so raw and close to you, and he has no idea that you have plans to ask him to use your panties while you’re wearing them next time <3

[militaryapple]

FUCK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME, BABY ♡

synopsis. caleb has a bad day at work and you just wanna help him. whats the harm in that? it's not like he's ever mean to you.. right?

cw. fem!reader, exhibitionism, praise, semi angry sex, breeding kink, rough sex, cunnilingus, overstim, calebs a little freak.

add ons. didn't think i could make him even worse then he is but whatv i love u nasty caleb + i didn't proofread so whoops im lazy. 

wc. 1.7k

as you lounged around in your room in skyhaven, you jumped up at the sound of keys jingling and the front door opening. It was caleb, he was home! excitedly, you got up rushing to the door with open arms. you were expecting a big hug with the sweet words “pipsqueak! I’m home!~” with a sort of tune in your boyfriend’s voice— but instead you were met with a pat on the head a soft grunt that could only signal “I’m not in the mood.”

who shit in his cereal today?

you followed caleb to the kitchen as you watched him cook.. and then followed him to the living room as you watched him eat.. and then followed him to the bathroom while you waited outside.. and th—

“what do you want pips?” a sharp, hushed voice snapped you out of whatever trance you were in. he stared at you before snapping his fingers to supposedly bring you back to earth, and you just stared.

“is everything okay?” was all you able to muster out. you were unfamiliar with this caleb. the kind, sweet boy who would pet your hair and tell you how cute you looked today was far gone and all that was left was his outer shell, replaced by some sort of spirit. caleb shook his head and sighed heavily. he brushed you off before pushing his hair back.

“just.. tired. long day at the fleet is all.” he said softly. caleb noticed the visible shift in your attitude, fuck he was slipping. just because he had a shitty day doesn’t mean he has to take it out on you, after all you just wanted to make sure he was okay.

and before he knew it, you both were sitting down on his couch. you prepared some tea and pranced around the kitchen as he watched you closely, like you could mess up anytime and he would have to swoop in and save the day but yet there were no mistakes so there was no knight in shining armor caleb. you settled down next to him on the couch before moving closer and resting your head on his shoulder and oh fuck did that send him over. the faint smell of apple cinnamon and the way your body slowly went up and down as you took each agonizingly long breath. you were a sight to behold, truly— and the dent in his pants couldn’t agree with him more.

oh how he would like to take a handful of your hair and pull it back, to see your pretty face laced with tears he caused. To hear your sweet sounds both your voice and body make, fuck him— was he going crazy? caleb quickly turned his attention on you, with a worried expression on your face that could only make his heart melt for you. forget a bad day, every moment with you could cure a million diseases in the world.

“caleb..” you said, your hand tracing over his arm which could only make him shiver. “i just want to know if you’re okay, you’ve been acting.. weird today. if i did anything—“ he cut you off quickly embracing you as close as he possibly could. his voice was sweet, this, this was the caleb you know.

“oh no pips, seriously, it was just one little bad day, yeah?” he said pulling you away and looking straight at you.

“if it was such a bad day, then can i help you? just to relax is all.”

oh gods. fuck him. bless today. you looked so fucking pretty. was it the way you said it, or the way you looked at him? how your eyes flickered across his body— he didn’t imagine that right? how close you both are and how fucking warn you feel, it was hot. he was hot. was the stove on? no, you wouldn’t attempt to cook— fuck why is it so hot in the house all of a sudden? he needed to contain himself, he wasn’t some wild animal, he was— gentle with you. patient. he liked having vanilla sex with you, he liked having sex with you in general. he was just pent up from the day and, fuck fuck fuckk.

caleb looked at you, his hand finding its way to your face as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead. there was no way he would take advantage of you like this. he wasn’t that type of guy. maybe if he was more level headed he would agree to fuck your pretty fuck stupid, but not when he’s angry and you’re doing your damn hardest to make sure he feels better. he should be happy, happy that you care so much about him to the point your willing to help him blow off stream.

but god he would be stupid to let this opportunity slip.

“it’s fine, pipsqueak. i’m serious, i’m sorry if i worried you with my attitude. it was out of line it won’t happen again.” he said softly, warningly. yet, you didn’t seem to pick up on it.

“caleb, please let me do this for you. let me help you.” you got up and shifted yourself closer to him. you could feel his breath hitch as he scanned your face for anything, any sort of sign to tell him “don’t. you shouldn’t, you can’t.” yet there was nothing there. he quickly grabbed your wrist and flipped you, pushing your hands shoved your head as he leaned into you.

“tell me i shouldn’t pips, tell me I shouldn’t take all of my fucking anger out on you right now.” oh fuck this was bad, he was bad. he leaned into kissing your neck and nibbling softly, his eyes retreating back to yours. your silence was deafening. it was like he could hear your plea for him to proceed, god did he want you so fucking bad.

he picked you up, bringing both you and him to his room and throwing you on his bed. he closed the door making sure to hear a small click! in the back. he got down and kissed you. this wasn’t his simple tender and romantic kisses, no. this was sloppy. nasty. he couldn’t help if his hands went from your hair, to your hips, and then your boob. and he definitely couldn’t help on how he groaned while kissing you, how he pulled you down closer to him so you could feel the dent in his pants. so you can feel how fucking much he missed you at work, and how you are such a tease; even when you don’t intend to be. caleb was swift when it came to your clothes, as he took them off faster than you could put them on.and you were quick.

caleb moved to the bed, sitting you up. your back against his chest as you both faced the mirror across from the bed. oh was this beautiful for him, you were beautiful for him.

“I’ve always wanted to try this” he said cooly as he spread your legs, watching the faces you make. the reactions you give him. “I’ve only just imagined it.. well when I’m at work, but seeing it for real? you look so much prettier.” his hands circling around your cunt and then in and out. oh you were so pretty. so beautiful. so mesmerizing. your sounds were enough to make him cum, and you enjoyed it. he coo’d you as you begged for him to be kinder to your swollen cunt.

“you can handle it baby, yeah? you wanted to help me right? come on, hold out for me a little longer and I’ll give you something better.” oh how he knew which words would rub you right. even if he’s in a bad mood he still knew how to make you feel like the only girl in the world.

caleb soon removed his fingers, sliding out of you before pulling down his pants, and then his drawers. god was he even bigger today. you could only watch in awe as he brought you closer to himself.

“i told you I’d give you something better baby.” he said softly, bending down to kiss your forehead. he positioned himself before sliding in. ohh gods did he fill you up perfectly. you were practically made for him. caleb couldn’t help but grab on your hips and add some friction between you two.

the way his tip kissed your sweet spot so good could only make your face contort. you held onto him as he slammed himself in you. it hurt, but it hurt so good. he wasn’t easing up on you anytime soon but you were fine with that. you weren’t complaining on how his balls violently hit your cunt, or how fucking messy you both were being. how greedy you two were, more than usual almost. if sex was this good if he was angry, maybe you should purposely piss him off more.

“oh- fuck baby, ah, you feel so so good” he groaned. you could only let out moans of approval and pleasure as he hit your spots so fucking good. he put his hand down, right at your pelvic area, feeling himself go in and out of you, he couldn’t help it. you were just too perfect. “im gonna put a baby in you yeah? so nobody touches you ever again, or even thinks about you. so they know you’re mine. yeah?” oh fuck you would love that. “im gonna make you a mommy, please can i? can i make you a mommy, baby?”

oh god oh god oh god. you were close you were so so close. your nails dug into his skin which only made him thrust more erratically. both of your heads were empty, focused on the feeling of sweet sweet release. caleb looked down at you, holding your head up.

“gonna cum? wanna cum for me? yeah? yeah? come on baby you can do it. make me proud.” he panted, kissing you in between, all you could do was whine for him as you held onto him. your legs shook while you saw stars. caleb became slower, with a last couple of thrusts before holding you down on his cock. he looked at you, ditsy and fucked out. he let out a soft chuckle.

“you can’t sleep on me now pipsqueak, you said you would help me remember? im still feeling a little upset.”

this was going to be a loooong night.

[ghouljams]

Alone on Valentine's Day? Mad at your ex?

Rating: E Words: 17.5k Tags: Gaz x f!reader, insecure!reader, bad breakups, past cheating(but not by Gaz or reader), shitty exes, fluff, manipulation, subtle interrogation techniques, non-consensual filming, non-consensual photography, minor dollification kink, minor intox kink, touch starved!reader, oral (m and f receiving), face sitting, unprotected sex, piv sex, dick piercings, non-con (off screen) creampie, non-consensual photo sharing Summary: In a fit of pettiness and self loathing you respond to a personal ad online. You get a lot more than you bargained for out of it.

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

<- Alone on Valentine’s Day? Mad at your ex?

[casual encounters]

“Did your partner recently break up with you? Want to look like you’re doing better without them?

I’m a recently turned 30 former special services operative (currently in private security) and, at risk of sounding like a complete ass, a fairly good looking man.

What I can provide to you:

-A full day of “dates” that you can photograph and post on social media for your ex to see.

-The full boyfriend experience for videos and even an “accidental” live

-Outfit changes

-Princess treatment so you remember what an asshole they were

The only payment I want is to hear about the fallout afterwards, I live for the drama and my life has been boring lately.

Face card provided upon request.

Serious inquiries only”

-do NOT contact me with unsolicited services or offers-

*

It takes a few emails back and forth, an enlistment photo you didn’t believe, a requested picture of the most beautiful man you’d ever seen with a frying pan on his head, and an assurance that you weren’t going to get murder-napped, before you realize maybe you’re a little (incredibly) insane. By then you’re already walking into the cafe you’d agreed to meet Kyle at, so it’s a little too late to back out. Not that you don’t consider it when you lay eyes on him.

Pictures don’t do the man justice, and the pictures were really fucking good. His dark skin is rich and beautifully smooth where it shines in the cafe lights, his lips pout slightly as his eyes scan the menu, and by the set of his shoulders you can tell that under that camel colored peacoat he’s got a body that’d make you drool. He seems to spot you out of the corner of his eye because he turns to smile at you before you can turn tail and run, and God even his teeth are pretty.

Which only makes it too bad that the only reason you’re meeting him is because you’re a pathetic mess that can’t get over your ex. Maybe under better circumstances this could’ve been an actual date. 

He raises a hand in greeting and you try not to look like you’re rushing over to him, plastering on a smile and holding out your hand to properly introduce yourself. Kyle’s hand is warm and pleasantly worn when it slides against yours. His ad said he was in private security, do they work with their hands enough to have calluses? He says your name like he was made to, lets the syllables shape his lips in a way that feels purposeful.

“Buy you a cuppa?” He asks, nodding towards the board over the counter.

“Oh,” You glance towards the menu, “that’s really kind, but you don’t have to.” If you expected your response to dull his smile it doesn’t, in fact he seems to glow just a bit brighter, his eyes sparking with something you can’t name.

“Course I do, it’s our first date.” You feel a pop of heat on your cheeks and quickly push it down. Kyle bumps against your side. “Besides, I thought you wanted the princess treatment.”

The heat pops again and you laugh nervously to cover it. “Yeah, I did say that, didn't I?” Kyle nods with a pleased hum.

“Let me spoil you,” He presses, “Show you how your man should act.”

You can’t say it isn’t tempting, and you figure he wouldn’t offer if he couldn’t put his money where his mouth is.

“Alright.” You relent and he wraps an arm around your shoulders to squeeze you into a side hug. You don’t entirely hate it.

“That’s my girl.” You don’t entirely hate that either.

“So,” Kyle starts, dropping his arm back to his side, you almost miss it, “I brought a couple changes of clothes, I figure maybe four or five dates and we’ll be solid?”

“Sounds good to me,” You have about eight different outfits shoved in the back of your car. The idea had felt a little silly when Kyle first brought it up, but you were starting to see the thought behind it.

“And you brought something pretty like I asked?” Kyle taps his fingers against his thigh and for a second you feel a pang of anxiety shoot through you. “I made a reservation for dinner, figured we cap off the slide show with a proper Valentine’s day celebration.” Your anxiety dissipates as quickly as it had appeared and you let out a breath.

“Yeah, wasn’t quite sure what we would be doing so I grabbed a couple dresses.”

“Oh good,” Kyle grins at you, “my pick then.” You laugh off the joke just in time to make it to the front of the line.

You’re strangely nervous by the time you actually sit down with Kyle to drink your tea. You’d made smalltalk while waiting for your drink, but now it felt almost like a date. You had some prerequisite questions you’d asked him just to make sure you weren’t going to be meeting some creep, but you don’t really know Kyle. You’re going to be spending the day with him, but he’s still a stranger to you.

“So,” You start, trying to think of something to talk about. Kyle cuts your thoughts short.

“Let’s get a picture.” He tugs his phone from his coat pocket and you fumble to do the same, scooting your chair closer for a picture together. Kyle laughs. It sounds rich and genuine, the sort of laugh that always sounds good humored, that makes your cheeks warm just a little in embarrassment. He shakes his head as it leaves him. “Cups together, doll.” He tells you, “Try to keep my face out of the pictures, keeps an air of mystery you know?”

“A soft launch.” You nod, pressing your cup against his and pulling your phone close to your face to get a picture of your hands. Kyle has nice hands, a thick ring on his middle finger that catches the attention of the photo in a distinctly masculine fashion. “Oh!” You set your cup down and twist to rummage through your purse, tugging a lipgloss free and flipping the camera. 

You’re careful to apply it as precisely as you can manage with Kyle bumping against your side to peek in your camera. You laugh and shove at him when he wiggles his brows at you through his reflection.

You press your lips to the opening of your cup’s lid to leave a nice crisp stain and hold the cup out for Kyle to press his against as well. You turn your cup so the name is visible and snap another picture. Looks good, definitely couple-y. Let’s see Brad say that’s fake.

“Looks good.” Kyle echoes your thoughts, looking over your shoulder at your screen. You lock your phone and smile up at him, only to lean back. You hadn’t realized how close he was. You’d really scooted your chair right up next to him.

You try to scoot back to your original position and Kyle pulls your chair back with a hand under your seat. The motion is so unexpected and sudden that you let out a nervous laugh and try to move away again. Only to find your movement stopped by the hand that still grips your seat.

“Wait,” He insists, changing his ring for a watch from his pocket, “one more.” You hold your cup up and he shakes his head. “Got a mate that takes pictures of his girl, pass me your phone.” You hesitate. You’re not sure you’re comfortable giving a stranger your phone. Even if it’s only briefly.

“I’ll give it right back,” He promises with a sympathetic look.

Which only makes you feel worse, like you’re so clearly attached to your phone that you need pity. You’re not- You stuff down your discomfort and unlock your phone, to hand to Kyle. He twists in his chair to face you and holds the phone up. You smile on reflex and Kyle reaches out to pinch your cheeks between his fingers, squishing your face in a way that makes you wrinkle your nose to keep from making an even worse face. You see Kyle’s thumb tap to take a few pics before he releases you and hands you your phone back. 

They’re cute pictures, exactly the sort that you can imagine a doting boyfriend would take. You look like you’re being a good sport tolerating the treatment, but there’s a note of enjoyment that shows through in the sparkle of your eyes.

And despite the fact this picture and the one of your to-go cups were taken in the same place the backgrounds are different enough that you could believe that they were taken on separate dates. This might work.

“These are nice.” You give Kyle his applause, and he nods his head.

“Thank you, thank you, the boys gotta be good for something, yeah?”

“So your friend takes a lot of girlfriend pictures?” You ask, latching onto the single piece of information Kyle’s given you. He makes a sort of non-commital head nodding motion and sips his tea.

“Fiance, not sure she likes all the candid shots, but-” He shrugs.

“I’m sure she loves them, makes you feel wanted when your partner takes pictures of you.” You force a smile. Kyle snorts.

“Speaking from experience?” You feel your smile falter and Kyle’s eyes soften. “I’ll take plenty, don’t worry.” He squeezes your hand, “You could milk me for months.” You laugh and he groans, smacking his forehead to drag a hand down his face. “Fuck me, not like tha’.”

“I appreciate it,” You manage through your lingering giggles, “My ex-” You stop yourself, it’s bad manners to talk about exes on a first date. Kyle gives you a look like he’s waiting for you to finish. You suppose this isn’t a real date, even if you sort of wish it was. “I don’t have any pictures of us.” You say lamely. It feels pathetic to admit. Your ex always told you he didn’t like pictures, but he’s fine taking them with his new girl. Guess he just didn’t like taking pictures with you.

Another squeeze to your hand. You hadn’t realized he was still holding it. You’re not sure how you feel about that. Grateful maybe. You stare at your joined hands and try to categorize the feelings in your chest. Bitter and a little wistful. You’ve realized that you miss being a girlfriend more than you miss Brad, not that he was ever a great boyfriend, but it’s nice being loved.

If he ever loved you.

“That’s good,” Kyle ducks his head to catch your eye and you give him a smile just so you don’t look as pathetic as you feel, “means more camera space for us.” You huff a laugh and he knocks his fingers against your chin. You swat his hand away and Kyle’s hand cups your cheek, reassuringly brief before he grabs his tea.

“So what happened?”

The question catches you off guard, though you should have expected it. He did say in his ad that he liked drama, you must be a veritable buffet in his eyes. You toy with the lid of your cup while you think through how to answer, if you even want to. You have no reason to lie to Kyle, but you also have no reason to tell the truth. Lies will be harder to keep track of, so truth it is.

“We broke up before Christmas.” You tell him. “I’d love to say it was mutual, but I caught him cheating and when he started defending himself I just thought-” You shake your head, “-God he’s not even going to pretend he cares about me, so why do I care about him?” Another shake of your head that turns into a self pitying sigh. “And then he broke up with me. Me! I mean, can you believe it?”

Kyle clicks his tongue. “All that and you didn’t even get to pull the trigger yourself.”

“Yeah.” You let out another breath, shove this one out like a huff, “Yeah it sucked. Still sucks.” You hiss when your nail catches on the to-go lid wrong. You raise your hand to check that you didn’t hurt yourself, and to avoid looking at Kyle. You wish you could say it feels good to get it out, but it doesn’t. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“Not at all.” Kyle hums. He sips his tea and you glance his way just to be sure he’s not making fun of you. If he’s so fond of drama he should look pleased, right? But he doesn’t, he just looks at you. He raises a brow over his cup and you blink. Caught. No sense looking away now. "Not your fault the guy was an ass."

You open your mouth but Kyle beats you to the punch.

"You're better off without him."

"I am." You agree, though that knowledge doesn't dull the hurt you still feel over the whole situation. You’ve told yourself you’re better off without him a thousand times, and it’s never helped. Knowing it’s true doesn’t mean you feel it, or believe it. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, and you rarely are, you’re more hurt by how well Brad seems to be treating his new girl than you ever were by the realization he was cheating on you. What was wrong with you that he couldn’t treat you like that?

"We're still gonna piss the fucker off." Kyle says before setting his drink down and leaning close. Too close. "Show me his Instagram."

He even holds his hand out, beckons with his fingers to give him your phone a second time. It’s easier this time, there’s already a shred of trust, enough for you to shrug and fiddle with your phone to pull up his profile before handing it over to Kyle.

He spends a few moments scrolling through the profile, his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed in distaste, before he nods.

"What a prick."

"I know right?" You give a small smile, feeling more yourself with Kyle insulting your ex. He turns your phone to show you a reel of your ex at the gym. You expect him to make some comment about him posing like a douche or not lifting enough, but instead Kyle shrugs off his coat and holds his arm up to flex for you.

The fitted long sleeve tee positively strains against his bicep and you hope your eyes don't bulge as much as his muscles do. Kyle hums with satisfaction and your gaze darts to his face. The pleased smile he's wearing is somewhere between indulgent and victorious. He drops his arm to grab his cup again and you, God, you don't think you've ever seen a man go from super to unassuming in one small motion. He could pass for any boy-next-door heartthrob from a summer blockbuster.

You sort of want him to lose the shirt. Too bad it's February.

"Brad is going to be so pissed." You manage to mumble, finding the glimmer of rage to pull you back to reality. Kyle's smile splits into a grin. It's really too bad he said to keep his face out of the pictures. He’s got a great smile.

"You got an upgrade," he could say that again, "it's every man's worst nightmare."

"Don't know if I could do much better than you." You joke. Kyle's eyes narrow so slightly that you almost think you imagined it, something distant flickering across his eyes that you can't discern or hold onto. Even his smile seems different, a flash of darkness that you can't find when his grin flashes you.

"How about a second date then," He suggests, "I was thinking ice skating, or the zoo-" You feel a flash of excitement at the prospect of the zoo, you haven't been in ages, but your brain seems to hit the same low note Kyle's does as he frowns, "-might be too cold for the animals though."

"Ice skating is fun." You pick, though it feels like the only option.

*

Kyle offers you a ride to the rink, and you politely decline. You still don't really know the guy, and who knows what sort of murder shit he has installed in his car. Besides, it's not like you can leave your car at the cafe with all your nice clothes in it. He seems disappointed but doesn't push. You don’t know why that tugs at your heartstrings the way it does. You resolve to take him up on his offer next time, as long as he’s alright with you bringing your suitcase. Mostly because the place is crowded and you’re forced to park at the edge of the car park. The wind whips through your coat like a knife as you walk to the rink, and you feel bad keeping him waiting.

It's clear he didn't mind when you finally walk up to the rink. He holds up two skate rental tickets with a triumphant smile that makes you laugh.

The ice is outdoors, but they’ve set up heating lamps that make it feel cozy enough you don't mind the chill as you stand in line for your skates. Kyle tugs his scarf off and wraps it around your neck carefully, before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and rubbing your arm. He's so warm pressed close like this. A barrier against the lingering chill that you struggle not to cuddle up to.

"Sorry love, should've thought of someplace warmer." He apologizes. You barely feel the cold anymore through the rising heat on your cheeks at the pet name, and don't even hear yourself give the skate girl your shoe size. Had Brad ever called you anything but your name? You don’t think so.

Kyle grabs both pairs of skates before you can hold your hand out, and leads you over to a clear bench. You go to take your skates and he holds them up out of the way.

"Sit," He tells you, so you sit and hold your hands out again. He shakes his head and drops to his knees. "Nope,” he sets the skates to one side and lifts one of your feet to rest on his thigh, “princess treatment you want, princess treatment you're gonna get."

You laugh when he starts undoing the laces on your trainers, then again when he starts trying to shove your foot into the skate. At least Kyle seems to be having fun with it, shaking his head and muttering about being "bloody awful at this."

"You're doing great," You tell him, and he gives you a look.

He pats your skates when he's finished lacing them up and you hang around on the bench waiting for him to finish so you can put your shoes away together.

With how much trouble he had getting your skates on, you expect him to trip as soon as you're out on the ice. He doesn't even flinch stepping onto it, just holds onto your hand and lets you struggle through the first second of adjustment. You push off with your skates and start getting used to the shift of weight that skating requires.

You don’t remember it being difficult, but Kyle hasn’t let go of your hand and you’re not used to compensating for another person’s movement. Not that you entirely mind. His hand is warm around yours and he’s solid when you bump him with your shoulder accidentally. 

"This is fun." You smile up at Kyle and someone slams into your side, knocking you to the ice.

Or they would knock you to the ice, but you're quickly caught by your date. 

Strong arms tighten around you, Kyle's grip is iron where he grabs you and pulls you against his chest. He’s broad, warm, heat creeps over your body and rises through your cheeks. You blink as you work to get your bearings and guilt starts to eat at you. 

You feel the angry expansion of Kyle's breath as he yells after the retreating figure that knocked you over. His chest rising and falling under your hands where your fingers grip his shirt. God, is that muscle you’re feeling? 

His hand covers the back of your head and presses you closer when you try to turn. Kyle’s arm blocks your view so you can't get a clear look at the retreating figure, but he looks massive. Too big to be on skates without looking a little silly. He probably didn’t even notice you, might not have even noticed Kyle. 

“Fucking dick,” Kyle swears, and for a moment you’re almost scared he’ll chase after the guy, do some macho shit that’ll just get his pretty ass beat trying to “defend” you. Leaving you to defend his own masculinity. Replacing actual affection with meaningless undirected rage in the name of “doing right by you.” Just like your ex. 

You physically feel all of his attention shift to you as you tense with anticipation, and his grip softens. “Are you alright, love?” 

The air rushes out of you. You hadn’t realized how tense you’d gotten, poised right at the edge of begging not to make a scene. But Kyle’s not like that, and when you look at him it’s clear he doesn’t have anything to prove, he’s worried about you. It makes something forgotten and tiny clench in your chest. Hope.

“I’m fine, just caught me off guard.” You shake your head, enjoying Kyle’s hold of you for a moment longer before moving to stand again. He lets you go reluctantly, his hands sliding over you as if he’s checking to be sure you haven’t been injured somehow. Instead of taking your hand again, he keeps his palm pressed to the small of your back. You're nestled close against his side, and if you’re honest the angle is a little awkward. You don’t mind. You sort of like it. But If Kyle thought this would make skating any easier it definitely doesn’t, and you think he’s struggling too with the way he shifts on his skates.

You wrap your arm around Kyle’s middle to hug him tight in an attempt to make this easier before you can fully think it through. He laughs, and immediately stumbles, sending both of you tumbling to the ice as he overcorrects his counterbalance and falls backwards. 

You laugh from the ground and feel Kyle’s body shaking with laughter under you. You’re still giggling as you dust the ice off your hands and fumble through trying to help Kyle to his feet as he does the same for you. Two people tugging at each other and stumbling through the entire process, you feel bright and bubbly and you’ve completely forgotten about being bumped into by the time you and Kyle both get up.

