#look at them?? they are?? almost kinda sorta maybe HOLDING HANDS?????

[braceletofteeth]

I trust you wholeheartedly.

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | read on AO3

summary: Joel and reader finally make it back to the hotel & all that sexual tension is resolved. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv (very stupid, wrap it up kids), creampie, cunnilingus, face-sitting, (resolved) sexual tension, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, forced orgasm (not really? kinda sorta?), smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair

Note: finally, the last part is here! I hope you’ll enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing this. It’s one in the morning so forgive any typos — I wanted to post today. Thank you for the consistent love on this story, I really appreciate all your messages and comments <3

Joel positively drags you back to the hotel, one arm slung across your shoulder, your hastily packed bags in the other. He’s quiet, and you’re afraid that talking will break the spell, that he will hear your voice and remember who you are, and what he’s planning on doing to you. You’re nervous. Excited, yes, but nervous – you’ve been with people before, drunken hookups with collage boys who wanted to get off as quickly as possible. None of it felt like this, you didn’t want any of them as people. With them, it was about the sex itself, with Joel it is almost entirely about him.

Your thoughts are racing in your head, insecurities bubbling up inside of you, things that didn’t matter when you slept with those other people you barely knew – will Joel mind that you aren’t clean shaven? Does he expect you to be more experienced than you are? Are you even good in bed, or will he be underwhelmed, and secretly think you are pathetic?

You want this, more than you have wanted to be with someone maybe ever. But that want makes you vulnerable, strips you of any nonchalance you might have clung to if Joel was anyone else. He isn’t some collage boy who won’t remember you in the morning, he is your father’s best friend, for whom you are a more than controversial choice. Sleeping with you is a threat to his friendship with your father, and still, he’s ready to risk it, he pretty much told you as much. That gives it a level of importance you aren’t used to when it comes to sex.

When you reach the hotel, Joel hurries past the reception before the kind lady can stop you, and despite your nervousness, it amuses you. Joel presses the button to the elevator impatiently, making your stomach flutter. He’s so shameless in his desire for you, not embarrassed by this open display of wanting to get to his room as quickly as possible. You would have worried about looking needy, but not Joel. He’s secure, and solid, and unflinching.

The doors open, and as soon as you’re inside, Joel crowds you against the wall of the elevator, catching your lips in a kiss, before moving his mouth to your neck. You exhale shakily at the feeling of him sucking on your skin, the beard burn a surprisingly welcome sensation.

"They’ve got cameras," you breathe, a weak attempt at regaining some sort of dignity, while Joel quickly unravels you under his mouth and hands.

"Fine by me," he just answers, "Should ask them for a copy to take home with me."

Your knees threaten to buckle at those words, his admission that this isn’t just a holiday hookup, that he will want you just as much when you have left this paradise and returned to the world outside of your bubble.

"Careful, baby," he says, one hand holding you steady by the waist, his lips ghosting over your jawline.

Baby.

With a sudden ding!, the doors open again, and an elderly couple steps inside. Joel stops kissing you, but doesn’t step away, his hand still on your waist, his big body still close to yours. You offer the couple an awkward smile, and barely register the judgement in their eyes as their gazes flicker over Joel’s hair specked with white, because Joel’s hand starts moving again. He slips it under your shirt, no his shirt, rough fingers drawing featherlight patterns on your sensitive waist. His touch is teasing, clearly meant to get some sort of reaction out of you in front of these strangers. Joel’s getting off on this, you realize, on being seen with you, on people knowing just what he plans on doing once you’ve reached the third floor. You bite the inside of your cheek and do your best not to let show how you ache for him, how his gentle touches are affecting you. If you look at him, you know your resolve will crumble, so you pointedly look at a point over his shoulder, and try not to shudder.

As soon as the doors open again, you and Joel get moving, and a nervous chuckle escapes you when you meet his eye. His expression is hard to read – blatant desire, but also something more gentle, something that calms your nerves. It’s Joel. He didn’t leave you hanging when you needed to borrow a bike, didn’t make you feel stupid or guilty for it being stolen, and he won’t make you feel stupid now. That’s what you like the most about him, you think, as his hand ghosts over your back and he leads you towards his room, the way he makes you feel at ease. Whatever the opposite of shame is, that’s what Joel brings out in you.