You almost feel bad for the goof given the way Kyle rubs his back, but the smile he gives you tells you he doesn’t mind. You’re breathless from the chill and your own attempts to suppress your laughter during the effort of standing, but you still turn to start skating again. Kyle’s quick to grab your arm and pull you back. 

“Wait,” He says, his own smile breathless as well, “picture.”

“Oh, yeah, um,” You glance around for something couple-y to take a photo of and Kyle spins you to face him. His hands stay on your hips, holding you in place. You try to ignore them.

“The skates.” He suggests. 

You glance down at where the tip of your skates are bumping against his, they look different enough that you could probably tell which were yours just from a picture. You pull your phone out of your coat pocket and try to avoid headbutting Kyle’s chest while you snap a few pictures. His skates play with yours as Kyle wiggles his feet in and out of a triangle shape. You smile and glance up at him to tell him to hold still.

Again he’s close, his face inches from yours where he’s leaned over to look at your phones. His head tips ever so slightly to look at you better and you feel his breath ghosting over your cheek. You’ve never felt so… caught, like a rabbit that’s just stumbled into a trap, your eyes fixed on him like a lifeline you’ll never reach. But if you look anywhere else- 

his eyes dart to your lips and you feel your cheeks flash with heat. He looks away quickly and straightens up, clearing his throat. Maybe you’re not the only one enjoying yourself.

It gives you an idea.

“Let’s get another one.” You offer, tugging him over to the wall that surrounds the rink.

“Alright.” He sounds suspicious, but he doesn’t resist. His skates glide over the ice without resistance and you manage to put him against the wall without issue. 

“Ok just right here,” You nod. You hold up your fingers in a square as if you’re lining up the shot and then cozy up next to him, raising your phone for a selfie. Kyle raises a brow, but doesn’t say anything. “Just for us.” You tell him, trying to assure him you’re not breaking his faceless rule.

You set a short timer on your camera and hold your arm out to get the best frame, before you lean up and kiss Kyle’s cheek as the camera clicks. You pull back and grin at Kyle.

“Bet.” He grins, Your phone is slipped from your hand almost as quickly as Kyle pulls you in to kiss you properly.

His lips fix over yours, warm and soft and insistent they part ever so slightly only to pull you in again. Like the gentle lap of waves against a cliffside, the push and pull of a current, he kisses you again and again. The gentle affection of it drips through you like honey, something sweet and indulgent that you want to taste again and again. You should push him away, you barely know him, he’s just some stranger you met online, he could do anything to you. 

Yet, your hands find their way to his shoulders as his tongue swipes against the seam of your lips and you part for the warm wet muscle. Your head tips to the side, your nose brushing his, comfortable, fit together like puzzle pieces. You’re pressed close against his chest, your hands curling in his shirt with the intention of pushing him away --one of the many lies you tell yourself-- but-

But he twists his tongue against yours and you feel something breathless bubble up in your chest. Your head is fuzzy and your skin prickles with desire. It’s been so long since you were kissed like this, like you’re worth kissing. Kyle’s tongue traces a gentle path over yours, before his lips are taking over that gentle push-pull again. His teeth dig into your bottom lip curiously, his mouth slipping against your own over and over again in a leading dance. 

You can’t help wondering if he’s this good with his mouth in other circumstances. One of your friends once told you that the best way to see how someone’s head was, was to make out with them, and you hadn’t understood what they meant but now? Now you’re starting to think maybe your ex was just bad enough at both that you hadn’t made the correlation. Or hadn’t wanted to…

He pulls back and you push into the kiss, unwilling to let it end when it feels so good. You can feel the curve of Kyle’s lips, the part of them as you press your lips to his teeth and he drags his tongue over your lips. It makes your head spin. 

At least Kyle seems to have kept his common sense, pulling away with a searching almost apologetic look. You blink slowly, your eyes heavy as your brain works to piece together what the hell just happened. 

“I-” Kyle clears his throat, “usually I wait for the third date before trying anything.” The joke is weak but your head is spinning too much to do anything but nod like an idiot. Kyle glances at your phone, now clutched in his hand. Recording. You feel another flush of heat pass over your face and he hurriedly fumbles to stop the camera.

You press your hands to your face in embarrassment and listen to Kyle mutter quite swears. You glance back at him and find his eyes glued to your phone. You glance at your phone to see the video of him kissing you playing back. You gasp.

“Delete that!” You insist. Kyle holds the phone up out of your reach, his eyes never leaving the screen. A slurry of swears and insults crowd your mind, perv seems to be the frontrunner on your tongue in the brief second it takes him to tap the screen and hand your phone back. 

The video is stopped, or maybe it’s a screenshot? Either way it’s just you and Kyle standing there. Kyle’s face is entirely hidden but you recognize your own hair and the curve of your face immediately, even if it’s almost hidden by the way Kyle’s head is tilted to kiss you. It looks like a still from a movie, spontaneous but choreographed. Romantic.

The sort of picture that you’ve always wanted to feature you, somewhere deep in your lonely heart. The main character in your own love story.

You can’t post something like that.

“Not good?” Kyle asks when you’ve been quiet too long.

“It’s fine.” You mumble, locking your phone and stuffing it in your pocket. 

“I shouldn’t’ve kissed you.” He winces.

“No that’s not-”

“I’m sorry, it was an impulsive decision. I won’t do it again.” He nods so seriously that it makes panic rise in your throat.

“No!” You’re quick to correct, maybe too quick, “No, it’s-” You take a breath to catch yourself, “-it was nice-” his face falls a little and you correct again, “-good, it was really good I don’t, um- you could do it again, maybe.”

You try to avoid looking at the dazzling grin that seems to bloom over Kyle’s face. He laces his fingers with yours and tugs you back to skating. You think that might’ve been the right answer, because he’s skating just a little faster than before, pulling you along at a pace that makes you breathless. You’re pulled around the rink, weaving between other couples on much more leisurely loops, once and then twice. 

It’s a lot of coordination but you’re almost giddy from the rush of it. You feel like a kid racing with your friends to see who can skate faster, playing games with made up rules and finish lines. Kyle never lets go of your hand, his grip so steady and unwavering you wonder how you were having so much trouble earlier. He only slows to swing you around and crowd you close to another section of the barrier. Pinning you, boxing you in with his hands on either side of you to hold onto the wall.

“When?” He asks eagerly.

“When what?” You laugh. He keeps crowding you, like the man’s allergic to personal space. Somehow you don’t entirely mind, you like having his full attention even if that means he’s a little closer than is comfortable. Besides, Kyle’s warm and smells like something sweet but earthy that you can’t put a name to. It makes you want to press your nose against his neck and breathe until you can figure it out. 

He might let you given how he’s been acting.

“When can I kiss you again?” His response shakes you from your daydreaming. 

“I don’t know,” You try to stifle the laugh this time, though you’re sure it reads clear as day on your face, “buy me dinner first.” You joke.

“How about lunch?” He offers.

“Has to be dinner,” You stand firm, if only because it makes him sigh like you’re asking him to marry you.

“Not open to negotiations then,” You shake your head, “Alright, have it your way.” 

“But we should get lunch too.” You’ll give him that, “All I’ve had today is tea and I’m starved.”

“They’ve got changing rooms here.” Kyle bobs his head like he’s thinking, and tugs at the hem of your sweater, “think we’ve run the course on this jumper.”

You must look confused, before you remember you’re supposed to be changing between dates, because Kyle has to turn his head away from you. He covers up his laugh with a cough that you aren’t buying. It’s cute, sort of makes you want to grab his face just to make him smile at you, to hear him laugh properly. Why the hell is this guy advertising a fake dating service on craigslist?

“I’ll grab some clothes from my car.” You nod.

“No rush,” Kyle says, “I’m not going anywhere.”

*

You suppose it’s because he walked with you to get clothes from your car that he doesn’t offer you a ride this time. He does make a face when he sees your suitcase in the back seat, but aside from offering to help you move it to the trunk, he doesn’t say anything. It's polite, but you feel the distance of it as you walk back to the changing rooms at the rink. You wish he would have offered. It would be annoying having to pick up your car from the park later, but you’d get to spend the extra time with Kyle, and maybe you wouldn't feel this gnawing like you've done something wrong.

Since Kyle gave you options for your "second" date, you give him options for lunch. You know there aren't any wrong answers, especially when you're just pulling nearby restaurants from off your phone's map, but you're a little disappointed when he picks-

"Let's do the other then," He rescinds his choice.

"What?" You look up at him from your phone.

"Let's go to," He leans close to glance at your phone, "Kategna? I'm probably butchering that." He pulls away and you blink at him, "You seem more excited for it."

"Oh, no, I don't-" You wave a hand, "don't think about me, just pick what seems good to you."

"Kategna sounds good," He reaches a hand to tap his fingers under your chin, it's affectionate and patronizing in equal measure, and it makes your face burn like a wildfire, "besides, I don't want to disappoint my best girl."

You glance at your phone and worry your lip.

"Are you sure?" You ask, "It's- we're going to be eating with our hands, if that's not your style-"

"I'm good with my hands love, don't worry about me." He smiles, "Pick somewhere you like, my treat."

He says it like he hadn't assured you the day was on him just a few hours ago. That doesn't stop it from feeling like a treat. It bubbles in your stomach somewhere between guilty and grateful. You should pay if you're forcing him to go somewhere he doesn't want to. You open your mouth and he presses his finger against your lips.

"Ah ah, I told you, it's on me." He moves his finger to tap your forehead, "Don't want to make me a liar, do you doll?"

"If you want to go somewhere else." You couch.

"I want to go to Kategna." He assures you, "Don't think I've had ethiopian since-" He hums thinking, "-probably second to last deployment? That sounds right."

A million questions pop into your head and are just as quickly squashed by Kyle pulling out his phone. You watch him type in the restaurant's name with a spark of disappointment. The feeling of a good date being over creeps up on you before you can remind yourself that you're heading to the next one. Still, you sort of... miss Kyle already.

"I'll see you there," You mumble, turning to power walk to your car before you can say anything stupid. Best not to examine that feeling too closely.

You thank your lucky stars on being able to park near the restaurant and somehow beat Kyle there. You grab a table and wait.

And wait.

You feel your heart starting to sink. You check your phone and realize you don't have Kyle's number. The server swings by to ask about drinks and you assure both of you that you need a few minutes for Kyle to get there. You're not sure you convince yourself, but the server doesn't say anything so you pretend you've convinced them.

You shouldn't be disappointed. You don't really know Kyle, and this wasn't a real date. You had a good time skating, got a decent kiss out of it, and now he's realized you're not worth the trouble of a full day. It hurts, how quickly the feeling of inadequacy seems to creep in. Familiar as an old wound.

You check your phone, reasoning that you'll give him another five minutes when you've already given him ten.

Fifteen minutes.

You resolve to try and enjoy the food by yourself when Kyle finally shows up. He's a little out of breath, and his arm is bent behind his back. It's enough to make you pause, your finger pointing at a tomato salad on the menu and your eyes wide. The server even seems surprised. You're not sure you appreciate that, but your bruised pride swells with relief seeing Kyle hurry to pull out the chair across from you.

"Sorry, love." He huffs. You give him a weak smile, trying not to show the hurt you'd been inflicting on yourself, and he holds out a bouquet. "Saw a shop on my way here," He explains, "thought I'd be quicker."

"Oh." You blink at the flowers. They're beautiful, blue and white with boxwood's soft green breaking up the petals. Little dots of pink peak through the baby blue of the hydrangeas, and you take the paper wrapped bundle from Kyle with a full breath, trying not to look like you're smelling the fragrant bouquet. You can't even remember Brad buying you flowers, he always said it was too expensive for something that was just going to die.

Kyle isn't even dating you and he bought them on a whim.

"Are you ordering?" He asks, settling in his chair and picking up the menu to glance over.

"I'll give you a moment to look over the menu," the server tells him and Kyle waves him off.

"We'll have an order of the tibs wat, the miser alecha, tikil gomen, and-"

"Sambosas?" You cut in and Kyle gives a short huff of laughter. He folds his menu and hands it to the server.

"And two sambosas."

The server nods and you hand over your menu as well. You've never understood the appeal of having someone order for you, but Kyle was so fluid with it. No stuttering or stopping, barely a glance at the menu, and, well, you're willing to forgive a lot given the bouquet. You have to admit though, his choices are smart. A meat and two vegetarian options. Just in case, your brain tells you, because he hasn’t asked if you eat meat and he’s trying to be considerate. 

“Thank you,” You start because you aren’t quite sure what to say, but you can’t stand sitting in silence, “The flowers are really nice.”

“My mum always told me if you’re going to be late you better have something to make up for it.” Kyle smiles, “but I’m sorry if I scared you.” 

He plucks the emotion right from your chest. Scared isn’t the first option you’d have chosen if you were him. Angry maybe, you can understand being angry that he’s late, but scared? Were you that easy to read? Or maybe it’s just that clear from your… everything… how used to being cast aside you are. Maybe it’s written on you in big black letters right where everyone can see.

Your teeth find your bottom lip to pick at the chapped skin there. Uncomfortable.

“So what do you do for work?” Kyle asks, picking at a stray thread on his jumper. You shake yourself from your thoughts.

“Nothing special,” You don’t dislike the question, but you hate talking about work, “I do some graphic design work.”

“That must run you into the city a lot, know a couple advertising firms that-”

“I work from home,” You stop him, “mostly. It’s easier, I like the quiet.” Kyle nods like he understands. You wonder if he does, or if he’s just being polite. “What about you, you said you served. What got you into security?”

Kyle’s face falls, something different taking over. There’s a coldness to his expression, a wall being thrown up. It leaves you feeling off balance, guaranteeing a misstep.

“My mate, I uh,” He clears his throat and leans his elbows on the table, hunching his shoulders forward, “watched him get shot in the head, sort of a reality check.”

“Oh my God.” You press a hand to your mouth, “Oh my God Kyle, I’m-”

“You didn’t know,” He waves it off, “Happier in private security-” he reassures you with a smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes, “-safer than falling out of helos, and I get to take pretty things like you out on the weekend.”

Your body feels like it short circuits, unsure how to take the compliment in the wake of something as tragic as Kyle losing a friend. A memory that you brought up with your poking. God you’re so fucking bad at this. Dating is better left to the people that don’t accidentally bring up the guy’s dead best friend during the getting to know you phase.

“Hobbies?” Kyle asks, reaching for his water. You jump at the chance to talk about yourself. Anything to get the spotlight off Kyle.

“About a million.” You joke, trying to lighten the mood. “I feel like I pick one up and get all the materials just to jump to a different one once I’m ready to start.”

“Roommate must hate that.” Kyle smiles. A wave of relief washes over you seeing a little life return to his eyes.

“Thankfully I don’t have to deal with roommates,” You chat, “my last one was awful, really soured me on living with other people.”

“Don’t tell me that, doll.” Kyle blinks, “pretty thing like you all alone? I’ll worry.”

“Oh no,” You reassure him, “I mean I’m near Tinkham Park, so it’s pretty safe and I lock my door.” Kyle looks relieved and you smile at him to sell your point. “Besides, no one is coming after me.”

You mean it as a joke but Kyle’s brows draw down in confusion.

“Why not? I would.” Something squirms in your stomach, you’re sure he means it as a clumsy compliment especially with the way he winces, so you tamp down the spike of anxiety. “That came out wrong.” He tells you, “You’re beautiful.” 

He says it like it’s a fact, like it’ll make you forget the previous sentence. It does. Your cheeks warm and you smile down at your lap with embarrassed glee. Flowers, compliments, a kiss you’re going to daydream over, so far you’d call this a perfect date.

“Let me get a picture.” Kyle’s excitement reminds you, all too clearly, how much of a date this isn’t. He pulls his phone out and you smile as he raises the camera to snap a quick pic. He turns the phone to face you and-

God, you’re not sure if he just got a weird angle or what but you’re seeing a lot of tits in that picture. You glance down at your chest, is your shirt too low? You thought it was cute. Kyle pulls the phone back to look at it with a puzzled expression before it seems to click.

“Oh. Oh!” He taps a few buttons on his phone and tells you, “deleted, how about another one?”

He snaps a few more and swipes through the options before turning the phone back to you.

You’re… pretty, sitting at the table with a wide smile and an excitement behind your eyes that you never saw in any of the photos you took with Brad. You cock your head to the side to inspect in further and deem it worthy when Kyle prods you for an answer.

“Great,” He taps at his phone, “I’ll send it to you.”

“You don’t have my number,” You remind him and he shoots you a devastating grin.

“Then give it to me.”

The server starts setting down plates as you finish enunciating your number, and the smell that hits you makes your stomach growl. Warm, rich spices fill your nose and settle fragrant on your tongue. Saucey meats and soft vegetables, crisp fresh tomatoes and two perfect fried pyramids. You reach for the injera as soon as the server sets a basket of it on the table, unrolling one of the beautifully sour pancakes to start digging in.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling how quickly your eyes go to Kyle’s hands when he tears off a piece of injera for himself. You’re transfixed watching him pinch a piece of chicken and shove the morsel in his mouth. Or maybe it’s the way he licks his lips that does it, pink tongue darting to drag rich sauce off his full lips before dragging along the pad of his thumb. He sucks the digit into his mouth and your stomach drops. You feel a little shudder of something akin to desire ripple through you, chilly but settling warm in the pit of your stomach. His eyes fix on you as he rips another piece of the sour pancake and you rush to pretend you weren’t staring.

Though you can feel his eyes on you just the same as you scoop some of the miser alecha between your fingers and deposit it into your waiting mouth.

It’s embarrassing to think that you put on a show for Kyle, licking the drip of curried sauce off your fingers with a greedy tongue before ripping off another piece. It feels good to be watched. You feel wanted in a way you haven’t before, and when you suck at the tibs wat that lingers on your finger you smile at Kyle and ask him: “What?”

“Nothing,” He swallows, going back to his own meal, “Just looking.”

Your mouth moves with your smile, trying to settle on an expression that isn’t as excited as you feel. You’re not sure it works, or that he doesn’t see the way your eyes dart back to the food after staring at his mouth.

It was so soft when he’d kissed you.

You pull out your phone and get a quick photo of the spread, Kyle’s fingers dipping the injera into the timatim salad in the top of frame. It’s a necessary distraction from the gnawing hunger that seems to creep into you. One you don’t think will be settled with food, or settled any time soon.

Fake date and all.

*

You and Kyle spend longer than you’d anticipated at the little Ethiopian restaurant, eating and chatting. Firstly because you’d ordered another serving of tibs wat after Kyle had nearly licked the plate clean, and secondly because it had taken so long to decide on another activity. 

You have plenty of time to kill before dinner, and you feel woefully unprepared to plan an afternoon date. 

You settle on a crappy action flick with absolutely abysmal reviews. It takes you as long to actually pick the damn thing as it took to decide to see a movie, so you’re making great time. Mostly you pick it because neither of you seem particularly interested in it, and if it sucks at least it’ll give you something to talk about afterwards. 

You like talking to Kyle. There’s something so easy about it, as natural as breathing. The conversation flows like you’ve known him forever, and you find yourself talking more than you’re used to, answering questions and filling in blanks for him about your life. It’s only when you get in your car a third time that you realize, he hasn’t really told you anything about himself. 

You know he was in the military, that he lost someone close to him, and that he’s in security now. You know that he prefers salty over sweet snacks, and that he prefers to wake up early. You know that he has sisters, and that’s about it. It feels like a lot, but… is it? It’s somewhere above surface level, like answers from a dating questionnaire. Enough to give the impression of a person without actually showing you the full picture.

You resolve to ask him about himself more at dinner. You don’t think you’ll have much room for conversation during the movie.

You pull up to the theater and wave when Kyle pulls up right beside you. He smiles and you smile back. Easy. Things are easy with Kyle and you’re wasting your time overthinking, as usual.

It’s a nice distraction when he takes your hand walking into the theater and you feel your brain hiccup as his thumb sweeps over the back of your knuckles. The casual affection makes you want to press for more from a man you barely know. Kyle barely seems to notice, too busy poking at the little ticket ordering screen to pick your seats. You miss the way his finger hovers over the back row of chairs before picking something closer to the middle as you glance at the screen.

“Oh wow this thing is empty.” You laugh, “must be pretty bad.”

“I hope so,” Kyle jokes, “Need something I can force my mates to watch later.”

You grab onto the opportunity to learn more about him.

“Do you and your friends have movie nights?”

“Only when we find something really bad,” He tells you with a smile, “Popcorn?”

You glance at the concession stand and shake your head. “I’m full from lunch.”

Kyle hums, “Me too, we’ll have to go back some time.”

“For sure.” You agree. You try not to think too hard about how going again implies another date, maybe a real one. Of course there is the very real possibility of Kyle just being polite. He’s a nice guy you doubt he’d say ‘I’ll go back but not with you’ to your face.

That thought takes some of the wind out of your sails as you trail behind Kyle to the theater.

You’re halfway to wondering if he even notices when his hand finds yours and he tugs you to walk with him.

“Wouldn’t want you getting lost,” he whispers, “we’ve got a date later.”

You smile and let him lead you to the empty theater.

You enjoy watching Kyle squint at the ticket stubs to try and determine what number your seats are, and sit down only to realize you’re far too early for this movie. The lights aren’t even half-dimmed yet, and the screen is glowing with some silent ad for the concession stand in the lobby. 

You check your phone to see how much time is left until previews and Kyle leans close to your side. 

“Picture time?” He asks.

“Oh, no, I just wanted to see what time it was.” You lock your phone and settle it on your lap. You’re with someone, it would be rude to be on your phone.

“I should’ve found a sooner showtime,” Kyle grimaces.

“It’s fine!” You don’t want to seem disagreeable, “Just don’t know what to do with our time.”

“Don’t wanna talk to me?” Kyle hums. When you look at him he’s got this strange smile, an emotion clear but unreadable. It shudders down your spine like cold water.

“I’ve been doing a lot of talking.” You admit, and earn another hum. Kyle leans close, and tips his head.

“Ask me something sweetheart.”

He’s so close, so definite with his command, that you struggle not to comply. Favorite colors and foods. Where did he meet his mates (met them while serving). What branch was he in (Special Air Service). What did they do (classified). His answers are short and definite and when you struggle to come up with another Kyle takes over.

What sort of food do you like? Really, no allergies then? Oh, is that common in your family? That’s interesting. You don’t say. Tell me more.

Again you find yourself talking and talking.

“I’m not really sure what sort of photo to get,” You admit, as another couple files into the theater, “Just a dark theater? The screen?”

“Just focus on me touching you,” Kyle smiles and you’re a little confused by his phrasing until he moves.

Kyle’s hand settles on your thigh, the position of it is polite, but it still feels overly familiar. You snap a few pictures and lock your phone again, expecting him to move his hand as the lights flick off. You turn to him to- you don’t know, say something, and he raises a finger to his mouth. You shut your mouth tight again and face forward to watch the movie. 

You’re barely ten minutes in when his thumb starts to rub at your thigh. Soft circles that make you tense. It’s affectionate. Too affectionate for a veritable stranger, but when you turn to him again to ask him to move he shushes you. You curl your fingers into fists and try not to squirm when he starts rubbing again. His hand is big and warm on your thigh, his fingers resting just slightly too far along the inside of your jeans for you to ignore. 

You shift in your seat in the hopes that’ll make him move and all it does is slide his hand further up your thigh. Just a few centimeters, but it’s enough to move it away from what you’d call polite. The rub of his thumb feels infinitely higher, and your body seems to zero in on the feeling.

Warmth starts to flicker between your legs, your stomach clenching pleasantly as your skin bristles with the movement of Kyle’s thumb. Such a simple touch, and yet it’s sent your body into high-alert. 

You can’t suppress the shiver that tracks down your spine, and again the motion shifts the placement of his hand. You feel the hover of his fingers where they trace the inside of your thigh like a phantom brush against your cunt. He hasn’t even moved them, hasn’t done more than circle his thumb against denim, and yet your pussy pulses with the need to feel him press his fingers against it. You can almost feel it, can almost imagine the bump of his knuckles against your clothed cunt.

He’s been so polite, he’d probably apologize for it, even though you both know you’re the one that can’t stay still. 

You can’t help the slight push of your hips, into the sensation and --as if on cue-- Kyle’s pinky bumps the warmth between your legs. Your body flushes with heat.

He leans close, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he slides his hand back towards your knee, “Sorry love,” He whispers, and you feel his breath like a touch, “can’t see in here.”

He squeezes your thigh as he leans away and again a shiver tumbles through you. It must be freezing in this theater.

His thumb doesn’t rub, but his fingers are closer to the inside seam of your jeans and splayed wide. His pinky draws towards his ring finger in what you’re sure is just him making his grip more comfortable, but your body follows the trail of it like a bloodhound. Your skin lights up at the short movement and you find yourself hoping he’ll do it again.

You stay resolutely still and try to focus on the movie. You- you have no idea what’s happening.

Kyle spreads his fingers wide again, applying the gentlest pressure as he stretches in his seat. The drag of his touch is intoxicating, it sucks your attention back to it with the slightest movement. You ache for more, for his hand to creep higher, to feel the press of his fingers against your cunt. Even through the layers of fabric you’re sure you’d be able to find some relief in them. Selfishly you shift in your seat, scoot down ever so slightly in the hopes it’ll nudge his grip higher. 

You could chart the path of his hand down to the millimeter. 

You’ve never been more happy for a nearly empty theater than when his thumb starts moving again. Except when the rest of his hand follows.

You have to stop from sucking in a breath when he shifts his grip and his fingers start a short devastating path over the inside seam of your jeans. A soft idle motion, back and forth, almost thoughtless. Well, thoughtless for Kyle. It’s all you can think about. 