You reach the door, and want to push it open, but Joel stops you, tilting your face towards him with a gentle touch.

"You don’t have to do this," he says seriously, "we can just go back to the beach. No hard feelings."

You appreciate his consideration, the way he seems to be aware of a certain kind of pressure or expectation his age creates for you, but the idea of going back now, when you’re so close to what you want, makes you want to weep.

"Getting cold feet?", you ask lightly, and he smiles at you, a fond smile, one that seems oddly out of place given the situation.

"I’m just sayin’, I get it if you changed your mind or something. I assume this isn’t the way you…usually do things."

"No," you say, holding his eye contact. "Usually they’re twenty-five years younger."

Joel’s face is a perfect mask, not sure what to make of your remark. You reach up, your hand gently touching his beard, and your eyes glide over the wrinkles around his eyes from years of laughter, the white in his hair, his warm irises.

"God…you’re so fucking sexy," you breathe, and there it is again, that color his cheeks only turn when you compliment him.

"I haven’t changed my mind, Joel," you say honestly, looking directly into his eyes. "Have you?"

"No."

His voice is deep, and he finally, finally opens the door, eyes still on yours.

As soon as Joel pulls you into the room, his lips are on yours again, your arms wrapping around his neck, as he walks you over towards the bed. He’s bigger than you, much bigger, and it only really occurs to you when your knees give out under you, and you land on the bed, sitting in front of him and gazing up.

He looks imposing, almost threatening, if it wasn’t for that expression he has on his face – something behind the desire. You feel safe in his hands, safe to give yourself over, not just in the physical sense. He looks so capable, so easy to trust. His hand comes up to your face, tilting your head up, and you move easily for him, letting him mold you in any way he wants.

"That couple," you begin as you watch him watch you, take you in, "they knew exactly what we were doing."

His hand travels over your throat, and although he doesn’t squeeze, it’s exhilarating to think how well it fits into his palm. You shudder as he pops open the first button of your shirt – his shirt.

"You liked it," you add, voice breathy as the tips of his fingers ghost over your collarbone.

His eyes snap up to yours, and you give a small smile, almost teasing.

"Didn’t hear you complainin’," he answers, holding your eye contact. "Think I should mark you up, so that the reception lady knows, too."

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, but you press your thighs together to relieve that terrible ache. Joel notices, and smirks almost imperceptibly, opening another button on your shirt. He’s taking his time, building tension by making you wait. He’s good at this, you think.

"But then she would stop calling you my Daddy," you breathe, trying hard not to close your eyes under Joel’s touch. Joel cocks an eyebrow, hands lingering on your shirt.

"Don’t tell me you enjoyed that, kid," he says, voice low, eyes intense. You flush, and wonder if he’ll kick you out now, if you have finally made things too weird to continue, but Joel keeps gazing at you, ever steady.

"Cat’s got your tongue?"

You swallow, and let out a shaky exhale. Joel pops open another button.

"That why you kept repeatin’ it to me? Cause it turned you on?"

He’s teasing you, dragging it out of you despite your embarrassment. He wants you to revel in just how debauched it is what the two of you are doing, and you get closer to giving in with every second. Joel’s fingers trace over the swell of your chest, finally visible now that he’s opened most of the buttons, and a weak sound escapes you.

"’S that it, baby?"

"Yes," you breathe finally, your cheeks burning. Joel’s answering smile seems oddly satisfied, as he opens the last button, lets the shirt glide over your shoulders and slump down on the bed in a little heap of linen. You swallow.

"Yes," he repeats, eyes trailing over your body. You wish he’d hurry up and get his hands on you, but with the way slick steadily leaks into your swimsuit, you can’t really complain. He sure knows how to play you like an instrument.

"Say it, then," he says curtly, a simple order, and you briefly close your eyes. It’s almost too good. His eyes are locked onto yours when you open them, expectant and blown wide with desire. He has stopped moving, and you realize he wants to hear you say it before he’ll go any further.

"I…I want to call you Daddy."