It’s too far up your thigh, right where the denim is stretched and thin against your skin. The touch almost tickles, feather light and blisteringly hot. Or maybe it’s the goosebumps that it sends over your skin that makes the rest of you feel cold. You can’t say for certain, only that your brain latches onto it and transfers the sensation to the needy thing between your legs. 

All you can think of is the way he’d drag his fingers over your cunt, would it be with this same soft teasing touch or would he be more focused. You can almost transfer the sensation, the short rub against your thigh trailing higher, until he’s rubbing at your clit, teasing you through the fabric of your jeans and leaning close to whisper-

“I’ll be right back.” You jerk from your daydream as Kyle’s breath hits your cheek and try not to look like you’re scrambling away from the poor guy. An explosion on screen lights up the furrow of his brow as you collect yourself. Probably thinks he startled you from watching the movie. “Bathroom.” He explains, and you nod quickly.

He squeezes your thigh before he gets up and you watch him go to make sure he isn’t running from you.

You press your hands against your face when you’re sure he’s out of the theater and let out a little air scream. 

Get a fucking grip, you tell yourself furiously. This is ridiculous. Kyle’s been nothing but sweet to you on these fake --you repeat that part to yourself a few times for good measure-- dates, and- oh my God is that all it takes for you? Being treated well? A little idle affection?

You press your hands harder against your face and take a deep breath, before dropping your hands down to your lap to try and readjust your focus onto the movie.

It takes a few minutes for you to realize it, but this movie sucks.

Luckily by the time you realize that Kyle’s sliding back into his chair.

He leans over the seat and you tip your head for him to stay close. “What did I miss?” He asks.

“A couple really bad one-liners,” You whisper back, turning to catch his ear, “I’m trying to figure out the layout of this hotel.”

“Whatever works for the plot probably.” Kyle’s voice has something warm at the edge of it, a hint of laughter that makes you smile.

“This movie sucks,” You tell him and feel the sharp exhale of laughter against your neck as you see his shoulders shake in the dark.

“Yeah, it does.” He agrees, his voice tight with that suppressed laugh. You think.

*

You decide to grab a drink after the movie. Mostly to kill time before dinner, but also to give you time to change. You’d forgotten that the bathrooms were past the ticket taker at the theater, so once you’d left it was either find another bathroom or attempt to change in your car. You picked drinks. It was near the restaurant anyway.

Except you’re not sure you grabbed the right clothes once you see the restaurant. It looks fancy.

Kyle stands with you to chat as you dig through the suitcase in your trunk. You pull out a dress and make a face. 

“Want some help?”

“No I- maybe?” You wince, “I don’t know if what I have works for dinner.”

Kyle nudges you with his arm and you shuffle to the side to let him dig through your clothes. He’s purposeful about it, his eyes scanning each piece that he touches before finally pulling out one of the dresses at the bottom.

“This one,” He tells you, handing you the dress. You’re reminded suddenly of this morning when he’d told you, your dinner dress was “his pick,” and take the garment with a small smile.

“You want to do my makeup too Mr. Fashion?” You joke. Something flashes in his eyes and your stomach flips.

“If you’re offering.” The rumble of his voice is lower, devastatingly so, and it simmers hot in your stomach. He isn’t joking. “My sisters used to make me do their makeup,” He tells you, stepping closer, “I’m good at it.”

You feel boxed in. The corner of your car just barely catches your hand as you drop it to your side, and hurriedly raise it again to keep your dress from getting dirty. 

“Let me dress you up, doll.” He pleads, his smile warmer, more friendly. There’s something in the flash of his teeth when he offers though that feels… calculating. 

“I’m-” You try to think of a way to deny him, “You don’t want to sit in the bathroom with me for that, do you?”

He sits you at the bar instead, lays out the minimal makeup you’d brought and touches your face with soft hands. He tips your chin up and you close your eyes a little too tightly at the feeling. You’re not used to this, it feels strange and you’re not sure you like it.

“Hold still for me.” Kyle murmurs to you.

“What if I want a drink?” You try to joke.

“Then you ask me for one.” He responds easily, and you hear the squeeze of  your tinted moisturizer. His fingers sweep over your cheeks, over your chin, down your nose and across your forehead. Rubbing in the blurring color before leaving you. You open your eyes enough to see him toying with the concealer you’d brought.

“We’ll need to get better supplies.” He mumbles to himself and you shut your eyes again from him to dot the little wand under your eyes and against your eyelids. Eyeshadow, precise eyeliner. It’s cold and practiced. It makes you think he’s done this before, maybe on more than just his sisters. It’s not until he gets to your lips that you start feeling off. His breathing is even but heavier somehow, his touches linger, and his breath skates across your skin. He’s close to you, and you can feel the heat that radiates from him.

His thumb finds your mouth, and tugs at your lip. You open for him, and wonder why he didn’t just ask. Only to feel the pad of his thumb press down against your tongue.

It’s brief, but it startles you, and you jerk away. Your eyes fly open and he’s holding up your favorite lipstick, looking like you’re getting jumpy for no reason. His hand is settled in his lap and his brows are raised.

“I can do it.” You insist and grab the metal tube from him. Your hands shake as you unlock your phone and try to apply your lipstick in the mirror image on screen.

Kyle watches you like a hawk.

*

You’re shown to your table almost as soon as you walk in the door. The restaurant is beautiful, softly lit by chandeliers with cream colored tablecloths and plates edged with gold. The sort of place you’ve always wanted to visit but never had the chance. Every inch of the place speaks to a level of class and sophistication that was always out of reach when you were with Brad. He never wanted to spend more than was necessary, but Kyle-

Kyle…

Your head is still reeling from Kyle’s makeup application, the firm guiding hand he’d used to turn your head, the gentle touch of the brush as it swept over your eyelids. It should have felt more relaxing, right? But something about it had set you on edge, something flinty and cold in the warm umber of his eyes that had made you think twice about relaxing around him. Then his thumb against your tongue…

You’re starting to think you’d imagined his finger in your mouth. He wouldn’t do that, right? Kyle’s nice; sweet. You like him, and you just got caught up in the moment. You were looking for something wrong, something devious in a man who had been nothing but kind to you, because you were treated so badly by your ex.

Obviously.

He doesn’t act like anything is wrong, or like he did anything wrong. Kyle acts exactly as he has been all day. He’s kind, considerate, he pulls your chair out for you and orders a bottle of wine before the server leaves, he’s exactly the same.

You must have imagined it.

But you can’t get the feeling of pressure off your tongue.

You stare at the menu without really reading it, the crisp heavyweight paper on a leather bound board provides you no aid. You can’t get your brain to focus on the black lettering for long enough to absorb anything it’s telling you. 

If you did imagine it, what does that say about you? That you’re so touch starved it’s almost consumptive? Or maybe that you want Kyle to be pushy with his touching? More pushy, at least. More touchy in a way that feels more provocative than platonic. Anticipatory and intentional. You want him to touch you in a way that says “I want this, I want you, and I’m willing to take a risk to make it happen.”

God help you if you’re developing a public play kink, you really don’t need that right now.

“See anything you like?” Kyle asks, setting his menu down. Your eyes train on the way he laces his fingers together and sets his hands on the menu to lean closer to you. He’s changed the rings he’s wearing again. Gold bands that sit on his middle and ring finger on one hand, pinky and pointer on the other. The warm yellow metal flashes like starlight against his dark skin. You wonder what it would feel like against your tongue, clicking against your teeth…

You rip your eyes from his hands to meet his gaze, your face is warm and you feel a little embarrassed. You can’t say why. You weren’t staring at anything bad, and if this is all in your imagination then Kyle would have no reason to suspect what you were thinking about. Still, you can’t shake the feeling of being caught doing something wrong. So you shake your head.

“I don’t know, it all looks good.” A non-committal answer, you look at the menu to try and see if you can parse any of it on a second try. 

There’s a salad that looks good, one or two mains that you might enjoy. No prices on anything. That stops you, you glance at Kyle. He’s still looking at you, a smile creeping onto his face.

“There’s no wrong answer, love.” He tells you, reaching across the table to press your menu down, “Show me what you’re looking at.”

Your eyes trace his fingers where they settle against the paper before drifting down to what you’d been looking at.

“This maybe,” You point at one of the mains you’d been eyeing, then over to the other, “or this.”

“Anything else?” He prods. You give him a look and watch his teeth catch his lip as he smiles. “I’m happy sharing if you can’t decide.”

Panic slices through you. Share? This is a nice restaurant, you can’t share.

Kyle’s hand covers yours where you’re starting to pick at the edge of the menu.

“We can switch plates if that makes you more comfortable.” He offers, “I’m not picky, if you want to try something I’ll get it.”

“That’s not fair to you, I’m fine with-”

“I want to do it,” Kyle cuts you off. “I get to try two things, and you’re happy no matter what.”

“I-”

You’re interrupted by your server bringing the bottle of wine Kyle ordered. He plunges a needle like device into the top and pops the cork before handing it off to Kyle for inspection. It must pass whatever metric Kyle has because the server sets two glasses on the table and pours you each a healthy serving. 

You take your glass to taste the wine before you realize Kyle is ordering for both of you, again. That yummy sounding salad with strawberries and green apple, and both of the mains you’d shown him.

You hadn’t even asked what he wanted.

You set the wine down as discomfort gnaws at your stomach and Kyle lets the server run off with your order.

“I didn’t even ask what you wanted.” You whisper, leaning over the table to try and grab Kyle’s attention.

“I told you already, love,” He insists, “I’m not picky, and even if I was you have good taste.”

You raise a hand to cover your face and drop it just as fast when Kyle arches a brow at you. No hiding from him, or your shame.

“Well,” You fish for something to assuage your guilt with, “what do you like to eat?” You add on quickly, “For next time.”

Kyle’s eyes flick down to your plate, you hadn’t even noticed your server stealing the menu away, and then back to your face. He schools something behind his eyes before you can parse what it is, and for some reason you desperately want it back. A heat that he’d squashed before it could burst into a fire. Tempering himself.

“Learned to take what I could get when I was serving,” He tells you with a sly smile, “but sweet things like you fill me up just fine.”

You feel yourself burst with heat.

Idle flirting, you tell yourself as you try to subtly fan your face. Kyle laughs and despite any trepidation you may have had around the sound, any fear he was making fun of you keeps its head down.

He grabs your hand and pulls it to hold his over the table.

“I’m teasing, love.” He leans to press his lips against your knuckles, and smooths out the tickle with his thumb, “Wouldn’t do anything like that in a place like this.”

Where would he do it then, you wonder. His house maybe? Maybe your flat? Oh God, do you want him to come back to your flat? Is that even an appropriate thing to want? Would he care?

Kyle’s thumb keeps rubbing at your knuckles, his smile even and kind. Nothing about you seems to fluster or surprise him. You sort of like that. You haven’t had to temper yourself or push yourself down to be someone else with him. And he hasn’t asked you to.

“So, what are we going to talk about now?” Kyle asks.

Sports, it turns out. The first time you’ve gotten Kyle talking all day, the first time he hasn’t directed it back to you, and it’s about sports. Rugby specifically, apparently he and his friends play on a rec team. 

It’s such a masculine thing that you don’t know why it surprises you.

Maybe it’s how gentle Kyle’s been with you all day, the lack of aggression when you’d been knocked over at the park, but seeing him talk so animatedly about his hobby you’re pleasantly surprised. He smiles so wide as he tells you stories about injuries, and his mate “Soap” who can’t go a season without twinging his knee. 

Honestly, you might be more surprised to hear him talking so much, but it’s nice. His voice rumbles at a pleasantly low register as he leans over the table to talk to you. His eyes sparkle and his lips seem to form every syllable with perfect precision, as if his mouth can’t help giving each letter the same courtesy of speech. It’s chatter enough to give you a break from speaking, but still feels like a conversation. You’re allowed to ask questions here, to prod into stories about his life outside of whatever box he’s restricted your answers to, and you do freely.

By the time your server brings your food, Kyle doesn’t feel like a stranger. In fact your brain has squarely put him in the category “boyfriend material.” If he talked about you with the same enthusiasm you might die.

You give the server a quick thank you as they place your food in front of you, and you settle your napkin in your lap. Kyle’s hand drops to his lap as he does the same and knocks his fork to the floor. The huff he lets out is one of good natured annoyance as he ducks under the table to fetch it. He passes the dirty fork to the server and they promise to return with a clean one. 

Kyle pours you another glass of wine as he waits and you sip at it for something to do. It’s only polite to wait for him to be able to eat before you tuck in. Plus a little liquid confidence never hurt anyone. 

You take a longer sip when Kyle looks to take his new fork from the server and feel the warm tingle of alcohol slipping into your veins. You’ve spent all day with this guy and he still makes you nervous, though the reason has shifted from this morning. Your stomach flutters with butterflies instead of rolling with a sense of danger, and though that little voice in the back of your head nags that this guy is still a stranger you’re able to shrug it off easily. 

It's anticipatory nerves. You’re waiting for something to happen, for the other shoe to drop, and now that the day is almost over you’re worried there may not have been any shoes in the first place. Kyle is exactly what he’s presented himself to be, a gentleman who wants to give you a good day. A good date, you amend. It’s been a fantastic date, even if the point of it hasn’t been to get to know each other as much as to get revenge on your ex.

The thought reminds you to snap a picture of dinner, and as you tug your phone from your purse Kyle reaches across the table to refill your wine. It makes for a great shot, your “new man” giving you a generous pour of a nice bottle of wine with a table full of gourmet food. The only thing you’re missing is two dozen roses and a jewelry box and this would scream “upgrade.” 

You wonder if you could get the bouquet Kyle got you from the car.

He sets the wine back in its place and takes your hand as you settle your phone back in your purse. He raises his wine glass with a prompting look for you to do the same.

“To a wonderful date,” Kyle says, tapping his wine glass against yours, “I’ve enjoyed every minute.”

“You’ve been amazing.” You tell him pulling your glass back to take a drink. “I think every woman on earth will be jealous of these pictures.”

Kyle hums and sets his glass down to start cutting into his food. He spears a bite with his fork and holds it out to you.

“Open,” He offers and you lean forward to let him place it on your tongue. It’s delicious, and the look Kyle gives you as you pull away could fuel your wet dreams for months.

You grab your wine and down it, trying to drown the memory of Kyle’s thumb pressing down against your tongue, that same command to open bouncing through your head.

Kyle pours you another helping with a smile, and pretends to sip at his own glass.

*

You’re feeling pleasantly tipsy by the time you finish dinner and Kyle finishes signing the check. Your body buzzes warmly with wine, and your head is just fuzzy enough to notice without making you sleepy. You’re right at that stage of alcohol consumption where your brain is pumping out feel good hormones and you’re itching to be touched.

Kyle’s hand slides across the small of your back as you stand, and you feel your nerves light up at the touch. Then feel the heat of his hand drip down your spine to pool between your legs. You can still remember how his fingers had slid over your thigh earlier, and a shiver slips through you. You want more than just casual touching.

“Cold?” Kyle asks, pulling you closer against his side.

“Not really,” You tell him, though you see no reason why that would stop you from cuddling up against him. Big warm man.

“I had a really great time tonight,” Kyle says, steering you towards your car. You pout. Those are the date wrap up words.

“Me too.” You wish it didn’t have to end.

“Can I walk you to your car?” Kyle offers, though it’s pointless to ask when he’s already doing it. It still makes you smile, makes you nod.

It’s quiet walking back to your car. You feel like you’re dragging your feet, trying to find some way to linger in the moment before you leave and never see Kyle again. This day, this date, has been perfect. It needs a perfect ending.

You stop at your car and turn to face Kyle. He looks… conflicted. His brows drawn with worry and his jaw clenched. You don’t think he wants it to end either.

Emboldened by the alcohol you get your second bad idea of the day.

You grab his shirt and drag him close to kiss him.

And he grabs you like he’s been waiting for this for years.

He's rougher this time when he kisses you. His hands wander to grab at your waist, your hips, your thighs, squeezing and pulling like he could engulf you in the feeling. You can barely breathe, your nose stuffed full of that sweet earthy scent and the slight sour note of sweat as Kyle's tongue pushes into your mouth. Your stomach flips and heat pulses between your legs as he strokes his tongue against yours, teasing you into a lapping dance that you struggle to follow. Your head spins from the alcohol, it has to be the alcohol.

The pulse in your core tightens pleasantly, a rapid contraction that makes your breath puff from you in a short, humiliating, half moan. And Kyle licks it from your lips, drags his tongue against the lipstick you'd applied and pulls it across to your cheek. Your lips part and you stick out your tongue to follow his lead, your tipsy brain only half following the steps, only for him to meet your tongue with a hunger you didn't know men could have. Not for you, at least. 

You arch into his hold, feeling the firmness of his chest against yours, as he pushes his knee between your legs. You’re pinned to the trunk of your car and as your back arches against the lid of your trunk you wonder what Kyle would do if you bent over it. He probably wouldn’t fuck you in this fancy restaurant’s carpark. Right? No. But maybe? No.

You shake your head to clear it and feel Kyle press against your hip. The heat of his rigid cock makes you want to rut against his thigh like an animal. God you want him. 

“Let me take you home,” He murmurs, dragging his lips over your cheek to nip at your earlobe, “Make you forget your ex.”

“Please.” You mumble, twisting your fingers in his shirt. He kisses you again, and you open for him without prompting. You can’t stop yourself from licking into his mouth, chasing the taste of him as excitement thrums through you. Spending the night with Kyle sounds like a dream come true.

Your ass bumps your car against as your cant your hips against his leg.

Spending the night…

You should grab a change of clothes.

“You’re driving?” You ask, your head fuzzy as you pull away.

Kyle hums, “Don’t think I should let you drive like this.”

That’s fair, you may have had a little too much to drink.

And doesn’t that just make you all the warmer?

Kyle’s been such a fucking gentleman, the idea that he’d take advantage of you like this makes you want to pull his cock out right here. He’s so considerate, offering to drive, offering to make you forget your ex, paying for everything all day- God! God, you just want him to be a little scummy, to have that one little thing that’s wrong with him for your benefit. You want him to make a mess of you because you know he’ll put you back together again.

“Let me grab clothes,” You tug at his hips when he tries to pull away, not eager to let him move too far when you’re buzzing like this. Still, you have to be an adult.

You pop the trunk and grab a dress from your suitcase. You’re in a hurry, and you’ll be back for your car later, who cares if you’re a little fancy tomorrow?

Kyle’s hands slip over your ass and you push back into the feeling.

“Fuck me you’ve got a nice ass.”

You giggle at Kyle’s groaned compliment, and straighten up to watch him adjust himself as you slam the trunk shut.

“Your place?” You remind him, and he slides his hand into place against your back to guide you to his car.

Those wonderful fingers stroke over your panties the entire drive, teasing your sopping cunt and dragging down your bare thighs. His body presses you against the elevator wall, his lips trailing  over your neck and his teeth nipping at your pulse as you climb to his flat. His hands barely leave your hips long enough to unlock the door and even once it’s open he all but shoves you toward the bedroom.

You try to get his fly open as soon as you get inside, but-

“Want to fuck you properly,” He insists, “like you deserve.”

You’re not going to argue with that.

Especially not when he strips his shirt off as soon as he flicks the lights on in his bedroom. All that firm muscle you’d felt earlier in the day on full display, with a nice smattering of hair down his chest to the fly of his trouser, it makes your mouth water. You’re all too quick to follow in stripping, the alcohol making you feel bold. Kyle’s eyes rake over you, and the burst of heat that follows their path makes you feel sexy; wanted. When’s the last time a man looked at you like that? Like he’d walk through Hell just for a photo of you.

He’s quick with his trousers, tugs his boxers down with them and kicks them to the side with his shoes.

Your eyes follow his hands, stopping on the flash of metal that peeks out from the dark foreskin at the head of his half-hard cock. Your mouth waters. You’ve never wanted to blow someone so badly in your life. Kyle looks down and smiles.

“Was worried it might scare you off,” He confesses. The knowledge that you could worry him sparks in your chest pleasantly.

“Not scared,” You mumble, watching him settle on the bed and wrap a hand around his cock. He strokes it, watching you, and you feel the air settle on your heated skin.

“Want to taste it?” He asks, and you fall to your knees so quickly it hurts. You must wince because Kyle reaches for you with concerned eyes, and pulls you up from the floor onto the bed.

“Get comfortable baby,” He advises, “you’re not going anywhere.”

As if to demonstrate Kyle scoots to lay back against the pillows, spreading his legs wide enough for you to crawl between them and settle on your stomach. Definitely more comfortable. Your knees will thank you.

You spit on your hand and wrap it around Kyle’s cock, giving him a testing stroke before you lean close to drag your tongue up his length. He’s so warm and thick in your hand, you wonder how he’ll feel stretching you out.

“Fuck,” Kyle hisses when you flick your tongue against the piercing that works it’s way through the head of his gorgeous cock, “ dirty girl.” A flush of heat ripples over you, and you drag your tongue against the metal again, letting those two words work their way through you again and again. 

You open your mouth, hold your tongue out to drag long slow licks over the head of Kyle’s cock, letting him watch the wiggle of your tongue, the twist of the ring and the pump of your hand. It feels like magic watching his pupils dilate in the low light, his teeth gritting before his head drops back and his hand finds its way into your hair. 

“Filthy,” He mutters, “perfect beautiful, filthy girl.” He takes a breath and his fingers tighten in your hair, his head raising as he adjusts the pillows behind his head. “You like it?” He asks and you- God you feel bold, feel like proving him right, you take his cockhead into your mouth and close your lips around it with a pleased hum.

Praise was always what got you, but now you were wondering if that’s just because you heard it so rarely. Kyle had showered you with affection all day, and now to hear even the slightest dirty talk from him you feel like you’ll burst into flames. 

You flick your tongue against the ring, tasting the metal and the salt of his skin, yeah you like it. 

Your eyes cross a little looking at the ring that sits at the base of his cock, the piercing you still haven’t quite figured out, but desperately want to press your nose against. 

“Feels even better inside of you,” Kyle presses, his hand giving the slightest pressure, encouraging more than demanding you to take more of him. 

Your eyes flutter closed and you flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock as you bob your head down his length. The skin is soft under your tongue, soft and warm. His cock twitches against your tongue, and you hollow your cheeks to suck, unwilling to hit your gag reflex so soon. You want to be good for him, to make this good for him, and your head is still swimming just enough from the alcohol that you’re unwilling to risk gagging. 

Soft mouth, you think to yourself as Kyle tells you.

“That’s it love, just as much as you can take.” He wraps his hand over yours and pumps it up and down his length as you bob your head to meet his fingers. Your nose bumps his fist and the flutter in your stomach clenches hard enough to force a needy little whine from you. 

Kyle’s grip on your head tightens to an almost painful degree and holds you in place, his hand stroking up to press against your lips as you try to swallow around the cock on your tongue. You mouth fills with saliva and each bump against your lips makes you feel like it’ll leak out, already you can feel drool starting to slick at the corners.

Kyle pulls you off and tells you, “spit” before you can do anything else. The command in his voice is too strong to ignore, and though it feels humiliating you let your spit drip onto the head of his cock. He holds you there, hovering above it, watching the rivulets of it drip down the length only to be caught in the stroke of your layered fingers.

“So good at following orders, aren’t you, doll?” You nod and it pulls at Kyle’s grip, the short bursts of pain doing nothing to dissuade you from attempting to get him in your mouth again.

You hold your tongue out to catch the ring of his Prince Albert with the tip of your tongue, the warm metal so tantalizingly close and yet so far away. The slick pump of your spitty fingers fills the room. The push of his foreskin against the flared head with each stroke makes your mouth water. You wonder, if you ask, will he come on your face? Do you want him to come on your face? To paint you with ropes of warm come only to sweep it off with his fingers and push it into your all too eager mouth? You do. You really do.

Which must show on your face, because Kyle groans and squeezes your fingers tight around his cock.

“Come up here love, let me taste you.”

You pull off his cock with a pop and lap at the pre-come starting to bead around his piercing. The bitter fluid and the metal tang burst on your tongue and you find yourself distracted circling your tongue over his slit. Kyle tugs at you, and you’re forced to crawl up his deliciously toned body.

He helps you settle your knees on either side of your head, and before your brain can lodge a single syllable of worry over being too heavy for him, his hands have clamped onto your thighs and pulled you against his mouth.

The noise that leaves you is absolutely sinful. Half shocked cry, half moan, as his lips close around your clit and suck, pulling the tight bud with a pressure that makes you want to buck. Your hands find the edge of the headboard and grab on, your chin dropping to your chest to watch the way Kyle’s eyes lid with pleasure at the first taste of you.

His tongue cards flat through your folds, a leisurely stroke that feels like it’s prepping your body for the firm roll of his tongue against your clit. Back and forth and around, circling your clit with determined strokes only to lick over it, each roll making heat pulse through your core. Pleasure clenches in your stomach, making you gasp at the focused lap of his tongue. 

Kyle groans, his tongue leaving your clit to lick between your folds and tease at the entrance of your cunt. Gentle pressure that strokes at the soft wet skin, teasing the edge of your pussy until you’re ready to beg for him to push it inside. Your back curls, and you lean your forehead against the edge of the headboard, your traitorous hips rocking into the roll of Kyle’s tongue.

His nose bumps against your clit and a quiet noise escapes your throat. He tips his head back to direct his attention back to the sensitive bud. His tongue traces patterns over your clit, flicking against it until the jolts of pleasure leave you panting, your hips jerking with each move of his tongue. Your cunt feels like it’s melting.

Each touch to your clit zips up your spine and drags back down to pool between your legs, your cunt fluttering and clenching around nothing as your brain attempts to keep up with the stimulation. Kyle’s mouth is like a furnace, stroking wet heat over your core in long luxurious licks that drag slick up and down your slit. The prick of his mustache against sensitive skin as he turns to wipe his lips against your thigh tickles, but all you can focus on is how wet his mouth is.

His teeth tease the soft skin of your inner thigh, and your stomach flips. You try to mentally will him to bite, to mark you with that sharp pain that will slip like water through your veins and make you all the more pliant for him. Instead, those neat white points trail back to your cunt, and scrape over your clit with a pleased hum. You gasp, and shudder against his mouth. 

Kyle kisses your cunt with tongue and gently nipping teeth, bringing heat rushing to your cunt until it’s positively tingling with the need for more; the need to be filled. His thumbs rub against your skin in gentle soothing circles, attempting to make up for the iron grip that the rest of his fingers have on you. His hands are spread wide and greedy, pulling you into place and holding you there. You can offer no resistance, but why would you want to? Kyle’s mouth is wickedly clever and you think of the way his tongue had twisted against yours as it wiggles against your clit, edging you closer and closer to orgasm. 

And you can feel yourself start to give. The attention to your clit makes your legs shake, muscles starting to pulse and pull tight with your need. Your hips jerk and thrust against his mouth, your body desperate for more. Your breath comes quick, your moans grow louder, your vision blurs as your eyes roll. You shudder and shake as your cunt clenches tight and releases. You try to focus on the feeling, to will the orgasm to happen.

Sparks of pleasure that make your stomach flip and your legs shake. Your poor pussy desperately squeezing like a vice as if that will be enough to fill it up. And Kyle’s mouth working over you like he’s never enjoyed anything more. 

His tongue buries itself inside your tight cunt, and he shakes his head to rub his nose against your clit. The low groan that purrs against your heated skin makes your legs clench, and when he drags his tongue back up to wrap his lips around your clit you come.

Your body curls in on itself and your hands shoot from the headboard to grip at his hair. Your legs shake and you let out a pathetic whimpering moan that seems to build louder, higher, with each encouraging lick to your clit. Your pussy clenches hard, tight, tight, tight, and then releases with a flutter as you squeeze your eyes shut and try not to crush Kyle’s head between your thighs.

Kyle’s grip shifts and in a flurry of movement you’re flipped into your back on the mattress. Your knees hook over Kyle’s shoulders and you slip off to bounce against the bed with a shriek before his hands are pressing against the back of your thighs, his eyes trained on your cunt as he slides that perfect cock over your wet folds. Your hands fly to grab his wrists, to slide over his forearms, up his biceps, to claw at his shoulders as he leans his weight onto you and folds you in half.

The head of his cock catches your entrance, and pushes inside.

Your breath stops, held back by the burn of stretch as your cunt is filled. Kyle’s cock works you open centimeter by centimeter, pressing in and in until your chest feels locked too tight to do anything but make your mouth gape like a fish. His hips press flush against your ass, his hands squeeze your thighs. His hips pull back and thrust into you hard, hitting some delicious bundle of nerves that makes you throw your head back as your back arches to try and push him deeper.

The air rushes back into your lungs in time to hear Kyle’s low moan join your own high pitched,

“Fuck!”

You can feel his piercing nudging against your walls, pressing with the head of his cock against that deep throbbing part of you that sparks with a mixture of pain and pleasure that makes your head spin. You can barely get a breath in around the thrust of Kyle’s hips, can’t think of anything but ‘too much’ and ‘not enough’ and ‘more, more, more.’ You rake your nails down Kyle’s chest, scrambling to find purchase as your hips start to ache with the strain of being forced into position.

The sound of wet skin against skin fills the room, accenting the fever pitch of your moans, punched out with each slap of Kyle’s hips against you. His cock feels like it’s reaching your stomach, twisting you into knots that spill molten heat into your limbs until they start to shudder from the strain. Your head is fuzzy with pleasure, unthinking and uncaring about anything but the slick slide of cock in and out of your cunt.

He’s so warm, his skin is so fucking warm, and his piercing tugs at the rim of your entrance as he pulls out to slap his thick cock against your still buzzing clit.

“Pretty thing,” He coos, “tell me what you want.”

Your breath shudders, sparks splintering through you with each slap against your clit. The pain is dull, but the humiliation of watching him toy with you makes heat bloom over your cheeks.

“Fuck me,” You whimper. You’re not sure if you mean it as a command, or if you mean it simply as an expletive. It doesn’t matter, your pathetic lips form the syllables and Kyle fills in the rest, sliding his cock back home in your needy little cunt.

“Yeah,” He breathes, “that’s all you need isn’t it?” His cock keeps hitting that perfect throbbing spot, pressing into that tight bundle of nerves that feels so impossibly deep, fucking the air out of you until you’re gasping and writhing and all but begging to feel it again. “You want me to keep you, love?” He offers, “Keep you a pretty little doll, nice tight hole always wet for me, not a thought in that pretty head of yours?”

You nod, maybe it’s the alcohol or the desperation to have someone like Kyle want someone like you but when his hand reaches to wrap around your throat, his thumb pressing up against your jaw, you tip your head and tell him, “Yes God!” 

You want him to fuck you like this every day, to treat you like a princess and take you through orgasm after orgasm until you can’t take it anymore. You want and you want. You want so badly it feels like it’ll swallow you whole.

“Mine,” Kyle tells you, and you whimper.

“Yes,” You plead, “Yes, yes, yes.”

It shudders through you, arches down your back as you press into his grip. Your legs squeeze together, that aching point pooling through your musculature, working its heated fingers into every corner of you. Kyle works a hand between your thighs and pinches your clit hard; you see stars. Your body jerks and shakes, and you feel a rush of liquid between your legs, hear the wet squelch of it as his cock continues pumping into you as you come.

And come.

*

When you wake up in the morning it’s to soft sunlight streaming in through gauzy curtains and an empty bed. The duvet is nicely weighted and the sheets are so soft you’re almost tempted to fall asleep again, but the noise of movement from outside the room rouses you enough to sit up and take stock of your surroundings. You hadn’t gotten a good look at Kyle’s place when you’d tumbled in last night but it’s nice. He’s organized and has more of a personal style than you can say for most men. 

Worry starts to creep in almost immediately. Had you made the wrong call coming home with him? What if he thought you were easy? Or threw you out now that he’d gotten what he wanted.

Oh my God you don’t have your car. You can’t just leave you’ll have to call an uber back to the restaurant and- Fucking hell, why did you do this? Where’s your common sense? How are you going to get your car? What if it’s been towed, or broken into, or-

Kyle pushes the door open with two mugs of tea clutched in his hands. He looks surprised to see you up, and shoulders the door the rest of the way open with a pleased smile.

“Good morning.” He says, that same gentle, eager, tone he’d used to take you home last night making your brain fuzzy. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” You fumble for the correct response, “I, um- thanks. For letting me sleep over.”

“Of course,” Kyle sets a mug with little cat pawprints on it on the table beside you, and perches himself on the edge of the bed by your feet, “I’m never going to kick a pretty girl out of bed.”

“Oh.” You say, more to yourself than anyone else. You don’t know what to say to that, and make yourself busy with grabbing the mug and blowing on the steaming tea. Kyle hums, watching you over the rim of his mug as he takes a sip.

He makes a noise when he swallows, and lowers the mug with pursed lips.

“So, I was thinking.” He starts and you feel your heart drop.

He was thinking you shouldn’t post the photos, that you should never see each other again, that you should leave soon because he has someone better coming over.

“There’s a great breakfast place down the street, if you’re hungry.” He says, almost shyly, “We could start date two with pancakes?”

You feel your heart lurch in your chest, hopeful.

“Yeah?” You ask and he smiles.

“Yeah,” like it’s the easiest thing in the world, “I’d be stupid lettin’ you get away.” You smile, and sip your tea to cover some of the warmth in your chest. “I think we’ve got a real spark.”

“Me too.” You agree. It feels like an admission, like something you should keep close to your breast where the rest of your silly fancies live, but-

But you want Kyle to know.

You want him to know that you like him, that you want him, that it wasn’t all just some revenge plot that’s gone terribly awry. Most importantly you want this to be real, to give yourself a real chance with an amazing guy.

To forget about what’s-his-name permanently.

“But can I get french toast instead?” You ask, already feeling your stomach rumble. Kyle grins.

“Oh doll, after what you’ve given me, you can have whatever you want.”

*

Gaz scrolls through his security footage while you shower, saving sections of video from the night before to a secure folder. Your ass wiggling in front of the camera as you blow him, your silly little head bobbing while your cunt is on full display. Your lips wrapped around his cock in a different camera’s lens, lashes fluttering and drool dripping from you as you bob your head up and down his length. He skips forward a few minutes and switches the camera to watch your thighs flexing as he holds you down against his face to eat your cunt, your hips grinding down against him and your lips parted as you whimper and moan for him. Another few minutes and your tits are bouncing as he fucks into you, your head tipped back and your lips parted around a perfect ‘o,’ your legs against his chest as you claw at his grip on your throat. More time, another position; Gaz’s hands digging into the dip of your waist as you ride him, groping at your chest, your cunt swallowing his cock with every motion of your hips. God, your ass looks good from this angle, he’ll start easing you into the idea of him fucking it soon. 

You’re such a sweet thing, so easy to get information out of and convince of things. So eager to be good that you’ll go against your own judgement to please him. He’s never seen a rabbit walk directly into a trap, but you? What a silly, stupid girl. You probably don't even remember him coming in you.

You’re perfect.

He grabs a screencap of you riding him and sends it to his groupchat with the rest of the 141.

Gazoline: [sent image] Gazoline: Easy.

A typing bubble pops up immediately. Followed by another.

Ghost: Told ya. Sudz: Yer jokin Gazoline: Lt with the assist. Sudz: YER JOKIN

He locks his phone hearing you shut the shower off and shoves it in his pocket. It buzzes insistently as you poke your head out of the bath. You’re clutching a towel around your chest, as if Gaz hasn’t already seen it all.

“I was just thinking about how lucky it is I have a change of clothes.” You tell him.

“Well, look at that,” Gaz hums, “that is lucky.”

And what is luck if not careful planning?

[ireverie]

girls goon too

pairing ↠ stepbro!sunghoon x (f) reader x stepbro!heeseung

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, stepcest, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving) / face fucking, virgin! reader, dubcon

summary ↠ sunghoon can't take it anymore. you just won't stop gooning in your bedroom for all the world to hear, and he's tired of it. he's pretty sure all you do with your spare time is watch porn. heeseung suggests that he just jerks off, but his morals won't let him; until he decides that he can't hold back anymore. he has to shut you up.

wc ↠ 5.3k

a/n ↠ nohyuck version of this fic originally posted on my blog revehae. i am not plagiarizing myself. this is my apology for missing my friday night drabble post. as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

“she’s doing it again,” sunghoon grumbled, walking into heeseung’s bedroom. only because the door was ajar, though. he knew the sight he’d walk in on if it was completely closed would be worse than what you were surely doing.

heeseung snickered, eyes fixed on his computer. “what’s the occasion? sixth-month gooning anniversary?”

sunghoon scoffed. he didn’t know why you did it. he thought jake was bad, but you were next level. “i thought surely she would give us a break for november.”

“and she did,” heeseung quipped, moving his mouse. “for all of three days.”

that was true. for the very first three days of november, the house had been relatively quiet apart from heeseung’s shouting when he was losing. then, on the fourth day, it was back to hearing your annoyingly perfect fucking moans in the afternoon.

and god forbid your parents would be coming home late. you were relentless on those days, touching yourself to no end. sunghoon couldn’t stand it. he hated minding his business, trying to rest or work or do anything that didn’t require thinking about the sounds you were making as you persistently edged yourself.

but he couldn’t help himself. sometimes, he could hear your moans even when you weren’t there, and that was when he knew he was finally losing what little bit was left of his goddamn mind. 

heeseung, on the other hand, didn’t seem as miffed. sunghoon was certain his brother could hear the noises you were making down the hall, but he was sitting here without a care in the world, typing an email to his professor of all things. which made no sense to sunghoon, considering he knew how much heeseung liked noisy sex.

“okay, i’ll bite,” sunghoon said, crossing his arms. “how in the hell are you okay with this?”

heeseung shrugged, trying and failing to suppress a smirk. he was well aware of the fact that sunghoon always got worked up when it came to you, which was fair. you were the biggest minx this world had ever known. “well, first of all,” heeseung started, snickering again. “there’s a thing called jerking off. i’m sure you’ve heard of it. it’s really popular amongst guys we know.”

sunghoon looked almost scandalized. “i’m not jerking off to my stepsister.”

“then, you’re an idiot,” heeseung retorted. “she’s given us enough material until new years. of the year after next.”

“it’s wrong.”

heeseung rolled his eyes. “you’ve got such a stick up your ass, like a proper princess or something.”

“i’ll beat your ass, hee,” sunghoon warned. 

heeseung threw his hands up. “i’m just saying. i’m not telling you to stick her in a washing machine, bro. but the answer’s obvious. just jerk off. you know you want to.”

sunghoon sighed. had he thought about it? obviously. but he couldn’t shake how wrong it felt, even if you made him perpetually horny. “i want to smack the shit out of you right now, but i haven’t done it yet.”

rather than recoil, heeseung laughed. that asswipe finds humor in everything, sunghoon thought to himself, irritated. “and i commend your patience, man,” heeseung replied. “but it’s only making you more frustrated when you could just bust a nut and be happy.”

sunghoon was thinking about it now. well, he had thought about it countless times, but he had never allowed himself to stoop that low. you were his younger stepsister and it was his responsibility to take care of you. not picture your face as you moaned and imagine how you would feel, tight and sticky and creamy as you wrapped around his…

heeseung broke the silence, musing more so to himself, “maybe we should put her in the washing machine.”

sunghoon’s eyes flickered. “what the hell, man?”

“my bad,” heeseung replied, although he didn’t look very apologetic. “i was just thinking out loud.”

fuck, now sunghoon was picturing that too. your house had one of those washing machines that opened from the top, not the front. too many times had sunghoon seen you struggle to take your clothes out, dangling over the washing machine and nearly falling inside. he would offer to help, every now and then, but he liked watching you climb the washing machine just to get your clothes from the very bottom.

it was much more realistic for you to get stuck in it then the kinds of washing machines in porn. 

heeseung broke the silence again, still thinking. it was his greatest skill and simultaneously his worst habit. “if you’re so against it, why haven’t you just asked her to shut the fuck up then?”

that was a good question. sunghoon wasn’t the kind of guy to shy away from an altercation, not with friends and not with family. he had certainly never shown heeseung any mercy. he loved his brother, but he was annoying as all fuck.

“i see,” heeseung said, smirking. see, annoying. “it’s because you don’t really want her to stop.”

sunghoon sighed. “yeah, fine. i don’t want her to stop. happy?”

heeseung burst out laughing. always laughing, always scheming. he was going to get a stocking full of coal for christmas. “i have an idea.”

“oh, god,” sunghoon groaned.

heeseung finally pressed send on his email and turned around in his desk chair. “hear me out. we should fuck her.”

sunghoon gawked in disbelief. then again, none of heeseung’s ideas were ever truly brilliant. “you’re insane,” he murmured.

“thanks,” heeseung chirped, the insult rolling off his shoulders. “just sleep on it.”

“you know what? sure,” sunghoon replied, walking out of his brother’s room and shutting the door. he didn’t want to hear another word.

he went about his day like everything was normal, going on a walk so that he didn’t have to hear you, eating dinner and watching netflix in the living room to ignore the fact that you existed altogether. and then he went to bed.

sunghoon couldn’t fucking sleep. on it, over it, under it. he couldn’t sleep whatsoever. 

it wasn’t like you were just loudly moaning all day long, that would be absurd. but every now and then, there would be a whimper you’d let slip. sunghoon could tell that you were actually trying to be quiet. but this was one of those nights where your parents wouldn’t be back and you were taking advantage of that. again.

sunghoon decided that he was at his breaking point. the need for you was too goddamn strong and he was tired of pretending that he was better. he couldn’t ignore it anymore. he couldn’t fight it, suppress it.

he threw the blankets off his bed and went to heeseung’s room, the door closed this time. he knocked on the door and called out, “stop jerking off and get your ass out here.”

sunghoon heard a groan, one of the disgruntled sort. a few seconds later, heeseung opened the door, a scowl on his face. “what the hell, man? your voice ruined my nut.”

it was sunghoon’s turn to laugh. he clasped a hand on heeseung’s shoulder. “don’t worry. you’ll be in the mood again in no time.”

heeseung lifted a brow. “are you saying what i think you’re saying?”

sunghoon nodded. 

“we’re gonna teach her a lesson.”

“we’re gonna put her in the washing machine?”

sunghoon’s smile instantly dropped and his hand fell from heeseung’s shoulder. “why the fuck are you both so addicted to porn?” he asked.

the excited shimmer in heeseung’s eyes died a little. “no, i was… i was just kidding. let’s go.”

sunghoon sighed and started down the hall to your bedroom, deciding not to argue heeseung on that. it would be a waste of valuable time.

sunghoon knocked on the door and called out your name. “can we come in?”

there was audible shuffling as you called back, “just a moment!”

heeseung glanced over at sunghoon. “so, how we doing this?”

sunghoon looked calm, collected. as if fucking his stepsister was something he did on the regular. “just follow my lead.”

you opened the door, a towel thrown around you. but your skin looked damp with sweat, not water. your face was a little flushed. it was obvious that you were naked. “um, can i help you guys?” you asked, somewhat breathless. 

sunghoon looked you up and down subtly. heeseung, on the other hand, was damn near ogling you. the former repeated, “can we come in?”

“um, i guess,” you murmured, stepping out of the way so that they could enter your bedroom.

heeseung closed the door behind himself, not that there was anyone to worry about. it was only the three of you in the house at the moment. 

sunghoon glanced away, looking for traces of what you had been doing. he found them very quickly; your laptop shut on your bed, the blankets messily thrown on top to conceal the damp spots in your sheets, and your shirt and shorts on the floor by your bed, implying you were only in your underwear.

“is there something you guys need?” you asked, a bit annoyed at having been interrupted. 

sunghoon walked towards your desk where your laptop probably should have been, though he saw something fearful flash in your eyes. his brows furrowed, but he didn’t inquire about it. he would figure it out on his own. “do we have to need something to want to visit you?” sunghoon asked, a small smile on his face. “i haven’t seen you all day long. we just wanted to make sure you’re still alive.”

“oh, that’s… very sweet of you,” you murmured. “as you can see, i’m perfectly alive and breathing.”

“yeah, you’re breathing a lot,” heeseung commented. 

sunghoon chuckled. he moved away from your desk and instead towards your nightstand, noticing your eyes still watching him like a hawk. “relax. what’s got you so worked up?”

“i’m not worked up,” you lied, eyes darting between him and your bed. 

that was when it clicked in sunghoon’s brain. the bed. you didn’t want him to see the bed. he chuckled again, sitting down on top of it. “are you okay? you look a little… flushed.”

“yeah,” heeseung chimed in, moving your hair out of your face. you jolted. you had been paying so much attention to sunghoon that you failed to notice heeseung had creeped up behind you. “and sweaty.”

you released a shaky breath. you were nervous, but you couldn’t tell them that. because then they would start asking questions. “i’m okay, guys. you can go.”

“why are you trying to get rid of us?” heeseung asked, leaning in a little too close. “it’s almost like you’re hiding something.”

“what are you watching?” sunghoon asked, grabbing your laptop. 

your eyes widened in horror. “no, wait!” you exclaimed. you tried to stop him, but heeseung was quick to pull you back against his chest. 

sunghoon opened your laptop, being met with a twitter porn browser. he feigned surprise. “oh, wow,” he said, merely blinking. “wow.”

“what is it?” heeseung called from the other side of the room. 

sunghoon turned the laptop to face you and heeseung. “guess she’s really into… creampies, sucking dick, and doggy style.”

your face was hot with embarrassment and you thrashed in heeseung’s arms. “this is an invasion of privacy! you guys jerk off, don’t you?”

“jerk off? sure. watch porn for hours on end? no, i don’t,” sunghoon answered, setting your laptop down. he moved your blankets out of the way, revealing a few damp spots on your bed. “how long did you have to sit here for this to happen?”

you felt very exposed at the moment. like your deepest, darkest secret was steadily reaching its way around the whole world. “i’m not that bad,” you murmured, shy. 

heeseung laughed. he tugged at the towel and brought his hand to your chest, pinching your nipple. “not that bad? you almost gave poor sunghoon over there an aneurysm with how enticing you’ve been.”

your whined when heeseung squeezed your chest, tearing your gaze away from sunghoon to look up at him with wide eyes. “what are you doing?”

“fuck. yeah, that’s what i’m talking about, princess,” heeseung groaned, pressing himself against your ass. “those sweet sounds have been driving him mad.”

any other moment, sunghoon would have narrowed his eyes at heeseung and called him disgusting. but this was different. sunghoon didn’t care about what was right or wrong anymore. maybe he never truly had. what was certain right now was that any desire to behave in a morally acceptable manner was outweighed by the desire to fuck you brainless.

“bring her over here,” sunghoon said, shoving your laptop of the way to make room. 

heeseung grabbed your waist and led you towards the bed, pushing you towards his brother. sunghoon grabbed your chin, smoothing his thumb over your cheek. “gooning isn’t healthy,” he told you straightforwardly. “you know what you need?”

you glanced at him, fretful. the towel had completely fallen at this point, leaving you solely in your water, just as sunghoon had pieced together. “what?” you whispered.

“a fuck,” sunghoon replied unabashedly. “you’re so damn touch-starved. always complaining about how you want a boyfriend, but you never go out, because you’re too busy playing with your clit.”

your face was hot. honestly, they hadn’t given you the opportunity to cool down. but you had to admit that he was right. compared to how much you touched yourself, you didn’t go out enough.

“have you ever even had sex?” heeseung asked, running his hands up your thighs. 

you wanted to hide so fucking bad, but that clearly wasn’t an option. “no,” you replied, ashamed.

sunghoon snickered, because apparently that was funny. “obviously,” he said, moving his thumb to your bottom lip. “this pretty body has gone untouched for too many years, that’s all. once you get fucked, you’ll be as good as new. worked for jake. didn’t it, hee?”

“yep,” heeseung chirped, nodding. “he was the biggest gooner i’ve ever seen. jay had so many roommate horror stories. then, we got him some pussy, and he’s all better now. actually goes outside and gets light that isn’t from his laptop.”

“so, what do you say?” sunghoon asked, turning your head back to him. “want something other than your fingers inside you?”

your heart racing. were you really about to agree to getting fucked by your stepbrothers? when it was over, you could blame it on the fact that you genuinely were touch-starved and desperate for a release for all this pent-up frustration.

and because you really, really needed to come after having avoided it for hours, you nodded your head.

“words, princess,” heeseung said, his hands still gripping your thighs as he thought about how soft they were. “say it. say, ‘i want you to fuck me, heeseung.’”

you swallowed, but you weren’t going to disobey. “i… i want you to fuck me, heeseung.”

“jeez, you don’t have to beg. i’ll do it,” heeseung replied, playful as ever. “and because it’s your first time, i think we should do missionary. is that okay, princess?”

“that’s… fine,” you murmured timidly. it didn’t really matter to you how he fucked you. you just wanted someone inside you. 

heeseung was beaming, like he had prayed for this day and it was finally happening. “good. and if you ever want me to fuck you on all fours, you know the way to my room.”

the way heeseung was looking at you was entirely overwhelming, so you glanced over at sunghoon instead, though he was also watching you intently. “what about… you?” you asked. 

sunghoon chuckled, thumb sweeping over your lips. “i don’t need to fuck your pussy. i’ll leave that to heeseung. i just want to fuck this pretty little mouth that’s been keeping me up at night.”

heeseung, growing impatient, tugged at your panties. you lifted your hips, watching him drag them down your legs. “jesus,” he murmured. “they’re fucking drenched.”

“they better be,” sunghoon replied with a chuckle, stepping out of his pants. “long as she’s probably been wearing them.”

heeseung spread your legs, wanting to get a good look at the treasure hidden between them. he moaned at the mere sight of your pussy, dripping with arousal. “fuck, you don’t even need prep,” he mused.

as if you couldn’t get any more embarrassed than you already were. they knew exactly what to say to make you want to hide your face beneath a pillow and hopefully suffocate to death.

despite his declaration about you not needing prep, heeseung couldn’t help but drag his tongue along your folds, which made you gasp in surprise. it wasn’t a tentative lick, either; he was confident and unreluctant. you were clearly sensitive, but he didn’t seem to care, eager to suck and lick at you.

“heeseung,” you whimpered, involuntarily trying to close your legs. he swore his dick twitched when you said his name like that. 

all the while, sunghoon was stroking himself beside you, half hard. for the first time thinking about you at the same time that he touched his dick, and god, he really should have done it sooner. just the thought of you made his blood pump harder. 

heeseung pulled back after a moment or two when he was finally sated. “sorry,” he apologized, completely inauthentic. “just wanted a taste.”

sunghoon tapped your cheek. “open up, baby.”

you slowly opened your mouth, wide enough for him to push inside. which sunghoon seized the opportunity to do as soon as it presented itself. he was impatient now, tired of waiting. you had tortured him long enough with those pretty noises; it was time you paid him back for tolerating your horniness.