Your stomach curls up with need when you hear Joel groan, his resolve quickly crumbling, as he crashes his lips against yours again. He licks into your mouth with urgency, and it’s possessive in a way it wasn’t before, like he wants to claim your mouth. The thought makes you whimper, and Joel trails one hand over your side and down to the waistband of your swimsuit. You didn’t bother putting on your shorts again, just walked to the hotel in your bikini and shirt. His fingers slide under the thinnest part, right on your hip, and he lets it snap against your body. It doesn’t hurt, but the sound makes you groan.

His hands roam over your body relentlessly, squeezing, and tracing, and feeling the swell of your hips, the dip of your navel, your spine, your breasts. You almost don’t notice him undoing your swimsuit, until he slides off the top part, and runs one finger over your pebbled nipples. Your back arches and your hips twitch towards him, but he doesn’t give in yet, just teases the sensitive nubs while you whimper into his mouth.

Then he unties the little bows on your hips, and just like that you’re bare before him, your swimsuit coming undone with one tug of his fingers, while he’s still fully dressed. He’s disturbingly good at undressing you, something that used to be an obstacle to sex now a sensual part of it. You want to feel embarrassed at the amount of wetness between your legs, but when Joel’s fingers slide over your stomach and down to your throbbing core, he groans into your mouth.

"Jesus, you’re drippin’," he breathes against your lips, breaking away to watch his hand press circles into your clit. You try hard not to twitch under his gaze, his blazing eyes and skilled touch. Another whimper escapes you, as he keeps rubbing and watching your reaction, like he wants to take you in before continuing.

It’s embarrassing how quickly he gets you to the brink of an orgasm, but when your hips twitch towards him with little control, he stops, his eyes meeting yours again. You watch him lift his hand up to his mouth and suck his fingers clean, eyes not leaving yours. It’s the most erotic thing you have ever seen, the way he closes his eyes at the taste, and you wonder how you haven’t come yet.

"I’m gonna eat you out," he says, and it’s not a question. Immediately, insecurity floods your veins – you haven’t had someone do that before, and the men you have heard speak about it said they didn’t enjoy it.

"You don’t…I mean, you can just…", your voice trails off. Joel stops in his tracks, watching your face and cocking a brow.

"You ever been eaten out?"

"No," you say quietly, "and you don’t have to."

"I know I don’t have to," he says, and he sounds almost affronted, like he can’t believe you would think he didn’t enjoy it. "You want me to?"

"I just…know some people don’t enjoy it much," you mumble and look down. Joel’s hand comes up to your face, tipping your chin so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

"I want you to come on my tongue," he says, "and then again on my fingers."

You almost whine at that, embarrassment seeping out of you easily, and Joel traces his thumb over your lips. You let it slip into your mouth and suck, swirling your tongue around it.

"Alright? You let me take care of you," he mumbles, eyes trained on his finger between your lips.

"Okay," you say, when his thumb slips from your mouth, and then quietly add "Daddy."

"Good girl," he answers, and a wave of heat rushes to your loins. It’s fucked, what you’re doing, completely fucked, but so good you think you might cry. You were scared thinking about it for too long would break the spell you two seem to be under, but the more you do, the more turned on you get. You have Joel Miller in front of you, calling you a good girl and about to make you orgasm multiple times.

"Lie back, baby," Joel says, and you do, sinking into the pillow that smells like him. Joel keeps watching you, and when he kneels down on the bed and gently spreads your legs with his hands, you think you might come from just that sight. But you hold on, because something about Joel wanting to eat you out, not even having taken off his own clothes, makes you curious. 

He kisses your ankle and trails his mouth upwards, over your inner thigh and your hipbone, until you almost tremble.

"Jesus, Joel," you mutter, hips twitching on the bed, trying to get closer to him without your permission. He looks up at you, pressing his thumb to your clit again, and you curse. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s so much, almost too much.

"That what you call me?"

He doesn’t let up, his touch so insistent, you wonder how he expects you to come up with a single word.

"S-sorry," you stutter, grinding against his hand. "Daddy."

It thrills you to use that word, to know it gets Joel off, enough that he chastises you for using his real name.