“fuck,” sunghoon cursed upon feeling the warmth of your mouth around his cock.

heeseung snickered. it was amusing to him that only a few hours ago, sunghoon said he was insane for suggesting that they fuck you. and now here he was with his cock down your throat. a few hours could truly change a man, for worse and for better. “how’s it going?” heeseung asked.

sunghoon closed his eyes, trying to go slow before he started fucking your throat with a purpose. he didn’t necessarily want to hurt you, but damn, he was getting pretty damn close. “how do you think?” he retorted.

you watched sunghoon as he slowly moved inside your mouth, though his patience was obviously dwindling by the second. part of you wanted to see what it would look like when he lost it all, but the other dreaded it, uncertain whether or not you could handle it.

you were still a virgin, after all. in the important and unimportant ways. you had never been fucked. you had most certainly never had your throat fucked until this very moment. the furthest you’d ever gone with a boy was a little bit of groping while kissing and even that was awkward.

heeseung licked his lips, appreciating that they were coated in your arousal. “taste so good, princess,” he said, dropping his hands down to his shorts.

you would have gawked when you glanced down and noticed the dent in them, even if it weren’t for the fact that your mouth was preoccupied. when did he get so hard? 

heeseung started to undress himself, pleased now that he had gotten a taste of you and eager to be inside you. he was quick to shed his shorts and the layer underneath, unafraid to show just how desperate he was. for him, it was easy to accept his attraction to you and even easier to act on it now that he had your consent.

he climbed onto the bed, grabbing your thighs again and spreading them apart. he gave them a few affectionate, departing kisses and sat up to grab his cock, bringing it between them. “say ‘goofer gooner’ if you’re ready,” heeseung joked, knowing you couldn’t speak.

you furrowed your brows, but you couldn’t even focus on his nonsense because sunghoon was noticeably forgoing all restraint. could you blame him? your mouth was warm, alive, and everything about you seemed to drive him straight through the brink of insanity. 

“you know, sunghoon,” heeseung started, gazing down at the little distance between your bodies. “you were right. i’m already in the mood again.”

you had that effect on him, on them. heeseung knew he probably should have fought it better, but he truly saw no point. it was easier to fold and surrender to the fact that he found you infuriatingly sexy, despite your tendencies. and with nothing more to say, he slowly but surely pressed himself inside you.

heeseung tipped his head back, already moaning like a bitch and he wasn’t even fully sheathed inside you yet. “holy fuck,” he said, his grip on your thighs tightening.

you whimpered, the sound muffled by sunghoon’s cock as his balls slapped against your chin. you immediately pulsed around heeseung’s cock, clinging to him like now that he was there, you would never let him go.

“holy fuck,” heeseung moaned again, stopping for a moment as if the breath had been completely sucked out of him. “so fucking wet, my dick just slides in.”

he was damn near flabbergasted. maybe there was benefit to you gooning for hours on end, a benefit that he got to reap. he had never seen anyone this wet before, much less felt anything this wet, and it was taking a toll on him. his head was already reeling.

“okay,” heeseung said, more so to himself. he was adjusting. “okay. fuck. i’m gonna move.”

and he did, growing more and more mesmerized with every thrust of his hips. his mouth hung open, moans of your name and explicit curses dangling from his lips with a shrill touch to them that only made you even more aroused.

to say nothing of the sounds sunghoon was making, almost directly in your ear. he was so close to your face that you could explode. he was finally moving comfortably, fucking your throat with a rhythm that almost made it hard to breathe. 

though you had no intention of making him stop. you had fantasized about making yourself available for this purpose many, many times. not necessarily to your stepbrother, but well, it wasn’t like you were discriminating. especially not when he sounded so goddamn sexy and his face was tensing the way it was in pleasure.

it was strange, but you found yourself going from solely craving the experience to wanting to pleasure them. and it would appear that you were doing a fantastic job without hardly even trying, all things considered.

heeseung was gripping on your thighs for dear life as if without the support, he would get blown away into the eighth dimension. or maybe drown in how wet you were, gushing around his cock, if not for him using your soft thighs as an anchor to keep him afloat.

“this sweet fucking pussy,” he sighed, losing himself in the vice of you. he had set a pace too, fucking you without intention of stopping. with every fiber of his being, deep and hard. “i could fuck you forever.”

you could sit here and take it forever. you had never felt so full in your life. your fingers hardly did the job, always reaching just shy of where you needed them instead of completely offering you the satisfaction you’d long craved. and here heeseung was handing it to you on a silver platter.

the only problem was that you felt slightly overwhelmed with so much happening at one time in two different holes. you didn’t know who to pay attention to; sunghoon fucking your throat with a vengeance, eager to gain something out of your mouth for once, or heeseung railing you to kingdom come, making you feel hot everywhere.

you found yourself trying to juggle both, eyes flitting between them, moaning around sunghoon’s dick at heeseung’s angled thrusts and throbbing around heeseung at every guttural groan that slipped from sunghoon’s mouth. you couldn’t help yourself; it was too goddamn arousing.

sunghoon noticed how fucked out you looked, eyes rolling back to another timeline, and it was doing unimaginable things to his cock. you looked better than he could have ever imagined and he knew that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he left you hoarse and rasping.

with that thought, he grabbed your hair to push you down and started to fuck your head against the mattress rather roughly, which caught you by surprise. you tried to take it, you really did, but it was overwhelming. you could barely breathe.

“take it,” he hissed, holding your head in place. you looked pretty like this, struggling to keep up with his hectic movements.

your eyes were watering as his cock went too deep for you to handle, and you started gagging. sunghoon moaned, but pulled your head off him to let you relax for a second, a string of saliva connecting your mouth and the head of his cock.

“breathe,” he said, letting one hand run through your hair almost tenderly.

you nodded, willing yourself to relax. all the while, sunghoon marveled at how pretty you looked with saliva on your face and tears strolling down your cheeks.

“you guys okay up there?” heeseung asked from between your legs, having noticed the action. 

“we’re fine,” sunghoon answered on your behalf. he moved his hand from your hair to your cheek. “you ready?”

you nodded your head. you couldn’t shake the urge to really make him proud, to satisfy all his inappropriate cravings. it was the least you could do when you had been tantalizing him for months on end.

“good girl,” sunghoon whispered, guiding his cock back to your mouth and this time using your hair to push your head onto his cock as he fucked your throat.

you moaned at the pet name, because something about the way it sounded coming from him made your head spin. maybe you were just horny and in dire need of a fuck like he’d said. maybe after you came, all of these feelings would wear off, and you would feel somewhat sane again. 

but you couldn’t deny that you were somewhat indulging in your fantasies here. you didn’t necessarily hate the the way sunghoon was treating you, even if it was a little beyond your limits and more than a little rough. but limits were just boundaries you’d yet explored.

heeseung was a different situation altogether. your pussy was still sensitive from the hours of playing with it and you were already about to come much before him. there was a familiar heat in your stomach and festering throb of energy in your core, only more intense than you had ever experienced.

but heeseung recognized it, even without being able to hear your sweet moans of his name. he could see it in your body language and it flattered him in a way; he always felt proud when he lasted longer than the person he was fucking, especially without necessarily even trying to finish them quicker.

“she’s gonna come,” heeseung pointed out, grinning. “come for me, princess. come on this dick. you know you want to.”

it was like he your voodoo doll or something, because merely seconds after those words parted from his mouth, you were shuddering and tightening around his cock with climax, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your toes clenching.

heeseung let out the pitchiest moan ever when you throbbed around him repeatedly. words could not describe how good it felt, but sounds could. and the sounds he was making were sensational, only contributing to the mind-numbing pleasure wrecking you from within.

“goddamn,” heeseung said, mesmerized by how hard you came. it was probably warranted after hours of resisting.

but the other thing on heeseung’s mind was how much wetter your pussy sounded, sticky with your release. he whined, literally going mad. he knew that his own orgasm wasn’t far out and just the squelch of your cunt could easily finish him off.

sunghoon was facing a similar predicament, fucking your mouth without restraint and not letting you escape his thrusts. “fuck, i’m gonna come,” he groaned. “swallow it. or don’t. it’s your sheets.”

the last thing you of all people cared about was having your sheets ruined. at the moment, you were more burdened with how sore your throat felt and how overstimulated your pussy was being fucked despite having already orgasmed. it literally felt like you’d had the soul fucked out of you.

you didn’t even know it was possible at this point, but sunghoon’s hips went faster. it was a brutal but steady pace, which was somewhat admirable. he was trying to get himself there, right over the edge, knowing release was only seconds away.

with a few more smacks, sunghoon released down your throat with the sexiest groan you’d heard, one that claimed every award. when you’d milked him of every drop, his hands tight on the sides of your face, his grip on your head slacked and he slowly pulled your mouth off him.

you swallowed what you could, but he had came so goddamn much at once, it was borderline ridiculous. what you couldn’t take dripped down your chin, blending with the saliva from the messy fucking.

heeseung glanced up at you and the sight of your cum-stained face triggered something so primal in him that he knew he wasn’t going to last another minute. “princess, where do you want me to come?” he asked breathlessly.

“inside,” you replied with maybe half your voice, if even. it hurt to speak. the sound pleased sunghoon.

the thought of coming inside your pussy had heeseung levitating and was the last push he needed to bring himself past the cusp of ecstasy. his hips stuttered as he came inside you, crying out half of your name, leaning on top of you as he buried his load inside your warm, wet, gushing, sticky hole.

a satisfied hum escaped you when you felt his cum seeping inside your pussy. why did it feel so good?

“d-don’t move yet,” you whispered, because it was all you could muster.

heeseung glanced up at you, recognizing the look of pleasure on your face. if he had the energy, he would tease you about how you wanted to feel him cum inside you, but he needed to catch his breath. so he answered with a nod.

sunghoon whistled. this had gone better than he’d hoped. “well goddamn. you’re just a virgin slut aren’t you?”

heeseung chuckled breathlessly. “she took that shit like a champ. i’m impressed.”

sunghoon kissed your forehead. “you did so good,” he whispered, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “i’ll get you some water in a second.”

you nodded, appreciating the tender side after all that had just happened. your heart felt a little lighter than usual, despite its racing. you had so many questions, but you didn’t want to strain your voice. was it normal to feel like a different person after having sex for the first time?

heeseung was going to pull out, but seeing the look on your face, he decided to stay nestled inside you for a little longer. “you okay?”

you bobbed your head. “i’m good.”

heeseung snickered and teased, “whoa there, batman. what have you done with my sister?”

you rolled your eyes, but giggled. sunghoon joined in on the laughter, but he added, “don’t speak. you’ll make it worse.”

heeseung sighed contentedly. knowing that you wouldn’t say anything in response, he decided to tease, “our little gooner.”

you glared at heeseung wordlessly, conveying a lot of different things with your eyes. 

sunghoon translated playfully, “i think that means ‘fuck you.’”

“again?” heeseung joked. “what can i expect from a gooner. but hey, i guess girls can goon too.”

[keferon]

May I ask what were the best transformers media you ever saw/read?

Well Transformers Prime, Transformers 1986 and IDW comics are having the first place that’s for sure

And then the second place is kind of shared by Fall of Cybertron, Exodus, Prime wars trilogy, Robots in disguise(2001) and Transformers One.

The third place goes to G1, Animated, Earthspark, Armada, War for Cybertron Netflix series, Aligned Robots in disguise, Bumblebee, Rise of the Beasts and Cyberverse because I only liked some little parts of them.

And then I also saw some of the Bay movies, Victory and Headmasters and didn’t like them at all.

Separate first place for J-Decker. It is not exactly Transformers but it is a show about giant robots and I loved it

[c4toru]

your overworked bf makes it up for neglecting you ^o^

it was another one of those nights where he stayed up in the dark depths of the night, scribbling down different notes for himself to review the following day. he had been overwhelmed with the amount of preparation that needed to be done for his upcoming project at work.

you couldn’t remember the last time you even kissed properly, aside from the little pecks he gave you when he left for work or when he shushed you to sleep. you perk up as you hear him sigh loudly as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before closing his notebook and setting it to the side.

“you’re still up pretty girl?” he worriedly asks, turning his body over so he can spoon your plush body. he’s met with uncomfortably loud silence but a firm grind of your soft body being pushed against his. confusion is plastered across his face but before he is able to get a word out, you speak up, “i miss you.. i-i want you” you whisper. he is so incredibly dumbfounded but still decided to indulge you further.

“how d’ya want me..?”

your naughty advances are what led you here, your pajama shorts lost on the floor while your full leg is hiked up to allow his now hardened cock to push its way past your warmth. “biiiig stretch honey- ngh!” he mumbles, shoving his girthy cock deep inside of you, hefty balls sitting perfectly against your swollen clit.

“o..oh f-feels so good mmf!” you babble, your dainty hand gripping onto your plump thigh as he’s rubbing slow n agonizing circles on your puffy clit. he’s licking a long stripe up the side of your neck, earning a breathy gasp from your lips. “i’m all the way up in here- hah..d’ya feel it? hmm?” he teases, pressing a heavy hand to the fat of your stomach.

“y-yes! so deep nngh.. gimmie more!” you cry, attempting to bounce your hips back onto his, desperate for friction. he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth before fucking up into you harshly, your aging bed creaking like there’s no tomorrow. he’s bringing his hand up from your clit to fondle your tit, grasping onto it as his leaky tip pounds against your sopping cervix.

“gonna give it all to you, ‘kay? be a good girl and take it.. hah.” he grumbles, your tight cunt creaming all over his cock, globs spilling down to his balls. your plush body jiggles as he rocks his hips into yours, hitting your g-spot repeatedly, causing tears to prick the corner of your eyes.

“m’cumming! f-fuckk .. don’t stop!” you squeal, his hand moving back down to your clit to rub sloppy circles around your nub. your cunt is fluttering around his lengthy cock when you feel his warmth begin to spill inside you, hot cum filling your insides. your mind exploding in pure bliss as specks of white begin to coat your entrance.

“nngh! so fuckin filthy..” he whines, your head toppling backwards to give him a sweetened kiss. he’s gripping into yours hips, slowly stroking his sensitive cock into you before pulling out and letting his fluids seep out.

he hates making his sweet girl feel so neglected but god.. make up sex sure does feel good

a/n : thank you so much for 1k !! i got a lot of asks for overworked/exhausted drabbles of various diff characters so i decided to write a miscellaneous one to satisfy some of you :D | thank you for all the support <3 , likes & reblogs are appreciated!

[navybrat817]

Okay, lovelies. Power went out and I can't do my work. 😭 So indulge with me if you will and Happy Moanday.

Good Vibrations

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: Over 650

Warnings: Established relationship, fingering, dirty talk, inappropriate use of Bucky's arm (or is it?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

Banner by the talented @cafekitsune

Just imagine that you're in the mood, but Bucky still has some work he has to finish up. The man wants nothing more than to spread your thighs apart and indulge. And he will. He’s hard just thinking about wrecking pretty hole, but he really does need to get one more thing done before he can.

So he gives you his arm to warm yourself up.

“You want me to use your arm?” you ask.

He doesn't always use his prosthetic, but offering it to you to get yourself off?

“Think of it like a personalized vibrator,” is all he says before he gets back to work.

“Then give me a mold of your cock,” you tease, hearing him laugh before you leave him be.

Propping yourself up on the bed once you’re naked it feels strange to put the metal hand between your thighs. The rest of the arm rests on your torso, the weight pleasant and not heavy. It’s easy to imagine Bucky is right there beside you, encouraging you.

“Play with your clit and open your pretty pussy up for me. Get it nice and wet.”

And you do. You rub the thumb along your bundle of nerves the same way he would. You're careful when you slip a finger through your wet folds before you push it into your soaked channel. It feels good because it's his finger. And…

It starts vibrating.

You jolt with a surprised moan when a second finger joins the first, the vibrations making your walls clench. The thumb on your clit increases in pressure, making you moan again. It dawns on you through your rising pleasure that you aren't controlling the fingers.

Bucky is.

“Neat trick, isn't it, baby?” you hear from the other room, your body quivering. “All I have to do is think about what I want my hand to do to you and it does it. You’re so wet, aren't you? Fucking yourself on my fingers.”

You cry out when the fingers thrust and curl, searching for that spongy sweet spot that only he can find. “Bucky, please,” you beg.

Your heart pounds in your chest and you can't grip his hair since he isn't between your legs, so you play with your tits instead. Pinching your nipples, groping the soft flesh. His hands and mouth always feel incredible and you can't help but push your hips down as the fingers move faster.

“Take a picture and send it to me,” he calls out with a groan and you know the not-so-subtle beautiful bastard is likely done working and jerking off. “Wanna see my fingers in that sweet pussy.”

It isn't easy to grab your phone with your ragged breathing and trembling form, but you somehow manage. Spreading your legs wider, you do your best to capture the best image. You almost drop your phone when he adds a third finger, the vibrations increasing more. Fuck, you were going to spiral in the best way.

“I… I got it…” you whine, biting your lip when you see the picture and press send. The sight of his metal fingers opening you up is so dirty, so filthy, so hot. Now you want to take more photos for him to jerk off to layer. “Please. I’m close.”

“Come all over them, baby,” he grunts. He sounds as close as you feel. “Make me proud.”

You snap, coming apart at the seams and calling out Bucky’s name as the fingers fuck you through it. You soak them and the sheets beneath you and the vibrations don't stop. The fog is still in your mind when you turn your head and see Bucky naked in the doorway, his cock thick and heavy in his hand and a smirk on his handsome face.

“Ready for round two?”

Clenching around the metal inside you and letting out a sultry moan is the only answer he needs.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business. ❤️ And I hope my power comes back on soon. Love and thanks! ❤️

[awrkive]

summary: where you and jungkook are in a situationship and you kind of hate each other but the sex is great

wc: 2.8k

warnings/misc: idol!jk x producer!(fem)reader, they are mean to each other 😬, just.. weird dynamics tbh. explicit sexual content: unprotected s*x, multiple positions, cre*mpie, brief c*nnilingus

note: this is entitled "something" in my docs. i genuinely dk what this is but i read this and i was like. oh! okay! i think i had a vision so i want to share!! ik im not the #1 fan of mean jk or idol aus for that matter but the oc is equally just as mean so i kind of fw this tbh aishdixh. not proofread. sorry!

The surface of the leather couch is cold against your back when Jungkook pushes you to it – quite roughly, as if he has something to prove. 

And it definitely feels like it when he shoves your panties to the side once he’s situated on top of you – two of his fingers inserting themselves in your pussy without any warning. 

“Fuck, what’s gotten you so wet?” Jungkook hisses on the side of your head, pushing his slender fingers in your heat until he’s knuckles deep, buried to the hilt.

“I– oh fuuck,” your words get cut off with a moan when Jungkook starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, fast and erratic. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook says, a little mocking, squeezing your waist with his free hand, noting the way your heavy breathing fills the space of your studio. It’s dimly lit, just like you like it, and Jungkook knows there could be someone anytime that could walk by – the staff, his juniors, seniors, whoever – but it’s not your first time fooling around in your studio and it sure as hell isn’t going to be the last. 

“J-jeon—” 

“I’m just Jeon now?” Jungkook picks up his pace in your pussy, sliding his fingers in and out until you’re a panting mess under him, moans influencing his blood to travel to his dick that’s considerably getting bigger every second that passes by. “Come on, not even Jungkook? Kook? And there you were a while ago back at practice studio calling Mingyu oppa when he’s fucking barely older than you.” 

“Oh my god, shit— J-jung– it’s–” 

Jungkook doesn’t know exactly what comes over him, but he begins fingering you so fast he felt your wrist wrap around his own, and he could see a hint of tear drop from the side of your eye before Jungkook notices the way your thighs shake, a telltale sign of your orgasm. 

And he’s usually a giver. Always is, to be frank. Especially when it comes to you. Because as much as you infuriate him, you also look really fucking pretty when you cum – but this time, Jungkook feels a little petty. 

So when you say you’re about to cum just like Jungkook predicted, he abruptly slides his fingers out of your pussy, leaving you empty. 

“What the fuck—” he doesn’t let you finish, just uses his strength to flip you over the couch with his hands on your waist, and in swift motion gets you in all fours. 

“You don’t deserve to come before I put my dick in you.” 

Jungkook kneels behind you, takes his engorged cock out of his sweats, and enters your sweet, wet hole suddenly in an almost abrupt motion, hearing the way your breath hitch when the first inch comes into contact. 

“Oh god…” you moan at the delicious stretch, burying your face deeper in the couch as Jungkook begins entering you slowly.

It certainly isn’t the first time you’ve fucked without much prep. Jungkook always insists on an orgasm first before he pushes his cock deep into you while you say otherwise – but perhaps he’s most especially pissed at you tonight that he’s even breaking his own rules. 

You don’t really care, though. The burn feels delicious. It’s slow and it’s steady and you can just feel Jungkook holding out from slamming into you right away, his dick getting even bigger in you, every ridge crossing your inner walls.

His deep grunts and heavy breathing paired with your whimpers and moans bounce off the walls, and you’re beginning to think it’s one of the benefits of getting a studio soundproofed so you can fuck someone in peace in it. 

“S-so fucking tight—” Jungkook groans, sliding out slowly. The loss doesn’t last long when he enters you again, grabbing your hips tighter as he goes. “Is me fucking you almost everyday not enough, huh?” 

“You don’t fuck me everyday– ah,”

A hard thrust, one that feels a little punishing. It makes your legs shake, almost making you give out on your position. 

“Whose fault is that?” Jungkook hisses. Then, he speeds up again, and soon the sounds of skin slapping against skin filtrates the room. Jungkook jackhammers into you, and this time you’re more than sure he’s trying to prove something. 

“I’m not the– the– busier one–oh— between us.” You reaching out for something behind you – nothing in particular, but Jungkook takes your hand anyway, placing it on the small of your back and keeping it there is he slams into you again, repeating the motion over and over again until you’re near tears. 

It’s so good, and you’re so wet and you want to cum so bad.

You’re just about to whine for it when Jungkook suddenly changes your position again, splaying his hand around your stomach until all you know is that he’s manhandling you over the couch and he’s seated on the leather while you end up on his lap. 

Jungkook slides your top upwards until they’re halfway on your chest, expertly creeping up your back to unhook your bra, the flimsy garment falling down your lap. He doesn’t waste more time and maneuvers you a little to suck on your nipples, hands coming to your waist to start bounching you on his cock. 

You whimper at the simulation, hands grabbing his hair at the shock. There’s a mirror across from you that lets you see everything that’s happening, and you can’t help but let out a loud moan when you see the way his engorged head disappears in your pussy every time he pushes you down his lap, with his messy hair buried deep on your chest. 

You look a mess, with your skirt on the floor and portions of your ponytail breaking away from your elastic tie. But you help Jungkook anyway, holding onto his arm as you bounce up and down on him, pushing your shirt way up your chest until your breasts are free from the constraint of the fabric.

“You’re always so pliant when you’re on my cock like this,” Jungkook says as he bites your nipple. And it felt petty, together with his words. 

“Shut up. M-make me cum.” You hiss, grabbing his hair a little tight to make him look up at you. 

He does, but there's a smug smirk on his face. “You think you deserve it?” 

You arch a brow, despite feeling the tight coil in your stomach. “When do I not?” 

“Wrong answer.” Jungkook tsks, shaking his head. Your eyebrows meet, but you find it incredibly hot when he does that thing with his tongue in his cheek. “Wrong answers mean I get to come before you. So sit back and be a good girl for me, hm?” 

“Fuck off—” You’re interrupted by Jungkook giving a forceful thrust from down under, so powerful that it almsot knocks you off his lap. 

“Look at you, such a fucking slut. A gorgeous slut,” Jungkook says, cupping the side of your head and directing you to look in the mirror you were looking at just a second ago. Your breathing is heavy, and your boobs bounce the same time you go up and down on Jungkook’s cock at a quick, abnormal pace you’re literally running out of breath. “Pussy so fucking tight and tiny but you can always take my dick, huh? No matter how big it gets for you? Right, princess?” 

You whimper. “Don’t call me that.” 

Jungkook only smirks. “Oh, but you are a princess. Always whines when you don’t get what you want.” 

“I d-don’t– fuuckkk – I don’t whine.” you hiss directly to his face, glaring at him. 

He chuckles, dark and deep. His fingers begin to creep over your pussy, and soon he’s rubbing fast circles over it, and you want to bite back with an answer to get the last word – but the words die on your tongue when Jungkook changes the position again, roughly placing you on the couch, turning you to your side.

Jungkook grabs your leg and hook it on his shoulder, finds leverage on one of your ass cheeks and enters you from that position, jackhammering thrusts making you almost scream. 

It felt so deep, so close, and the stretch is almost godly. Delicious. The way Jungkook’s dick fills you up so good makes the tears form in your eyes, and you keep your eye on him as he pumps in and out of you, sweat already forming on his brows, abs clenching, veins popping out of his arms.

“S-shit–” Jungkook hisses, breathing heavily, a telltale sign of his impending orgasm. “I’m gonna cum. Shit, can I– can I cum inside?” 

You nod your head vehemently, grabbing your own chest at the sight of him to give yourself some form of relief. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans before he slams into you in and out, repeating the motion over and over again until his thighs shake. Pauses. Then, he takes his cock out slowly from you, and you look down to see the way Jungkook’s abdomen clench when he starts pumping his cock to shoot his seed into your hole. 

It’s warm on your pussy, a little cold when it begins trickling down. 

“J-jungkook, I want to—” 

“Shh, princess. You’ll come. Just wait a little.” he squeezes his cock for more, spurts of cum shooting into and onto you, and you feel like you could cry at this point. 

“Jungkook—” 

“Easy.”

He puts your leg down and you thought he was going to enter you again but he adjusts you on the couch, kneels down on the floor, and pokes his tongue out to taste you. 

“Oh god!” you gasp when Jungkook suddenly dives in, hungry and impatient, tongue eager to get everywhere all at once.