"That’s right," he answers, and finally he lets up, placing his big palm on your thigh instead. Then, he leans down, and presses his mouth to your clit, flicking his tongue over it. It’s unlike anything you have felt before, and you actively have to will your hips to stop twitching, afraid to somehow hurt Joel. But he notices, ever perceptive, and breaks away, his mouth and beard already covered in your wet.

"Get up," he says, and you feel your anxiety rise again, questions of what you could have done wrong. He waits, but raises his eyebrows.

"You wanna come, or not?"

So you sit up, confused, and watch as Joel lies down on his back.

"Straddle me," he orders, and you move towards his lap, but he shakes his head. "Over my face, come on, baby."

You stare at him. His expression softens when he sees your disbelief, and he gives you a smile.

"Told you I’d make you come on my tongue, didn’t I?"

"Yeah, but Joel, that’s…"

Your voice trails off. You aren’t sure what you want to say – dangerous? Really fucking hot? You’re still sitting by his side, when he strokes one hand over your thigh, a soothing touch.

"I don’t know where you get the idea from that I don’t enjoy eatin’ you out," he says, his voice almost stern, "but you get that right outta your pretty head. Now, will you do as I say and sit on your Daddy’s face?"

Your mind goes a little blank when Joel calls himself that, and you feel helpless to do anything but nod, give him what he really seems to want.

"Words, baby."

His hand trails up your thigh and over your stomach.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl," he answers, looking directly into your eyes, his strong hands grabbing your waist and helping you move, hoisting you up until you’re hovering over his face.

"If I need to breathe, I’ll tap your thigh, alright?"

"Yes," you breathe, quickly adding "Daddy".

Joel’s hands force your hips downward and although the sensation of his mouth under you is exactly what your throbbing clit was begging for, you’re tentative and unsure of what to do – you don’t want to hurt Joel. 

"Move, baby, make yourself feel good," you hear Joel say, voice muffled by your body. You rock your hips forward once, and let out a groan – your clit bumps into his nose, and you feel him lick into your folds. His hands grab your hips, and he starts rocking you against his face, setting the rhythm for you, and and you feel yourself leak onto his face and into his mouth, as you start moving along with him. His beard feels scratchy in the most delicious way, as he lets you fuck yourself on his mouth, his thick tongue darting out.

"Fuck," you moan, "Fuck J-Joel, Daddy, fuck!"

It’s a lot to take in, Joel Miller’s head between your thighs, lapping at you like he’s starving, like he can’t imagine anything better than having you sit on his face. His strong nose keeps nudging your clit, again and again, and your movements slowly becomes more confident, though also less controlled.

Joel’s hands keep encouraging you, and you’re closer than before, right at the brink of coming all over his face, when Joel groans into your dripping cunt. The vibrations send you over the edge, and you practically sit down on his face with all your weight, but he doesn’t stop you, just lets you ride out wave after wave of your orgasm and chant a mixture of his name and daddy.

You get off of him with shaky legs, afraid you suffocated him, but he smiles up at you, looking absolutely wrecked – his hair is tousled, beard and face drenched in your juices, jaw a little slack. He reaches up to cup your face, and you go with his touch easily, laying down next to him. He rolls over until he’s half on top of you, watching your red, panting face, and slants his mouth over yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, can feel his soaked beard against you, and although it should be impossible after just having come, you throb at the feeling.

"So good for me," Joel mutters against your mouth, and trails his hand downward, over your stomach and to your overstimulated clit. You twitch under his touch, your body unsure if it wants to get closer to Joel, or get away from him, and he chuckles.

"She spent?", he asks, his tone a little amused, when you squirm under him. "That’s okay, baby, I’ll give her a break."

Instead, he slides his fingers through your folds, gathering wetness, and finally pushing into you. Your body opens up for Joel more than willingly, and although the stretch is tight, it’s not nearly as painful as you’re used to, you’re too wet and relaxed for that. 

Joel watches your face, your fluttering eyelids, as he pumps two thick fingers in and out of you in shallow thrusts. You whine – you know you’re being vocal, too loud for a hotel room, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when Joel curls his fingers against that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Your hips twitch upwards, and Joel smirks.

"There we go, baby, there we go," he mumbles, moving his fingers relentlessly, and already you can feel another orgasm building. He doesn’t let up, just lets you whine under him, thrash around, because his touch is almost too much, too good, too intense, but just right. 