It happened so fast you don’t exactly know when you released. But when you do, you’re lax on the couch afterwards with Jungkook sitting beside you, massaging your breasts. 

“Kook… that’s enough.” you say, holding his wrist. 

Jungkook arches a brow. But he lets go. 

The post-coital momentum hits you the same. 

It’s always like this when you’re doing fucking. You pick up your clothes, and Jungkook starts dressing himself properly too. 

You comb your hair through your fingers, putting it back into a decent ponytail in the mirror. You see the reflection of Jungkook behind you seating himself on the couch. 

“You’re working tonight?” He takes out something in his pocket, a familiar small, pink electronic device. 

Your expression sours immediately. “Keep that shit away from my studio, Jeon.” Jungkook halts, arching his brow your way. You roll your eyes. “If you’re gonna smoke, do it with a real cigarette. Don’t be a pussy.” 

Jungkook snorts a scoff, but he tucks away the vape in his pocket back again, anyway. 

“You’re getting real creative with being hateful about my smoking. Careful, princess. I’m starting to think you wanna be my girlfriend.” 

You walk towards your swivel chair in front of the keyboard. On the screen is a song you’ve been working on for the past month, unfinished, with way too many versions of the melody. You can’t seem to figure out what fits best. 

You look back at Jungkook with a disgusted face. “You keep on mentioning that word. I think you want me to be your girlfriend.” 

He laughs, relaxed against the sofa, watching you from across the room. 

“I would’ve already asked you way before if I wanted that.” 

You pause. 

Huh. 

What a fucking asshole. 

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But you’re the one getting all worked up just ‘cause I called your bestfriend oppa when he's barely fucking older than me.” You quote him as a retort, throwing his words back at him, going back to your computer. 

“Did it flatter you?” 

You tried some notes on the keyboard, and again, it doesn’t feel right. Something's missing. Something's too much.

“No. Why would it? You’re a good fuck, I’ll give you that. But you’re not more than that to me.”

A few keys again. It felt way too… bright. The lyrics don't fit. Yoongi would know what to do with this track. But you can’t come to him again, especially after what happened a week ago. A drunk confession and a sober rejection, with the confession coming from you and the rejecting coming from Yoongi.

Now you have to act as if that didn't faze you. Hell is going to freeze over way before you show everyone you give a fuck about anything.

You don’t even notice that Jungkook hadn’t said anything to the last thing you said because it was just that quick for you to get holed in at work. 

Until you hear footsteps coming your way. 

“What are you working on?” Jungkook asks, gesturing to the whole equipment before you. 

“Songs.” you say, not really interested in getting into more conversation with him tonight. 

The sex was good, and you won't tell Jungkook this – it's unspoken anyway – but sex with him has always lessened your stress. Made you feel free, even just for a moment. Jungkook likes sex, and he makes sure to prove it to you everytime you do it.

“Wasn’t really obvious.” Jungkook sarcastically says.

You sigh at that, eyes focused on your screen. Clicking away at the software, trying out some keys again. The sound of the keyboard almost rings to your ears at this point.

“Jungkook, I’m working.” 

“I know. What? I can’t watch you? Yoongi always tells me it’s better if I watch how you guys work so I can learn a thing or two.” He shrugs, sitting in the available chair next to you. 

The mention of Yoongi makes you jump a little, something you hope Jungkook doesn't notice. When he doesn't say anything, you arch your brow at him.

“Why? Thinking of producing your own shit from now on?” 

You didn't really think that through. Just wanted to... say something. Retort. But you see that flicker of something unknown flash his face, and you know to yourself instantly that was a… low blow.

Jungkook had always felt… you don’t know, really. He’s just close off when it comes to his… own works. He almost doesn’t really mention them to you, even though that could be something you can talk about when you’re not trying to get in each other's pants.

“None of your business.” Jungkok says after awhile. 

You bite your lip. “Okay.” 

The room feels quiet until Jungkook breaks it.

“He’s planning to ask you out, by the way.” 

Without looking away from your computer, you ask, “Who?” 

“Mingyu.” 

“Oh.” 

“What are you going to say?” 

Your brows furrow. “Not sure. You’re his friend right? Is he a nice guy?” 

“You like nice guys now?” 

“Who doesn't?” you roll your eyes. “Maybe I’ll say yes.” 

Jungkook suddenly stands up, the chair scraping against the floorboards.

“Okay, well. Just tell me when you two start fucking, just so I know my health isn’t at risk here.” 

You look up at him incredulously.

“You know you’re such a fucking asshole sometimes, right?” He doesn’t say anything. You scoff. “As if you haven’t fucked anybody else since we started doing this.” 

“Who the hell else have I fucked, quickly?” Jungkoon furrows his brows. 

Shit. You’re confused now. The software is dancing in your eyes. Maybe it was wrong to get right into it after having sex; your brain's mush. And Jungkook's picking up a fight with you as fucking usual. You genuinely don't want to get into it right now.

“I don’t fucking know, Jeon. A random idol at some music show backstage? Maybe one of your fans? I really don’t care. As long as you tell me. ‘Cause I’m as concerned about my health as you are yours.” You say the words with a particular bite to it, making sure to look at him when you use your words against him.

“I haven’t been in any pussy other than your own uptight one since I fucked it, so good luck on that beef you have with an imaginary woman.” Jungkook spits out before he takes his keys out. “I’ll have dinner delivered to you ‘cause I know you haven’t eaten shit. Until then, I’m heading off. Just text me if you’re staying over at my place or not. I don't care. You have a keycard.” 

One you never used. Jungkook's aware of that.

You avoid looking at him. “I'm not.” 

“... Okay.” 

He leaves just like that.

You slump in your seat and shut your eyes close.

[luveline]

Okay what about a role reversal, shy!reader tries to flirt back or even unintentionally does something that ends up flustering Spencer 🫣 love ya Jade

this fic implies that spencer is a bit taller than reader but you can pretend he’s more agile if you don’t want that <3

You're guilty only of teasing your boyfriend. You’re allowed —he’s your boyfriend, he chose you, asked you out without a wince nor flinch— but it really is getting mean. 

You’re sick of being the shy one, that’s all. It’s not purposefully cruel. You’re rewarded some nights with a clingy, warm, and overly tempting boy, one who cares about what you want and how it feels, if you’d just tell him, angel. You refuse to be caught, so you’ve waited a while between goes, and tonight’s the perfect time. He’ll forget how flushed you’d become trying to order him a drink, because you know exactly how he likes his coffee, but you’d been distracted by his hand playing with the back of your blouse and the smug look he’d given you when you’d offered to do it, as if you were some treasure for it. It was worse when you stammered and he said, “It’s alright,” quietly, stepping in to finish it, and kissing your cheek to give a simple thank you. 

You didn't deserve the thanks. You didn’t get his coffee. He hadn’t even let you pay. 

Coffee gone and dinner in the oven, Spencer lays on the couch, curled on one side with his e-reader held against a naked forearm. You haven’t spoken to one another in an hour beyond quiet Okays and Yeahs and move over, and you love it. You don’t need to speak. 

You won’t need to for this, either, but you’re in a rush. You want the reward. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, sure you’re in his eyeline in the kitchen, doors open, in a t-shirt too short for you when you feign reaching for the hot chocolate at the back of his cabinet. 

“You okay?” Spencer asks. 

You can feel his eyes on you. “Yeah! Just–” You huff, the beginning to get genuinely irked when you realise you actually can’t get it. “Can’t get this tub of hot chocolate.”

“Your first mistake was trying to make your own when you have a built-in drinks maker right here,” he says, almost not quite normal in his cadence. 

You make a leap for it and your shirt rises up your back. You don’t get what’s so special about your back, it looks the same as anybody’s (or, you think so, it’s not like you spend much time looking at it). Maybe it’s the arch as you lean, or the slip of skin nobody else usually sees. Boys aren’t usually very mysterious about why they might like to see your skin, but Spencer’s Spencer. One day he could tell you that the reason he likes it is because you have a stretch mark and two moles that make a smiley face and you’d believe him. 

“I actually can’t get it,” you laugh, falling back down onto your heels with a childish, loving pout. “Can you grab it, please?” 

He’s already in the kitchen moving you aside. “I’ll get it, I got it,” he says, his fingertips kissing your back as he does, no need for it and a private pleasure all your own to know that. “Why is it wedged?” He goes on tiptoes, and yanks it out, nearly blinding himself with a can of spaghetti quickly righted. “Done. Easy.”

“So easy,” you tease lightly. 

Spencer, already knocked off kilter, goes quiet and shy, pressing his cheek to the side of your face and staying there for a second, the hot chocolate still in his hand, his other flirting with the small of your back. “I know what you’re doing, you know,” he murmurs. 

You go hot all over, but don’t give in. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur back sweetly, stroking a hand up his back, tickling him as he often tortures you. 

“Yeah, you do.” 

“No,” you say, speaking into his jaw, “I don’t.” You let your breath warm his skin, nose dragged to his ear. You press a whisper of a kiss to that sharp notch of his jaw. When his grip on you tightens, you let him hear your contented sigh. 

“Can your drink wait, do you think?” he asks quietly. 

Impolite. You’d tell him you want the IOU in writing, but his hand is creeping up the front of your shirt to caress your stomach, and suddenly the hot chocolate feels unimportant. 

[covenofagatha]

Four times Agatha fails at cockwarming (and one time she doesn't)

The Third Attempt

Based on the third part of this brainworm

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: g!p Agatha, cockwarming, breeding kink, spanking, jealousy, bratty!reader, light degradation, mommy kink

When Agatha comes downstairs in the morning the next weekend, wearing a purple crewneck and gray sweatpants with loose hair, you’re already awake and doing yoga in the living room in nothing but a bra and underwear. 

She takes one look at you and snorts, already in tune with the game you’re trying to play. “What happened to wearing clothes while working out?” 

You shoot her an impish wink from a tree pose. “Didn’t you hear, mommy? Clothes are so restrictive, especially for yoga. You want to have a full range of motion so you can bend any way you want.” Your voice drops suggestively low and she squints and nods like you’re making perfect sense. 

“Of course, why didn’t I think of that?” 

Shrugging, you put your foot down and shake out your aching limbs. You haven’t done yoga in months, but you just felt in the mood for something different. Absolutely no ulterior motives whatsoever. “I would’ve done it completely naked, but that would’ve been indecent.” 

Agatha actually laughs. “You—indecent? Never, honey.” You blow her a kiss as you assume warrior pose and she walks into the kitchen and you hear her pouring herself a cup of coffee. 

She walks back in and takes a seat on the couch, slurping from her mug and watching you with scrutinizing eyes. 

“Want to join?” you ask, a little out of breath when you finally sit down and bend your knees, pushing the soles of your feet together in the butterfly pose. Coincidentally, also giving her a perfect view of the already-wet gusset of your underwear. Even the mere sight of her is enough to get you turned on.

Agatha shifts on the couch before shaking her head. “I’m good to just watch.” 

You smirk and lay on your back, legs bent in the air, and you grip your ankles in the happy baby pose. She chokes on her coffee. “Babe, can you help me for a second? I think I need to get into more of a stretch.” 

“It looks good to me,” she says, voice taut, and you have to bite on your lip to stop from laughing before fixing your face into a pleading look. 

“Please? I can barely feel anything. And if I can’t feel it, that means I’m not going to make any progress,” you pout. She raises an eyebrow. You both know you’re not trying to progress to anything in yoga and you’re just trying to tease her. 

Because even after Agatha fucking you every single day this past week, you’re still insatiable and your need to be a brat will always prevail. 

So she sighs and slinks off the couch, crawling over to you on her knees and putting her hands on the underside of your thighs, keeping her body a safe difference from yours. “Is this okay?” she murmurs and gently pushes your legs up more. You notice the pointed effort she’s making to not look down at your covered cunt that is positioned right toward her face. 

“I think I need to have a deeper stretch,” you say and yank her closer by the collar of her crewneck. Her hands let go of your legs in surprise and catch herself on the floor, her face above yours and her bulge now positioned right against your pussy. She sucks in air quickly and moves to pull away, but you lock your legs around her back, crossing your ankles. “There we go.” 

“I somehow doubt this is proper form,” she rasps, her gaze darting from your eyes to your lips and then back up. 

You raise your hips gently and smirk. “What do you mean? Doesn’t it feel good, mommy? This is what yoga’s all about.” 

Her jaw clenches and her cock twitches against you. “Oh, yeah? Yoga’s all about being a needy slut?” You gasp, heat tearing through you, and you grind up again before nodding with a grin. 

“Exactly.” You peck her lips with yours. “Now it’s time for child’s pose.” You push her off you and she clears her throat before giving her cock a quick stroke through her sweats. You turn over onto your hands and knees, giving her a perfect view of your ass. She sharply inhales and you smirk to yourself before sitting back on your heels and extending your arms out. 

It does actually feel really good and you can’t help but wonder how it would feel for Agatha to fuck you like this. You might not have to wait long to find out, judging by how easily affected she is. 

“Agatha, can you?” you prompt and she tentatively reaches out to cup your asscheeks with both hands and rock you forward. Her labored breathing echoes through the room. “Not like that. Like, lay on me. It’s the only way you’re really going to be able to help.”

She grumbles something unintelligible, probably about how full of it you are, before you hear her scooch forward and then her weight drapes on top of you. Her loose hair spills down and tickles your cheek and her cock is pushed into the cleft of your ass. You sway your hips from side to side, enjoying the whimper in your ear.  

Then you clench your cunt around nothing and she moans—heat spreads through you and pools in your underwear because you didn’t think she’d actually be able to feel it. 

“Mommy,” you admonish, just because you want to push her further, “I’m just trying to get a good workout in and you’re trying to distract me by pressing your hard cock against me like that. Now who’s the indecent one?”

You can practically hear her roll her eyes before she growls, “How many times do I have to fuck you speechless before you learn to stop being bratty?” 

Chuckling, you rise back to your hands and knees, moving Agatha with you as well, and you feel her cock throb. “Time for cat-cows.” 

Before she can ask what that is, you arch your back and look up to the ceiling, pause for a quick breath, and then round your back out, tuck your chin inwards, and look towards your belly button. You repeat the motion over and over, essentially twerking your cunt against her throbbing cock until she grabs onto your hips with a steel-like grip. 

“I think you’ve got it from here,” she gasps, pats your ass, and then stands back up. You turn over so you’re sitting on the mat and you watch her limp back over to the couch before starting to look for something. 

Your brows furrow as she digs through the pillows before she whirls around to you. Her cock is prominent through her gray pants and you can actually see the outlines of the veins because of how hard she’s straining. Your mouth waters—you want her cock in your mouth right now.

“Have you seen my phone?” Agatha asks, breaking you out of your horny stupor. You shake your head. You’re not even sure you saw her bring it downstairs. “Can you call it?” 

Grabbing your phone off the coffee table, you hold down the side button and make eye contact with her, a wicked grin on your face. “Call mommy,” you say. 

She scoffs. “Yeah, right, that’s not my contact. You have a job, what if I called—” 

“Calling mommy,” Siri says and then there’s a ringing noise from the kitchen. You wink smugly at her stunned face. Obviously you have to be very careful when checking your phone at work and you’ve definitely come close to an embarrassing moment a few times, but this was so worth it. 

Agatha swallows before going to get her phone and when she comes back, she’s scrolling on it with a frown. 

“Everything okay?” you ask, still on your spot on the ground. 

She purses her lips and looks up to you. “You know that annual teacher thing we do?” You nod. Each year, the school Agatha works at does a gala for all the staff—super fancy, great food, even an auction. You’ve gone to the last three of them with her and you always have a fun time for the most part. “I completely forgot it’s tomorrow afternoon. You don’t have to come if you’re busy or working or doing more yoga.” 

You laugh sarcastically before standing up and wrapping your arms around your middle and pushing your tits up and together so she gulps. “Will Rio be there?” you ask cautiously and she gives you a stern look. 

Rio Vidal is the Biology teacher and you are absolutely convinced she has a crush on your wife. Every gala you’ve been to, Rio has found a way to steal Agatha away from you for at least half an hour and you see the way Rio looks at her. 

“Yes, Rio will be there,” Agatha sighs. “And for the last time—” 

“What about Wanda?” you interrupt and Agatha’s gaze narrows. Two can play this game and you know exactly the right buttons to push. “You know, the English teacher, the one with the red hair and the green eyes who always wears the most beautiful outfits?” 

She nods curtly. “Why do you care if she’ll be there?” 

You shrug with a simper and slowly start to sashay over to where she’s standing before perching on the edge of the couch. She arches her brow and you can see the heat in her eyes. “She’s really nice and always keeps me company when you run off with Rio, leaving me all lonely.” 

Agatha’s nose flares and the vein in her head twitches. “You need to be careful,” she seethes. 

“Or what, mommy? Going to punish me?” You pout mockingly, knowing you have her right where you want her. “Remember what happened the last two times you tried to cockwarm me? I bet if Wanda had a cock, she wouldn’t blow her load before she even got inside me.” 

Her growl is animalistic and you think you may have crossed a line before she grabs onto your wrists, pulls you up, and then spins you around and bends you over the side of the couch. “You are such a brat,” she says and roughly spanks you, making you moan loudly. 

“Fuck, mommy.” 

She slaps your ass again and your hips jerk forward against the couch, your clit pulsing. “Tell me who you belong to,” she demands and you shake your head. You want her to make you say it. 

Agatha chuckles dangerously before tracing two fingers up your clothed slit and pushing the soaked fabric into you. You groan and arch your back for just a bit more stimulation. 

But then she spanks you again and you jump. “First, you rub yourself all over me while you’re doing yoga like a slut. And then you try to make me jealous? God, you’re really just asking for it, aren’t you, honey?” 

You look over your shoulder at her and bite your lip with big, doe eyes: the picture of innocence. “Asking for what?” 

She scoffs and runs her tongue against her bottom lip before spanking both asscheeks simultaneously. “Who do you belong to?” Your head drops down with a groan. 

“Please, mommy, I need you,” you whine. Another spank. Your cunt is throbbing right now, absolutely aching for her cock. “I need you to fuck me so bad right now.” 

Agatha soothes your raw skin. “I know, honey. I’ll give you what you want if you just tell me. Or else, I’ll just have to get creative.” 

The promise makes you perk up. Your wife loves to get creative—and it can either be heaven or hell for you. The time she made you ride her while holding a vibrator to your clit until you squirted all over her was one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had. Making you wear a vibrator and edging you over ten times in public and then not letting you cum until the next day was tortuous. 

“Creative, how?” you ask and she spanks you even rougher than the ones before, making you yelp. Heat has flushed through you and your breathing is heavy—you know you won’t last long no matter what she does. 

She hums, rubbing your ass while thinking about it. “Maybe I’ll just tie you to the bed and not touch you for the rest of the day.”

“Why don’t you show me that you can cockwarm me?” you suggest, voice thick with desire. You would do anything to get her inside your empty pussy right now. She spanks you one last time before grabbing you by the scruff of your neck and pulling you up. 

“Tell me who you belong to and I will,” she says lowly and you don’t have it in you to resist anymore. 

“I’m yours, mommy, I’m all yours—please, I need you so bad,” you pant and she nods in satisfaction before ordering you to get upstairs. Your panties cling to you with every step that you take and her footsteps echo behind you all the way to your bedroom. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, chewing on your bottom lip, while Agatha strips off her crewneck, sweatpants, and boxers. Her cock is, no surprise, pointing right at you, hard, red, and leaking precum onto the floor. She gives herself a quick stroke and then freezes—you think she might lose it right then and there, but she doesn’t. You let out a breath of relief. It would’ve been slightly disappointing to have her not even get inside you again. 

There’s something about the pressure of cockwarming that really gets to her. Every other time she has no problem fucking you. 

Or maybe it’s because of the incessant teasing you give her that has consistently been proceeding it. 

“Mommy,” you whine and she snorts before stalking over to you. Agatha stands over you and cups your cheek gently before roughly shoving two fingers into your mouth. You gag around them and she begins to fuck your mouth, her cock twitching and weeping onto your legs. 

She pulls out and smears your saliva all over your face before climbing onto the bed and sitting next to you. She nods and you straddle her, your covered cunt finally against her bare cock and you moan at the heat radiating from it. 

Agatha’s arms wrap around your back to unclasp your bra and then she slides it down your arms and throws it somewhere in the room. She reaches down to move your underwear to the side and slides her fingers through your wet folds and she tosses her head back when your wetness drips onto her cock. 

She rubs your clit but you’re done waiting—you push her down so her back is on the bed and then position your entrance at the tip of her cock before sheathing her inside you in one motion. You say a silent prayer that she doesn’t cum. 

You both groan and your eyes close, her cock filling you deliciously. Agatha bucks beneath you, but she doesn’t lose control. 

“I’m impressed,” you tease and she thrusts sharply into you before she realizes that it only makes it harder for her too. The stretch is satiating the ache, but you need so much more, so you begin to rock back and forth slowly. 

Agatha’s hands shoot out and grab your waist, stilling you. “This is your punishment,” she grits out. “Don’t move.” You pout but obey, the hunger in your cunt coming back with a vengeance. She’s so deep inside you, the tip of her cock resting against your g-spot, and tears prick your eyes with how it feels. 

So it’s really not your fault when you can’t help but start to rut occasionally and she whimpers, nails digging into your skin. Her face has turned red, her mouth is open and panting, her eyes are dark and pleading. 

“Mommy,” you say slowly and she whimpers. As hard as this is for you, it looks like it’s even worse for her. “Please? Can you please fuck me?” 

She shakes her head with a muffled, pained grunt. “Not until you learn your lesson.” 

If the lesson is that your wife is less composed than a horny teenager when it comes to you and your cunt, you think it’s safe to say that you’ve learned it. She’s going crazy right now—and all you have to do is turn the tables a little. 

“I’m yours, mommy,” you say breathlessly and start to grind. Her eyes go wide and you coax your own nipples to hardness with your fingers. She instinctively thrusts up into you and you moan loudly. Her hair is sprawled out beneath her and she looks like she might cry. “These tits? All yours.” You slide a hand up to trace your lips and then suck on two fingers like she made you do earlier. “This mouth? All yours.” 

The muscles in her neck are taut and she’s making even more sounds, especially when you clench around her cock to accentuate your words. 

You reach between your bodies and rub your clit. “This cunt? All yours.” You make sure to press your wet fingers against her cock as you roll your hips and she bucks again. 

“Honey, honey, please,” Agatha begs, a slight sheen of sweat breaking out on her chest, “you need to stop. Stop moving. Please, I can’t—” 

You brush your hand against her nipple and she cuts herself off with a loud groan. “Come on, mommy. It’s okay. You can just give in and fuck me.” 

She shakes her head and screws her eyes shut tightly when you lift yourself up and then drop down on her cock. “Honey,” she pleads quietly and she throbs inside you. 

Leaning down, you start to pepper kisses along her collarbone and chest. “I know you need to fill me up, right? You need to breed me?” 

Agatha whimpers like she’s been wounded and her cock twitches violently. You slowly inch up, feeling her veins drag against every ridge inside you and then you drop down fast and she keens, her back arching off the bed. You’re still very impressed that she hasn’t cum yet and you’re getting close as well. 

“Baby, please,” she whispers, hands grappling at your waist to try and hold you still again, but it’s weak and you keep steadily riding her, “this isn’t even cockwarming.” 

You muse on that and then stop, opting to just clench around her and she groans. Both of you know that you don’t need to be moving to make her cum. You swirl your tongue around her nipple and tug on it with your teeth and she squirms and breathes louder. “I need you to fill me up, mommy,” you whine and she sobs before bucking up just once. “I need you to breed me. Need you to breed my hot, wet cunt that’s all yours. It was made for you, mommy—I was made for you.” 

“Oh, fuck—honey, fuck,” she babbles and her cock swells. A thrill runs through you and you clench involuntarily. “Gonna breed you, mommy’s gonna fill you up, you’re gonna be so full of me.”

Tension builds in your lower back and you decide to give her what she needs. “Cum for me, mommy,” you say hoarsely, rocking your hips and scraping your teeth against her breast and her cock throbs before she lets out a long, guttural cry of relief and you feel her hot seed paint your walls white. 

She flips you onto your back so she’s on top and starts thrusting wildly into you through her orgasm, finding your clit and rubbing it while she sucks on your nipple, and you can feel her cum being pumped into you and then leaking out. 

“Fuck, mommy,” you whine and she’s getting softer but she doesn’t stop until you cum too, adding to the mix of fluids seeping out of your cunt and onto the bed. 

Agatha collapses on top of you, pressing kisses to your sweaty forehead and then she finds your mouth and she tugs on your bottom lip. Your limbs are entangled and both of you are sticky now, but you lay like that for a few minutes, just soaking each other in until she finally sits up and pulls out of you. There’s a gush of cum from your pussy and you weakly hump up against nothing when you watch Agatha’s cock twitch. 

“Little Aggie did such a great job making it that long,” you mumble, still slightly delirious from your intense orgasm. 

Your wife chokes and looks down, flabbergasted. “What did you just call my cock?” 

You giggle. “You don’t like it? I think it’s cute.”  

“Little Aggie? She’s not even little,” Agatha scoffs. “And I’d like to point out that if you had actually cockwarmed me correctly instead of moving around and talking, I would’ve lasted even longer.” 

“Pfft,” you wave dismissively. “Please, you never stood a chance, you can’t blame that on me. Not my fault you’re too desperate for me.” 

She leans in to kiss you, long and slow. “It’s all your fault.” 