"Give me another one, baby, come on," he coaxes, and you think your ears start ringing when his palm starts grinding into your clit with every movement of his hand, the tips of his fingers pressing hard against your insides. "You just let Daddy make you feel real good."

It feels like bursting apart, when you come again, some tight coil snapping and Joel practically wrenching the orgasm out of you with his relentless hand and dirty words.

"Daddy," you groan, your hand coming up to your face, as you bite down on your knuckle. Joel watches you with bright eyes, lets you tremble until he can tell it’s too much, and only then does he slip his fingers out of you. 

You’re weak, exhausted from the intensity of your pleasure, and Joel chuckles when you sigh, watching your glassy eyes.

"Okay if I fuck you now?"

You think you’d let him kill you, if he really wanted to.

"Yes," you breathe, "please."

He finally – finally – takes off his shirt, arms flexing, chest sprinkled in dark hair, his belly protruding over his trunks. You wish you had a camera, or a chisel so you could scratch his glorious body into a block of stone. He’s hard in all the right places, and soft in the rest, and with a jolt you realize you’re allowed to touch now, no longer confined to watching him swim from your deckchair.

"Jesus," you breathe, sliding one hand over his biceps, as he unties the band of his swimming trunks. You know you’re hindering him, but you can’t bring yourself to stop your hand from trailing over his chest, and down to his belly.

"Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot," you mutter when he slides the trunks over his hips. Then your mind goes a little blank, because finally his bulge isn’t confined to his trunks anymore, finally he’s naked in front of you, kicking his clothes onto the floor.

He’s big, just like the rest of him. Long, and thick, and uncut, and dripping in precum, the dark hair at the base of his cock a harsh contrast to the reddish skin. Joel closes his fist around himself, pumps twice, until you tentatively put your hand over his. His cock twitches, and you feel a little overwhelmed with power. Joel let’s go and lets you do the work, your hand much smaller than his. He looks even more imposing like this, as you move your hand up and down his length.

"Wanna suck it," you say suddenly, and you’re not entirely sure where the words come from, but you know they’re true – you want to get him into your mouth, feel him use your face the way you used his. Joel groans.

"God, you’re killin’ me," he answers, eyebrows furrowed, voice wrecked. You squeeze your hand a little tighter, just to hear him make his little sounds again.

"I’ll come if you do, baby, and I’m not sure I have two rounds in me," he says, regret lacing his voice, but his words make you clench around nothing – his age turns you on more than you thought possible.

„And I need to fuck you tonight,," he adds, and wraps his big palm around your wrist, so you stop moving it over his throbbing cock.

"So fuck me," you breathe instead, eyes wide and glued to his. You watch his expression change, something primal take over, and suddenly he’s on top of you, his hips pressing into yours.

"Again," he orders, almost growling.

"Please fuck me, Daddy," you whisper, your stomach clenching and unclenching in anticipation. Joel looks like he might come from just your words, but after a moment of collecting himself, he kisses you briefly.

"Alright, pretty girl, I’ll give it to you real good," he promises, and aligns his cock with your entrance. "You’re so goddamn fuckin’ wet, I can slide right in."

And he does, pushing his hips into yours. You feel the stretch of the thick tip, the widest point almost bordering on painful, and you bite your lip. Joel slides into you slowly, breathing into your mouth and making you feel everything. Then the tip is sheathed inside of you and Joel groans quietly.

"Grippin’ me so tight," he mutters, consistently pushing on, "halfway there, babygirl."

Your pussy flutters around him, clenches and unclenches, as he keeps going, and going. You feel full, and still Joel pushes on, until his hips are fully pressed into yours, and you feel him deeper inside of you than you have felt anything before.

"Breathe, baby," he reminds you, and you let out a shaky breath you didn’t notice you were holding. "Attagirl."

When he pulls out of you again, you make a raspy whining sound, your stomach clenching at the intense drag. Joel’s hands start trailing over your body, yours are gripping his shoulders.