“You know what?” you ask, breaking away and resting your forehead against hers. “I think I’ll take full responsibility for that. And don’t worry about failing again. There’s always next time.” 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @loneliestafterparty

[meinii]

“don’t look away”

summary: Sylus always gives you what you want♡

content: SMUT (18+), some fluff, use of nicknames (my love, kitten), praising

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

for Sylus, taking care of you came as naturally as breathing.

he loved spoiling you—picking out the prettiest clothes, cooking you mouthwatering meals, and effortlessly winning every plushie you set your eyes on at the claw machine.

this also goes for when you’re sharing intimate moments

“does it feel good, my love?” his breathing unsteady, his cock buried into you

“Sy… feels so good, you’re so big” you moan out

he buries his face into your neck and starts leaving kisses on it, his grip on you tightens just a bit more as he holds you tightly against him

“you’re so sensitive today, my love” he whispers against your skin “do you want more, hmm?”

his hand starts to travel down to your waist and squeezes gently the flesh there, his breath feels warm on your skin as he leaves even more small kisses there, a soft bite that leaves a small mark on it making you whine

“yes– harder”

Sylus lets out a low and almost feral moan, his grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you closer to him, his body almost completely against yours

“anything for you, kitten” he whispers,

the more he touched you, the stronger the desire for you.

he wanted you with an intensity that was almost unbearable, it was like he couldn’t get enough of you, his mouth and lips hungrily claiming yours.

he lifted your thighs, sliding them up and onto his shoulders as he leaned back a bit, his breathing erratic, the look on his face and the way his eyes darkened made you shiver as he looked in your eyes, there was nothing but lust and love in them.

he pulled you closer against him, his hands roaming your body before gripping you tightly by the hips, his eyes never leaving yours.

“don’t look away” he said softly, his voice deep “I want to see every single expression you make”

he fucked you harder, just like you asked, his body pressing deeply into you

a soft moan escaped your mouth “Sylus…”

and with that, a smirk appeared on his face, “that’s it-” he said, his breath getting a bit ragged, “do it again” he whispered, lifting you a bit, his hold on your hips still tight and his movements becoming a bit more erratic, “I want to hear you cry out my name” he said with a slight possessive tone in his voice, a possessive tone that you knew all too well, and a tone that just made you want him more

he started to move a bit faster, his hips rocking up and into yours

“you feel so good… so perfect for me” he whispered, his voice ragged. “I don’t ever want to let you go…” he spoke almost desperately, his grip on your hips tightened as his movements became a bit more desperate.

he moved one of his hands to your face, cupping your cheek, his eyes meeting yours “I love you” he said softly, his voice a bit ragged, “I love you so much…” his fingers dagged into your thighs, probably leaving bruises.

you felt intoxicated, pleasure washing over you with each push

“I’m close, Sylus”

you held onto his shoulders tighter as both your climaxes caught up to you, making a mess on the bed, but don’t worry about that, he’ll clean up later and hold you close until you fall asleep in his arms 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[cherry-leclerc]

reckless driver ☆ mv1

genre: photographer!reader, angst, moody!max, yearning, jos hate club

word count: 9.9k

Switching to be Max’s personal photographer wasn’t a planned note on your agenda. Neither was him opening up. A lot of things weren’t, therefore, making his growing crush on you catch him completely off guard. 

inspired by reckless driving, lizzy mcalpine !

cherry here!...would it be a regular cherry fic if it didn’t hurt ya just a little bit?

 All he knew was how to be perfect.

It has nothing to do with his looks, doesn’t even mean this in a condescending way. The perfect shade of watercolor eyes. The perfect mix of dirty blond hair. The perfect color of pink that taints his lips. The perfect curve of his nose. This had nothing to do with that. 

For fucks sakes, Max! Jos grits his teeth tightly, marching closer and closer. The accelerator is there for a reason! 

From a very early age, Max’s vocabulary grew an excessive amount, but again, it mainly had to do with how many curse words he could count based on angry verses his dad would often spit at him. By the time he was five, he knew them all, and he knew them by heart. Something inside of him became almost immune to all of that. The hurtful comments, the hatred behind his eyes, the annoyance of not being the best. There was nothing he couldn't handle. And if he remembers well enough, then he can still vividly hear the conversation between his parents. 

Just one more, Sophie. Maybe then, if we’re lucky, we’ll have another boy. One that actually has potential.

He swore to be the greatest in that very moment. No matter how much he wanted to give up, he never would. Not when he was constantly put down by his own father, or when the nerves ate him alive, making his skin crawl—no. He wouldn’t give into being a failure. Wouldn’t satisfy them ever.

So, he prayed. He prayed every single night for the new baby on the way to be anything but another boy. Let it be a girl, let it be an alien, let it be anything but a boy. Because even though he was just a kid, he knew that if there was another opportunity for Jos to train another son of his, he’d take it, and Max would be left as some unfinished project. 

And lo and behold—it was a girl.

He never really knew true happiness until that very moment. He cried a whole lot when he first held Victoria and everyone thought it was adorable, but no one knew just how much this meant to Max. He would continue to be his father’s main focus, and that’s all that mattered. He would craft himself to be the winner he knew he needed to be in order to get a solid smile from him, even just once. Either way, a few years later his parents wound up getting a divorce, so all was good.

Now, at this very moment—he had finally done it. 

Being a World Champion felt the way he knew it would: unreal.

Yes, the fireworks and the cheers were a part of that, but the warm hug from Jos was what really made it all worth it. All the snarky comments, all the panic attacks, all the isolation growing up—it was all worth it.

That’s a good boy! Jos yelled, rustling his sweaty hair before grinning widely. That’s how you do it! 

He wishes to remember this moment until the day he dies, and hopefully, if he's lucky enough, a bit after that. Whatever the case might be, he’s content, but now there’s something new.

Higher expectations.

You were born to be the greatest, Max. You were destined to outbeat those who are stupid enough to think they have a chance against you. They don't. No they fucking don’t because you, Max Verstappen, are one hell of a lion. Jos takes a sip of champagne, swallowing harshly and not at all quietly. And you wouldn’t want to fuck that up, now would you?

The answer is no. No way in hell would he let his father’s affection slip away. Not when he’s been dreaming of it for so long. He’s worked—and he’s worked hard—for this. There’s nothing, nor anyone, who would matter as much as Jos Verstappen and being the best driver there could ever be.

But then—just then.

You came along.

-

You should have said no. Looking back at it now, you really should have said no.

And yet. You couldn’t have possibly known that from the very beginning. 

Funny enough, you started off as Checo’s photographer. You loved it. He was easy to work with. Not only was he nice to you, but so was his family. The work environment was healthy and fun. Your dream job, really, there was nothing to complain about. 

But one by one, from a nearby corner—always a nearby corner—you watched as Max’s photographers rapidly lost their minds and quit. It’d start off with a scowl from him and end with a huff from them, dropping their expensive cameras and leaving without sparing a second glance. 

It isn’t until photographer number eight where things really do take an unexpected turn.

For you. 

“What do you say?” Christian’s voice booms with need. 

You blink hazily. “I-I’m not too sure. I mean, Checo and I work so well together…”

“No, I know what—and trust me, I feel bad for doing this—but we’re really counting on you. You get along with everyone. Everyone loves you! Who’s to say Max won’t?”

“And what if he doesn’t?” you fight back. “Then what? I quit too?”

“First of all, he will. And second of all, that won’t be necessary because he’ll love you.”

“You’re that confident?”

“I am.”

You sigh, rolling your tired neck before looking back at him. “Well, I’m not. I need to think this through.”

The Red Bull principal nods. “Of course! You need time, of course. But please—you’d be helping us all. Especially Max.”

You’d be a liar if you were to say that his words hadn’t stuck with you. What did he mean by ‘especially Max’? Was it to get the wheels spinning? If it was, then it was definitely working.

Adjusting your camera strap that hangs around your neck, you stare off into the distance as if you might find the answer somewhere in between the clouds. And maybe you did find it. The answer, you mean. You were one hundred percent certain now that you wanted to stay with Checo, you just didn’t know how to break the news to Christian who has done so much for you ever since you started working at Red Bull.

“I heard about the offer,” a deep voice rumbles next to you, making you jump with fear, clutching your camera towards your chest like some sort of secret weapon. The Dutchman remains unbothered, taking in the same sunset as you once were. “Christian tends to do that. Put people on the spot. I hate that about him.”

In a way, you’re sort of surprised by him even speaking to you or that he even knows about your existence. Over the past few years, you’ve only interacted with him a couple of times. Once, when he won his first championship. Twice, when he won his second. And thrice, when he won his, well…third. And they were all due to the awkward congratulatory hug you felt yourself forced to give since everyone around you was doing the same. 

Other than that, you had no reason to cross paths with him despite working for the same team. You two always stayed on opposite sides of the paddock, but it was never intentional, it was just the way things played out. Until now.

“You really shouldn’t say you hate the man who's making your dreams come true,” you whisper, struggling to find your own voice. 

Max hums. “All I said was that I hate that about him, not that I hate him as a person.” A beat. “And for your information, he isn’t the one making my dreams come true—I am.”

“He gave you a chance—”

“A chance he knew someone else would have taken if it weren’t him.” That shuts you right up, silence lingering. Seeing as you both were standing on the terrace overlooking the paddock, you two watched as Christian and Checo converse with one another, hands on their hips like some kind of businessmen. “I worked hard to get to where I am, so please, don’t give him all the credit when we both know that's not true.”

More silence. “Listen, I think I’m going to—”

“Turn him down and continue working with Checo?”

Your voice catches. “W-what?”

The Dutchman clicks his tongue, like he’s got you all figured out. Three conversations over the past three years and he thinks he has you all figured out? 

“I can’t say I blame you. You don’t think we’ll work well together, and quite frankly, I would agree. We wouldn’t. You’re too…nice.”

You have to laugh. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” 

“It’s supposed to be the truth,” he’s ricochets.

Turning towards his tall frame, you huff, hair washing over your face before faking a tight smile. “And you’re too…complicated.” Something about the way his gaze darkens at your words makes you want to back down like some shivering dog, but miraculously, you remain still. “And that’s not a compliment.”

“Didn’t sound like one.”

“Well because it’s not.”

He’s not too far from you, and honest to God, that made you shake more than you intended. There was something about him—there always was. Even though you never really worked close to him, you knew there was something there, hiding between the crease of his brows, and now, standing this close to him, you can see it all in a new perspective. 

Max releases a breath, bored and unexplainable. Runs a hand through his hair, turns his face for a second before connecting his gaze back to yours. “Look, you appear to be a sweet girl, but…I think you should turn down Christian’s offer.”

“Why?” He’s taken aback. You catch it the moment his lips twitch in the slightest. You tilt your head, urging him to answer. “You must have a reason, so what is it?”

“You’d hate working with me.”

“And you get to decide that?”

Max rolls his eyes. “Have you enjoyed this conversation so far?”

“No.”

“Then you probably wouldn’t enjoy our time either. And I’d just rather not waste my time on you finding out. No offense.”

“No, no, none taken,” you respond sarcastically. By now, Christian and Checo have spotted you both, secretly hoping there was some sort of friendship forming. They wave cheerfully and you mimic their movements. 

“I hope we get along—I really do,” you say with a smile as you wave enthusiastically over at Christian who lets out a whistle and sends you an excited thumbs up.

His jaw clenches.  

“If not, you’re really going to hate having me around.” 

-

By now, you’ve completely understood why every other person has quit on him. 

Your blood boils deep inside your veins for the millionth time in the past hour. His large hand covers his face as he continues speaking with his engineers. They all look back at you, half-amused, half-pitiful. They grimace when you try once again to get a picture of him, only to get shut down by him spinning around to make you face his back. 

“Unbelievable,” you mutter beneath your hot breath, glaring harshly to the point you feel a migraine growing, pounding the sides of your head. Marching off, you cross over to Checo’s side of the garage, watching as he discusses his strategies with a couple of his crew members. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he responds, flashing a bright smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Pleading for you to take me back?” He laughs, eyes crinkling, freckled nose scrunching with humor. “It feels like I’ve signed my life away.”

“Ah. Come on. It can’t be that bad. Give him some time.”

“It’s been a month!” you exclaim. “What more does he need?”

The Mexican driver’s eyes soften, feeling bad for the swap neither of you wanted, but knew was necessary. Checo knows how patient you can be, how sweet and caring you tend to act towards those you truly care about. And right now? He worries you won’t ever reach that point with Max. 

A heavy sigh. “Max isn’t much of a talker, you know that. But maybe—in order for him to get comfortable around you, he needs you to do something that the other photographers didn’t bother doing.”

Your stomach churns. “Like what?”

He smiles warmly. “Getting to know him.”

Maybe Checo was right. Maybe all Max needed was a friend—someone to talk to.

Sliding back to your side of the garage, you sheepishly walk over to the grumpy Dutchman. Currently, he’s sitting down on the floor, back pressed against the wall, scrolling through his phone. “C-c-can I talk to you?” you ask, nervous fingers lacing through the hoop of your jeans.

He doesn’t bother raising his gaze. “Can you even talk to begin with?”

“S-sorry?”

This time, he does look up, looking past his lashes. “Your stutter.” Lamely, your mouth opens, only for you to find it drier than the Sahara Desert. The crack of your voice is a clear indication over your weak attempt to speak and that just makes you a blushing mess. Fuck him. You took several speech therapy classes to try and get rid of it, but him pointing out a stutter you thought has gotten better over time makes you want to be photographer number nine. 

You glare—hard. You mentally go over your dialogue and that itself makes you feel small. Embarrassed. So, instead…you don’t say anything at all.

There’s a reason no one likes to work with him.

And you think you just found out.

-

Some days are easier than others. Some days are harder.

Today? 

Today was awful.

“Jesus Christ, Max! What the fuck was that?” Jos yells, nearly pressing his face against the Red Bull driver who stands close by, watching him flinch in the slightest before regaining composure. You’ve heard rumors—plenty of them. Between mechanics, between Checo and a few other bystanders, you heard them all. How Jos’ behavior was unbearable to deal with, especially when it came to him and Max. You just never thought you’d witness it firsthand. 

“My brakes weren’t working,” he replies, holding eye contact that would have left you in a coma. “It was never my intention to crash.”

“See, you say that, and yet everytime I come and visit, you always seem to be messing up one way or another,” Jos hisses, face beet red, and a splash of saliva spraying over Max as he grits his teeth, taking a step back. “I’m confused—do you want to lose the Championship this year or what?”

“No,” the Red Bull driver fires back, firm and quick. Blue eyes translate to a darker shade as they look to where his dad wears a mocking smile. “I’m winning that title, don’t worry.”

Running a hand against his stubble, Jos rolls his eyes before releasing a tired breath. As if he’s the one working endless hours. As if he’s the one who just crashed against the wall at a terrifying speed he couldn’t decrease even if he tried. As if he’s the one with the bruised temple. 

Everything was just always about him. 

“Don’t bother resting until you figure out how to fix all the shit you’ve caused.” Sharp eyes narrow. “Got it?”

“Got it,” Max whispers, watching as he storms off without even saying goodbye to anyone else that wasn’t Christian himself. So much for having him around. Frustrated, he angrily yanks his gloves off, throwing them against the wall and walking the opposite direction.

Something tells you to leave him alone—let him be. You get why he’s upset, but you checking up on him probably wouldn't help. Also, you're supposed to be mad at him, right?

And yet.

“Wait up!” you gasp, out of breath. 

Clenching his jaw, he stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at you with accusing eyes. “Why are you following me?”

“I just…” Coming to a stop as well, you wince at your sudden side stitch. “He shouldn’t have yelled at you that way,” you finish, analyzing the way his body stiffens. “Especially in front of everyone.”

Blue orbs flicker past your figure for a second, then he lets out a lopsided smile. “I bet you enjoyed it, though. You know? Because I’ve sort of been acting like a dick towards you…” The small smile disappears, replaced with a thin line.

“I didn’t,” you find yourself admitting. His brows raise up with surprise, and even you’re surprised to be telling the truth. You should feel good about this moment—someone finally told him off, someone finally put him in his place. But you felt none of that satisfaction. If anything, you felt bad. Swiping your tongue against your lips, you purse them awkwardly. “And you haven’t been a dick. He has.”

And for the first time—he laughs. 

You blink, bewildered at the sound, but he doesn’t seem to notice that. “Like father, like son, right?” he jokes, making you feel like this was all some sort of fever dream. He continues, squatting down against the wall until he sits down completely against the cold pavement. “Your perspective about me has suddenly changed, or what?”

Hesitant, you choose to sit across from him, tucking your legs beneath your butt. His eyes close, smiling softly. Though I doubt it, he mumbles. “I just think I had you all wrong, that’s all.”

“Yeah?” he encourages. “Why?”

You swallow. “Well…because—now it all makes sense. Why you’re so cold towards everyone, I mean. You do get it from your dad, but it’s also not your fault.”

“My dads not the problem,” he hums. “I am.” Your legs are slowly becoming numb, buzzing like a thousand ants are crawling on them, but you don’t dare move an inch, scared of ruining the moment of him being so honest despite being allergic to it. “I let him down constantly and he’s just being…candid.” His eyes open, focused like he’s known you’ve been here all along, sitting across from him. “The issue here is that no one seems to get that. And that’s fine, but I do.”

“C-c-can I…” you cringe at the sound of your stutter, biting harshly down against your sore tongue. You expect him to laugh—make fun of you in any way possible—hold it over your head…but he doesn’t. Instead, he waits patiently for you to feel comfortable enough to continue your question. Your chest loosens up, along with your anxiety. You never thought he’d help with that. “C-can I ask you a q-q-que—”

“A question?” he finishes your sentence, you feeling immensely grateful. You nod. “Sure,” he answers.

Repeating the question over a couple of times, you find yourself feeling more and more comfortable around him and it’s only been a couple of minutes. “Why do you belittle me?”

There’s no way of hiding his shame now as his head hangs low, dirty blond hair hugging the sides of his face with a thin layer of sweat, a purple bruise forming due to his crash of high impact. A tsk. “I want you to know that I don’t hate you. Regardless of what you might think.”

You nod, paying close attention. 

He shrugs. “But I just don’t think we’ll work well together.”

“That’s it?” you ponder, genuinely lost. “You haven’t-t-t even given me a chance to prove myself. Maybe we can?” A beat. “Or maybe you’re not telling the w-whole truth.”

A playful scoff erupts from this throat, ignoring your comment. “You’re right. I haven’t given this a fair shot.” A calm look paints his normally stoic features. “And it doesn’t seem like you’ll be quitting anytime soon.” Reaching out to swat his race boot, you smile, eyes crinkling. The Dutchman chuckles. “So maybe we should start getting along, no?”

“I agree,” you comment, straightening your shoulders and extending your legs, instantly feeling a wave of relief from the pressure. “I-I-I’d like t-that.” Pause. Your smile stretches. “I’d like that very much.”

What you know now is obviously something you didn’t know back then.

So realistically, you fell into a friendship that ended like most.

Complete, utter disaster.

-

As time went on, Max started to change for the better. His glares turned into soft smiles, his monotone voice turned into something that was more untroubled. He was starting to become someone you consider a friend, and you couldn't help but wish he felt the same way too.

“Come out and have a drink with us,” you say, carefully cleaning your lens with the back of your shirt. He looks up from where he packs his things into a small duffel bag. You nod enthusiastically. “Come on, it’s my birthday and I want you there. Celebrate my birth, celebrate your win—it’ll be fun.”

“I don’t like to party,” he confesses, scrunching his nose like the thought alone makes him want to puke. “Never have, never will. Happy birthday, though.”

“You’re no fun,” you mumble, placing your camera back into your own bag. “I wish you’d be more fun.” A beat. “Wait. What do you do for fun?”

“I don’t have any. I just…live a quiet, peaceful life whenever I’m able to.” He throws his bag over his broad shoulder. “I like it better that way, anyways.” With that, he walks out of his driver's room.

Gathering the rest of your things quickly, you chase after him, struggling to keep up with his long strides. “It’s okay to have a quiet life if that’s something you want, but, I don’t know…” You turn the corner, soft hair whiplashing. “Aren’t you able to…well, put that aside for special occasions?”

“Like what? Your birthday?”

You blush heavily. “Well—no. But maybe yours? I know it’s coming up. What are you gonna do then? Stay home working on a crossword puzzle?”

“Not necessarily. Perhaps I’ll read a book, who knows.” Still walking towards his car, he momentarily turns back to look at you, watching as your cheeks glow bright pink. He smiles before turning back. “I’ll make sure to let you know.” Unlocking his car, he raises a brow. “You coming?”

“Can’t,” you pant softly. “Promised Checo that I’d help him find a gift for Carlota.”

“His daughter or his wife?”

Seeing as they share the same name, you can’t help but giggle. “I’m actually not sure.” Flashing one last smile, you wave sweetly. “I’ll make sure to let you know!”

He keeps his eyes on you, watching as you jog towards Checo who laughs as you trip over a nearby rock, nearly falling. Max laughs to himself, feeling an unfamiliar burst of happiness. But that all flies right out the window as soon as his phone buzzes deep inside his pocket, making him groan.

“Hey, Dad.”

-

He ends up texting for your birthday and you end up doing the same. You end up going out to party and he ends up staying home. Point is, you do exactly what you two said you were going to do, so when a last minute texts comes through at midnight, you’re low key appalled.

Max, 12:00pm

Are you home?

He knows where you live because you once told him. You’re just surprised he remembers.

Yeah? Where are you?

Max, 12:04pm

Come outside. Bring a sweater.

The ocean roars loudly as you two make your way closer towards the shore. The breeze is ice cold, but you aren’t complaining. He is, though.

“Shit. It’s freezing.”

A giggle. “Need a jacket, princess?”

Sending a deadpan expression, he shrugs you off, choosing to sit close enough to see the waves, but far enough to not get wet. “I don’t want you to make a big deal out of this, but…I got you something.”

“Max,” you coo, admiring the film camera he hands you as if it’s nothing. But it’s not nothing because when it comes to him it means everything. “This must’ve cost you a fortune,” you whisper, fingers tracing the rim of the black camera that shines against the moonlight. “You shouldn’t have.”

“And you shouldn’t have stuck around. But you did. So…thank you.” The tides grow louder, making him do the same. “I never really said it, but I’m grateful for having you as a friend.”

You freeze and he seems to notice what he said, too.

“Co-worker?” he tries, cringing.

You relax. “F-f-friend sounds better.”

And there it is again, that warmness that only seems to appear whenever you’re around. It should be alarming, but at this point it's not. If anything, it’s normal.

“Now I feel like shit,” you speak up, bumping your leg against his. He hums. “I didn’t get you anything for your birthday. And if you know anything about friendships, then you’d know that presents are a vital thing.”

“Don’t fret. I don’t need anything else other than…” he trails off. “How was your birthday, anyways?”

You don’t notice his sudden shift. Or maybe you did. Either way, he doesn’t know. You snort. “Got shit-faced, what else do you expect? Though, I faintly remember Abby kissing the bartender, so that was cool.” When he fails to recognize the name, you roll your eyes as if you’re dealing with a third grader. “Checo’s photographer? She’s awesome. Has her own car.”

It’s his turn to laugh now. “And you don’t?”

“Nope. But God, I wish. Maybe one day.” You dig your feet deeper into the sand, twisting your lips before smacking them as if that might help hydrate them. You squint an eye. “I’m barely home, so there’s really no need for one yet. I can sense you wondering.”

“I was,” he admits. Swallowing, he mimes your movements. “I’m barely home, either.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Do you?” he returns with no response.

You ponder. “I know I miss my parents. My sister. But other than that, no—maybe not.”

“I don’t either.”

“But I thought you were a homebody?” you accuse.

“Well, I am, but…I miss my home. The place I paid for with my own money.”

“What home don’t you miss, then?” 

“The one my parents tried to convince me and my sister that it was. We had all the family portraits and the typical white picket fence, but it just never felt like home to me. And I don’t miss that.”

“Oh.” Just oh. 

“Yeah,” he follows with a raspy voice. “Oh.”

Tugging the jacket closer to your chest, you shiver. Surely your nose is burning bright pink and your lips are chapped, but nothing felt better than this moment for some reason. “I don’t like your dad,” you mumble beneath your breath, hoping the wind would hide your confession, but if it didn’t, you wouldn’t care.

It didn’t. 

Scoffing, Max nods. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“I don’t like the way he speaks to you. It’s not—normal.” A beat. “Do you think it is?”

“I do,” he hums, blinking slowly as he watches the way a bird gets caught in the wind, trying to lurch forward but only getting sent back. “You get used to it.”

“You shouldn't have to,” you whisper, brows pinched up with concern. “I know I said you were a complicated person, but you’re not. And—and I just don’t want you to think that it’s true.”

He’s the first to disconnect his eyes from yours, feeling a burning sensation forming in the depths of his throat. It’s not completely unknown, he’s felt it many times when he was a kid. The only difference was that he used to feel it behind his eyes as well. Which is why it catches him off guard this time around—years later. 

“You’re not like him, Max,” you say with reassurance. Blue eyes soften up, feeling a rush of emotions. This is something he didn’t even know he needed. Tilting his head, he opens his mouth lamely, words getting stuck like a boy and not a man. You smile tenderly. “And I hope you know that.”

He drives you back home that night despite saying you’d be fine walking back. You fall asleep for the next thirty-minutes, and he overthinks through all of it. Fingers tap against the steering wheel, taking occasional glances to where you breath softly. 

“I told you to bring a sweater,” Max groans once you enter his car. “You’re going to freeze to death.”

You wave him off. “I think I’ll survive.”

As soon as you arrive at the beach, you’re quick to rub your hands against your skin, wishing to have some sort of blanket. With a knowing look, the Dutchman rolls his eyes, slipping off his jacket and placing it over your shoulders. 

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Thanks,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek, suppressing a smile. 

Hearing his teeth chatter, he blows his cheeks out, squinting his eyes when a particular gust of wind slaps him across the face. “Shit. It’s freezing.”

“Need a jacket, princess?” you tease, enjoying the way his lips form a snarl. 

You giggle.

It’s his favorite jacket, the one you’re wearing.

It’s his favorite because of that.

“I’m fucked,” he whisphers to himself, grinding his teeth until he feels them squeak. He tries to focus on the road, but that seems to be the most difficult task in the world when he has you right besides him. And he isn’t thinking anything sinisterly dirty—he’s not—but instead, he’s dreaming.

I can be different, he thinks to himself, repeating the same words over and over. I can be someone she likes. If I try hard enough, I can do that. Planning ahead was always something he hated, but just thinking about it now makes his veins rush with excitement. As if the possibility of you might exist somewhere down the line.

You said some things he never thought he’d hear, because to be quite honest, he never thought someone would understand him the way you have. For the longest time, he thought a fucked up person like him could only get with an equally fucked up person or simply he’d have to live by himself for the rest of his life.

And here you came, proving him wrong.

He doesn’t realize how fast he’s going, how he’s pressing hard on the gas. Not until you groan. “Fuck. Are you alright?” he asks with concern as soon as he hears your head thud against the window from his jerky turn at the roundabout. 

“Yeah.” A beat, then a giggle. You rub your head. “This is gonna bruise.” He winces, taking a glance. Keep your eyes on the road, you laugh, but he can’t. Not when your eyes crinkle the way they do. Like your eyes have a dimple of their own. He’s never seen that on anyone else. “We’ll be twins,” you state as some sort of lame joke. And it does the job because he’s quick to let out a chuckle. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

Pulling up to your house, you go in to unbuckle yourself before slipping the jacket off. He shakes his head. “Keep it.”

“That wouldn’t make any sense,” you try. “I’m already home, I’ll be fine. Put it on.”

“Well I’m not cold anymore,” he pushes back. “It’s fine, really. I have plenty—what’s one missing?”

“It's freakishly soft,” you debate, furrowing your brows with concentration. “Okay. Thanks, Max.” Grabbing your film camera, you let out a shy smile. “For this too. Just—for these past few hours. I had fun.”

“Yeah,” he hums gingerly, running his hand along the steering wheel. “So did I.”

This grabs your attention, ears perking up like some German Shepard. “Am I dreaming? Did Max Verstappen just say he had fun? With me?” you interrogate, eyes shining. 

He groaned, tossing his head against his seat. “I take it back—”

“You can’t do that—”

“I take it back,” he repeats firmly, but the amusement poured into his accent tells you otherwise. “Now get out of my car.”

You poke your tongue out at him before raising your hands up defensively. “Drive safe,” you shout over your shoulder as you walk towards your house, backward. “Oh! I almost forgot to ask!” Rushing to his side of the car, you signal for him to roll his window. He does, quirking a brow. You grin. “Let me take you out.”

His heart thuds. Pulses. Skyrockets. 

It’s a scary feeling. 

You beam. “Yes! As your birthday present! Let me take you out. Just you and I.”

“You and I?” he repeats robotically, blinking with round eyes. 

A nod. “Yeah. Just like today. You took me out and gave me an amazing gift. Let me do the same for you.” Pause. “Please?”

It dawns on him that this is the first time a girl has asked him to hang out. Whether it’s romantic or not, it doesn’t matter, and the way you bat your cartoon eyes makes him spiral, feeling his breath hitch. “Y-y-yeah,” he finds himself saying. “Sure. Why not?”

“You only turn twenty-seven once,” you hum. Like that might seal the deal besides the fact that he’s already accepted.

The Dutchman chuckles nervously, fighting the urge to just…God.

“You only turn twenty-seven once,” he agrees, sharing a tight smile, hands gripping the leather wheel. 

-

Your plans end up getting pushed back due to your guys’ tight agenda. The season is tough on not just him, but the entire team. McLaren is thriving, sometimes more than Red Bull, and that has everyone feeling on edge.

Chewing your nails, you watch as Lando crosses the finish line, nearly a minute ahead from the Dutchman. You know he’s not going to want to talk about it, but he will. He has to. 

Because Jos is here.

“You’re getting quite comfortable on that second step,” Jos says tauntingly. He’s not yelling—not like the other times—and somehow, that just makes him scarier.

“I’m not,” Max defends as he rubs a sweaty hand against his face. His hair is longer than usual, so that doesn’t help the awkwardness he feels when he has to push it back. “We still did good—”

“Good is not good enough,” he hisses, pressing a finger against his son's suit, making him take a step back before he regains composure. “Unless it is. For you, I mean.” Silence. “So what? Is it?”

“No,” Max mumbles, fighting the urge to push him back. He’s thought about it—many times. And maybe he’s reached his limit, and maybe he can do it…

But he’d never dare to in front of you.

Blue eyes quietly plead for you to leave. And yes. That would be the wisest thing to do right about now, but your feet betray you. They’re super glued, you begin to suspect. Why else would you not be able to move?

“You used to be so good,” Jos points out, eyes only getting sharper. “What happened? What’s distracting you? Who’s distracting you?”

Max’s eyes flicker for a second—just a fucking second—to where you stand, paralyzed, and he prays he doesn’t notice it. But he does. 

Turning to face your small figure, Jos lets out a shallow laugh, a confused expression mapping his wrinkled face. “Are you serious?”

“I—” Max tries, but is waved off by his massive hand. 

“A crush isn’t going to get you anywhere, Max, come on, you know this.” Jos rubs his eyes, aging quickly. “Especially with a girl like her.”

“I-I-I,” you stutter, feeling your face grow red. Swiftly, this makes you feel as dumb as when you first met Max, but somehow worse. 

A million times worse. 

“Y-y-you what?” Jos mocks your stutter, walking closer to where you stand. “You what?”

“H-h-he doesn't like me. So, there’s no need to…w-w-w—”

“Worry,” Max fills in, marching to stand in between you two, and you immediately feel your shoulders relax, but your breath continues to struggle to find its way out of your system. “There’s no need to worry. I just had a bad race, it happens. It’s no one’s fault.”

��Except it is!” Jos finally screams, spraying his saliva with every punctuation, something you’ve come to realize happens when he gets fired up, which nearly occurs every time he's here. The only difference is that this time, you’re caught in between the argument. Jos breathes heavily, chest puffing. “It's someone's fault, and I’ll lay it out for you since you can’t seem to take responsibility—it’s your fault.”

“No, it’s not,” you protest from behind Max, feeling courage quickly expand through your ribs because you knew that wasn’t true. “It’s no one’s fault.”

But someone like you is invisible to someone like Jos Verstappen. 

Ignoring you, he gets rid of that last step that separates Max from himself, faces inches apart from one another. And it’s terrifying how similar they are. Their eyes, their nose, their lips. The only thing separating them from being twins was Max’ kindness.

“Say it’s your fault,” Jos orders with a solid and demanding tone. “Say the crash was your fault and that you fucked up.”

You’re breath catches once again, frantic eyes darting to where Max clenches his fists before letting them relax.

“The crash was my fault—”

“It's all your fault,” Jos adds.

The Red Bull drivers lips twitch. “The crash was all my fault…” A beat. “And I fucked up.”

“Max,” you whisper, gingerly grabbing his hand. He flinches at your touch and pulls away as soon as his dads eyes linger down to where you two connect. You wither.

“Get your act together,” Jos threatens with fury before walking out, slamming the door behind him.

You jump at the unexpected sound. No one speaks, no one moves, no one dares to acknowledge what just happened.

Max Verstappen lands second on this week's podium, Crofty announces, pulling you away from the daze you were stuck in. Max’s gaze switches over to the T.V. as he stiffens. Say, what are the chances he wins this year's Championship against Lando Norris who seems to be having the time of his life in that McLaren? 

“You did good out there—”

“No. I didn’t.” He looks away. “But that won’t matter because that Championship is mine.”

Mine.

-

You notice he’s reverted back to his old habits the moment he gets snappy. The moment he starts blocking everyone out, including you. You sort of saw it coming, but still—it hurt. And it took you a moment to realize, realize why it burned so much.

You loved Max Verstappen.

He’d always been unapproachable. Spine-chilling, even. But ever since you two started talking to each other as more than strangers, you realize he was none of that. He had once been kind, once been sweet, but this was all Jos’ fault. Weeks went by—months, even—and all you ever really did was snap pictures of him on the stimulator. That’s it.

It’s as if your friendship never even existed.

It came as no surprise when he failed to pick up your phone calls and texts. He was awfully good at doing that. By the time you were a month away from the Championship, you had stopped trying.

Max can feel the awkward tension he had created. It sat there between you two every time you followed after him like a dog on a leash, timidly taking his picture, afraid of getting the wrong reaction out of him. It had happened a couple of times in the past, when you first started working for him, so it seemed you were trying to prevent history from repeating itself. The slight sting in his chest took a jab at him every time without fail.

Vegas was typically a good time for both the drivers and people like you. You’d be the first to admit how easy it is to get lost in the gist of it all. 

Except this time around, it was hard to live through it.

-

Hey. You home?

Max groans, rubbing his eyes until they’re wide awake, picking up his phone. 

Max, 12:00pm

Are you okay?

A minute scrolls by. 

I have your present. 

The first thing he notices is his jacket. His initials are sewn onto the sleeve. He didn’t even know that was a thing, but the sight of it made his stomach flip. “Looks good on you,” he compliments as soon as he enters your car. You chuckle. 

It’s a nice jacket. The best one I own.

He notes how smooth you drive, like a grandma. You’re precise with your turns, ahead with your signals—extremely observant. 

“See how I steer the wheel,” you speak up, wiggling a neat brow. “Unlike you.”

“I said I was sorry,” he laughs, getting a reminder of the last time you two were together. “How’s the bruise?”

“Nearly gone.” A beat. “How’s yours?”

He smiles, remembering about his own. “Nearly gone.”

“Told you we’d be twins.”

You take him to a nearby park. It’s lame, I know, you apologize, wincing shyly. I’m not good at this, but I hope your present makes up for it.

“This is great,” he eases your nerves, seeing how they scribble across your face. “This is my first time at a playground, actually.”

Your eyes widen as soon as you sit down on the yellow swing. “You’re kidding, right?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Huh.”

He takes a seat on a nearby swing, following your soft kicks against the sand. “My dad preferred to have me on the race track than waste my time on anything else.”

This gets an eye roll out of you, soft wind fanning your face as you kick back and forth. “That explains it all.” He shuts his eyes momentarily, enjoying the silence. Far enough away, he can hear the city—but that’s the least of his worries.

You’re the first and only one to give me a childhood so late in life. Round eyes flicker towards him where he digs his shoes into the sand, not worried about the uncomfort it'll cause. If it weren’t for you, I probably would’ve gone my whole life without knowing what a playground is like.

The thought alone is saddening. Your mind makes up an image of young Max, looking into the distance at every other kid who runs towards slides and monkey bars as he straps his helmet and slips on his gloves, longing to know what it’s like to have a normal youth. 

“Don’t feel bad.”

Your lip wobbles. “Don’t make me feel things, then. Why would you say that?”

“I thought we could open up to one another,” he jokes, but you can hear his seriousness in it. That’s all he’s needed, after all—someone to talk to. “Should I shut up from here on out?”

“No,” you reply rapidly, gripping your hand around the metal chain. “Don’t you ever shut up.”

His smile relaxes, eyes opening as he tilts his head, then looks up ahead at the moon. And it’s one of those nights where it’s scarily white—almost too much. One might think it’s a flashlight, by the way it shines, but there’s a clarity to it that makes it easy to admire. “I don’t think I love my dad.”

 You try not to let out a reaction. “You don’t mean that.”

“No…” He clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “I think I do.” A shrug. “I respect him. A tiny bit, but I do. But love?” A bitter scoff. “God, I don’t even think he loves me.”

“Sure he does—”

“He loves my success,” he cuts you off. “And it’s embarrassing how everybody knows it.”

Neither of you are swinging anymore. Gathering your thoughts, you look down at your lap, inspecting your dirty shoes. “If it helps, I love you, Max.” In a heartbeat, his blue eyes dart towards you, seeing the way you breathe evenly. “Is that surprising to you?” He doesn’t answer. He couldn't answer. And boy did he want to. Smiling tenderly, you nod. “It’s not that hard, really.” You begin to swing again, as if you didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on him that left his heart in his throat, beating at an abnormal speed. “Not when you’re so patient with me.”

The chain squeaks, making him snap out of his daze, blinking harshly. “I hate my stutter. I’ve had it tugging at my leg since I was eight. Don’t know what caused it, but it’s been there, trust me. So, when you made fun of it a while back, I thought to myself: this guy is a real douchebag.”

Shame pours within him as he recalls that interaction. Checo had told him about his photographer's stutter and how hard it was to hold a conversation with her at first, but the longer they worked together, the more he found it endearing. And that’s exactly what Max felt the moment you became his photographer at a stage in his life where he still didn’t know you all that well other than the fact that you carried your camera like a newborn baby. 

“I’m so—”

“Don’t be,” you cut him off. “I don’t hold grudges. Plus, you’re quite helpful now that you’re used to my stammering, don’t you think?”

Guilt fuels him as he apologizes with his eyes. “I shouldn’t have mocked you. Ever.”

“Probably.” A hum. “But the way you read my mind makes up for it.”

He’s been doing a lot of that, without even realizing it. He concludes your sentences without batting an eye about the words you’re trying to get out, trying to express. And in all fairness, you hadn’t noticed it either, not until Checo pointed it out.

That’s how normal it had become.

“My stutter was my number one insecurity growing up.” Connecting your gaze back to where he’s already looking, you draw your eyebrows in with gentleness. “And you made it go away.”

Before he can think his words through, he opens his mouth. “I love your stutter.”

You blink, bewildered at the comment. Then—you laugh.

“Thanks?” Your volume increases. “Never heard that one before.”

Screwing his eyes shut, he shakes his head, grimacing at the sound of his voice replaying inside his crowded mind. 

“What I’m trying to say is that I love you,” he rambles, much faster and correctly this time, making you stop your laughter, eyes going wide once again. “Is that surprising to you?” he whispers, awaiting a response with anxiety dripping from his fingertips that clench around the chain that loops around the swing, giving it security. 

“You mean as friends, right?” you ask carefully, making his stomach drop.

“I don’t think friends think about each other the way I think about you,” he confesses, out of breath by the sudden shift he’s caused. “I see you differently.”

As soon as your lips part to say something, he pleads silently as if saying: please, just hear me out. And that’s exactly what you do.

He’s standing right in front of you now, pacing back and forth like some football coach as you watch him like a clueless cheerleader who sits on the sidelines. He clears his throat after a lengthy minute.

“I noticed you first when you walked into your interview four years ago.”

Your mind races back to a moment in time where your camera was significantly cheaper and your dreams were larger than life. 

He nods, watching as you recollect the memories that were tucked in the far back of your brain, like it didn’t matter for the longest time, which to be fair, it hadn’t.

“You were supposed to be my photographer.”

Your brows furrow, completely lost by his words. “What?”

His large hands run through his shaggy hair from his slumber that you had ripped him away from. “From the very beginning, it was supposed to be you and me. But…” 

Neat brows narrow down harder. “But what?”

Max stops his pace, killing his tracks that lands him right in front of you looking up at him with innocent eyes. He sighs. “I said I didn’t want you working with me.”

“Oh.” A beat. “It’s always been this way, then? You not wanting me near you?”

“For a while,” he says quickly before cringing. “But now that we’ve worked together, I realize the mistake I made. How many years it could’ve been us…”

“What’s the real reason?”

Flinching, he squirms under your focus. “What?”

You nod, encouraging him. “You always said it was because you didn’t think we would work well together, and look at us now—we have.” Leaves rustle from the dozen of trees that wrap around the park. “What was the actual reason?”

He’s known the answer to this question from the moment you joined the team, more specifically, Checo’s. He knew the answer to the question the moment he crossed that finish line, claiming his first Championship like the greedy man he was carved out to be by his own father.

He’s just not sure how you’d take it. Coughing awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, he avoids eye contact. “I knew you’d distract me.”

Your stomach twists like a licorice. “Oh God—have I?”

“No!” he yelps, but the defense he guards up like a soldier lets you know that that’s nowhere close to being true. You shrink, increasing the distance between you two. His palms begin to sweat. “You haven’t—”

“Your dad was right,” you whisper. “I have been a distraction to you. That’s why you’ve been having such a weird season compared to the previous ones…”

“No,” he presses firmly. “The car has changed, that’s why I’ve been driving differently, it has nothing to do with you.”

But you don’t seem to engage with his words, instead, you shake your head like an angry child who never gets their way at the candy store. “How can you love me when I’m the reason your dad puts you down every chance he gets?”

It’s like you forced your fingers in at an open wound, one he tends to forget is there when he’s with you, but when you mention it's existence, he remembers why he dreads it so much. 

“He talks to me like that because he’s a shitty dad, not because of you,” he says, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “I liked you the second year I won my Championship. The first time you said my name.”

“Congrats, Max,” you say with an awkward smile after you pull away from an even more awkward hug. “You did good.”

“I was infatuated by you the third year I won my Championship.”

“You can’t keep firing your photographers,” Christian lectured him with a tired voice, making his accent sound ten times stronger. “Especially when we don’t even have their replacement.”

“I haven’t found one I like,” he says as he watches you walk by, heading towards Checo with a bright smile, bragging about a recent setting that puts your old photos to shame. He looks away when you turn towards his garage, as if you felt his eyes on you. “It’s not my fault.”

“No, young man, it is,” the team principal presses, letting out a tired sigh. “You need to mature with the idea of having one, if not—”

“If not what?”

“If not…uh…we’ll…” Christian looks around for a while before turning back to the Dutchman. “We’ll have to take a different approach.”

“Yeah?” Max questions with amusement. “Which is?”

Christian shrugs. “Swapping Checo’s photographer with yours.”

This makes the Dutch physically recoil. “I’ve told you a thousand times already—it would never work out. She’s too…happy all the time.”

“And maybe that’s exactly what you need.”

Max lets out a shaky breath, watching your chest rise and fall as if you find it harder to breathe with every passing second. 

“And I haven’t won my fourth,” he begins with a light smile and an even lighter tone. “But I already know that I love you.”

This is it. The last smile of his. Of that soft dimple of his that caught you by surprise the first time you saw it. It's the last time because you know that whatever happens after is going to ruin it all.

“I love you—”

“I don’t.”

His lips run dry, forcing a small chuckle like he didn’t hear you right. “I’m—I’m.” He smiles hesitantly. “B-but you said…” No more wind circles around you. “You said it.”

“I know.” You wince, brushing your hair back, annoyed with it by now. “I know I did, but…Max. I didn’t mean it in that way.”

The blue eyed Dutch takes a step backward, noting the uncomfortableness the sand is causing his feet to feel now that the adrenaline is gone. “What do you mean?” he murmurs with embarrassment. “What do you mean?”

Licking your lips, you focus on a tree that stands behind him, how fucked up looking it was. As if someone stabbed it over and over again until it bled wood chips.

“I do love you—but as a friend.”

“Why, though?”

“Friendships last longer,” you respond, like you’ve had the answer sitting on the tip of your tongue for the longest time now. “Relationships don’t.”

“Ours could,” he tries, feeling pathetic. “I’m good at everything. I bet I’ll be good at a relationship, too.”

“A relationship is not a game, Max,” you argue, your voice slightly raising, making him clench his jaw. “And I’m sure you think it is because you're such a perfectionist, but it’s not that easy. There’s a lot of dedication that goes into it.”

“Then I’ll be dedicated to you,” he says. “Heart, body, and soul. I swear. Just—give me a chance.”

“I can’t…”

“But why not?”

“Because all I see is a friend!” you shout, regretting it instantly. His skin loses its natural color, switching to a ghostlike state. His pink lips snap shut like a bear trap. And his furrowed brows revert back to their usual place. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you massage your temples that suddenly feel painful.

“We’re so different from one another, Max. Your life is written down, from birth to death. And you know you’ll live a good one. And mine—mine is constantly changing. I mean, look at it. A few months ago I was working with your teammate and now…” 

He remains silent, patiently watching your lips move with every word that pinches his feelings like the biggest bully. “The love I hold for you is there…but not the same way yours is there for me. Your life moves fast, and I’m barely even able to keep up with a conversation with this fucking stutter that appears most times with others, but very few with you.”

Still nothing. Just his eyes focused on this jacket now, like he's already reclaiming it. “And I really do thank you for that, I do. But I thank you the most for letting me get to know you for who you really are. Not who you pretend to be or what others say you are—and I wish I could reciprocate, but…I just… don’t.”

An eternity passes by, it feels like. He doesn’t even know how long you two have been standing here now, but the sunrise is a clear indication that it’s been forever. And he doesn’t feel tired, nor does he feel upset…

He just feels dumb. 

“I get it,” he finally speaks up. “We view each other differently and that’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, but—”

“It's not your fault,” he repeats, wearing a warm smile, hoping you'd believe his lie. That and he doesn’t think he can handle much more. All he wants to do is go back home. “I’m just glad I had someone to talk to for a while. And, well—I’m sorry. I must have gotten confused by the situation. Maybe I don’t love you, who knows. I probably just got excited, you know? Went my whole life without having an interaction like ours, maybe I’m convincing myself to believe in something that was never there to begin with. For either of us, that is.”

I just got excited, is all. 

-

He did end up winning his fourth Championship the way he said he would. You did end up taking that perfect picture as he stood on that podium, shining as bright as his golden trophy. Jos was happy, Christian was happy, the entire team was happy, but you and Max?

Blue eyes lock with yours, feeling the differenceness between it all. He still loves you, he realizes. He wasn’t confused after all. But neither were you.

All you saw was your best friend, and now you’re not even sure you have one anymore. You two no longer hang out, you barely even speak to one another despite spending most of your days together. He still smiles at you from time to time, but it’s not the same. Nothing could ever be.

And it was a soul crushing thing to realize.

“Congratulations,” you muffle against his race suit as you hug him without your arms fully wrapping around him and his hardly wrapping around you. “This is your moment, Max.” A beat. “No one else’s.”

You’re talking about his dad. He knows that. 

Chuckling, he nods. Like he’s sure of that now. That all his success is his, and his alone. That you have finally managed to matter the most in his life—not his trophies, not his father’s respect.

You.

Pulling away, he still feels your invisible hug linger on him in a way he can’t explain and neither could you. You dig into your pocket, pulling out a silver bracelet. 

“Your birthday gift.”

Right. You never got the chance to give it to him after the last real conversation you two ever had. After that, both of you ignored the fact it ever even happened, and in a way, he was grateful for that, but that didn’t stop it from stinging. Looking down at it, he reads the engravement, feeling his heart take a last lap.

To my favorite open book. With love.

He laughs, clutching his fist around it. “I’m nowhere close to being an open book, but…thanks. I love it.”

You giggle, eyes crinkling with tears as you brush them away. “Not at first, but—eventually. It takes time.”

The cheers rise, but neither of you acknowledge them. Not even when they chant his name, over and over.

“You’ve peeled me,” he admits, nearly whispering. “Completely.” Your breath hitches, sucking in that breath that cost to take in. Max shrugs with a gentle grin. “You’ve peeled the lemon,” he jokes with a shaky breath of his own, blue eyes switching to a darker shade that makes your limbs go weak. “So—do your fingers burn?”

You force a laugh. The kind that makes your head tilt just a bit before tippy toeing to give him a proper kiss on the cheek. He goes still.

“I wish they did. That’d make my decision much easier to go through.”

With that, you step away, the Dutch immediately being over taken by journalists, photographers, the FIA, the drivers—everyone except the only person he really wants there celebrating with him.

His mind is racing faster than his Championship winning car. What decision? What could you possibly mean by that—

Christian embraces him, ruffling his sweaty hair as he pours a bottle of champagne over his head, laughing with glory. Max shakes his head, leaning down to ask the only question that ever made his heart break before he ever even got a response.

“Did she quit?”

Christian knows exactly who she is, but what catches him by surprise is how agitated he appeared to suddenly get. The team principal shrugs. “We’ll find you a new one!” 

“No,” Max whispers in disbelief as he tries to find you from a distance, but all he sees are flashing lights that begin to cut his patience thin. “No.”

I wanted her.

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[sugugori]

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I love very casual dominance. It’s always the smallest things, too. It’s one thing to be intentionally dominate in bed, but when they’re doing it out of pure instinct it’s almost sexier. They don’t even realize how attractive it is. Like today, for whatever reason you’re nervous and it’s obvious if not by the way your leg is shaking under the coffee table. And as always, he’s found his spot besides you- maybe his hair is messy because it’s early and you’ve slept in. He nurses a hot black coffee with one hand, and he may tell you twice to stop bouncing your leg but you won’t hear it a third time. He won’t even look away from whatever’s got his attention before you feel the pressure of his hand on your knee. Pressing down until your knee can no longer come back up, his grip almost bruising. But his thumb moves to rubs gentle circles on the area, almost like an apology.

Other times, yeah, it does show up in bed. Like when he’s hitting that spot so good, too good, that you stop breathing for a few seconds. He’s literally taken your breath away, folded you in half and he’s nasty. You don’t even realize it’s happening but he’s so in tune with your body that he picks up on every little thing. He won’t stop his movements either, still feeding you deep strokes, hand behind your head to soften the blow of the headboard. And when he notices, he’ll place his hand on your cheek so gently - a stark contrast to how he’s fucking you- and say, “Breathe, baby.”

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