"Look so pretty, all stretched out on my cock," Joel praises you, and God, the mouth on this man. If you weren’t so exhausted from the first two times he made you come, you would be trembling. You groan weakly, as he pushes back in, and starts moving at a quicker pace, setting a rhythm he likes. He punches into you with precision, angling his hips just right, and then he’s nudging against that spot inside of you.

"Ah…Daddy!"

"I’ve got you, sweet girl," he groans, moving both your wrists over your head, and pinning them down with one big hand – he easily engulfs you. You tug against him, testing his grip, and your hips twitch upward when you realize you can’t get out. He’s fully in control now, his cock nudging into you insistently, and you can only take it. You’ve never felt so cared for, as now, getting fucked raw by Joel Miller.

He doesn’t kiss you, but he keeps staring into your eyes, and it feels weirdly intimate. His movements become faster, more forceful, his belly nudging your body with every thrust. You whine, your body unable to do anything except for letting another orgasm build, one you didn’t think yourself capable of. The corners of Joel’s mouth twitch, when he feels you clench, and he fucks you harder.

"Daddy," you yelp at one particularly deep thrust, but Joel doesn’t let up – you don’t want him to. "Wanna come, p-please."

"You wait for my permission," Joel answers. Your belly feels like it’s on fire, tightly coiled with the need to just let go, but Joel wants you to wait, so you will wait. Anything, you think, anything. Joel’s jaw is slack, his brows furrowed, his free hand rough on your skin, but not unkind. You clench around him, and try your best to hold off coming, your eyes falling close.

"Eyes on me, kid," Joel orders, and despite your concentration, your eyes snap open. "Fuck, that’s it, my good girl."

My girl.

Joel fucks you like it, like you’re his. It’s possessive from beginning to end – the way he looked at you when you first wore his shirt, how he wouldn’t back away from you in the elevator. He plays your body like it’s his, dragging the pleasure out of you, and it makes your head spin. You can feel his thrusts go sloppy, can feel his restraint cracking, and your eyelids flutter a little.

"You want it inside, babygirl?"

You didn’t talk about that. You know you should say no. The head of his cock nudges your insides, and Joel’s free hand presses down on your stomach, feeling himself inside of you from the outside with every thrust.

"Yes," you breathe, "yes, please, Daddy, I w-want it."

Suddenly Joel is the one who has to close his eyes, as he keeps fucking into you.

"Fuck, you come for me first, baby," he groans, sliding his hand down to rub at your overstimulated clit. It’s too much, right on the brink of painful, and you thrash under him.

"I c-c-can’t Daddy, it’s…", your voice trails off, lost in the impact of his thrusts, but Joel keeps rubbing tight circles.

"Yeah, you can, baby, you know why?"

You don’t have it in you to answer, so you just stare into Joel’s eyes. You feel something wet on your cheek, and realize you must be crying, crying from how good you feel, how full.

"Cause I said so."

Your pussy throbs, clenches, and Joel moves his finger over your clit faster.

"Come for me, baby, I’ve got you," Joel drawls, and finally you do, your vision going white, your muscles going slack as you let Joel drag his cock in and out of you, the pleasure white-hot.

"Fuck, good girl, that’s my good girl," Joel groans, thrusting into you faster, until he presses into you harder than ever before, and you feel his thick cock twitch and throb against your cervix. Something hot bursts into you, and Joel keeps fucking into you for a couple more seconds, his eyes falling closed. Then, pulls out of you, your pussy fluttering, and he falls down next to you on the bed. You feel like jelly – you couldn’t move if you tried. Joel’s cum leaks out of you slowly, an odd, but pleasant sensation, and you sort of wish he would push it back into you.

After a couple of seconds, Joel pulls you against him, your face coming to rest against his broad chest, and he presses a kiss to your hair. You inhale his scent, and your spent muscles relax further, if possible.

"You did so good," Joel mutters, "so perfect."

His hands trail up your side and arms softly, a soothing contrast to the insistent way he fucked you. Your mind is pleasantly quiet, all caught up in his voice, his scent, his touch, his spent leaking out of you.

"Thank you," you sigh, and Joel chuckles. You smile weakly.

"Wanna get cleaned up, sweet girl?"

"No," you manage, "just wanna sleep."

Joel huffs a laugh, and tucks you more tightly against him.

"I’ll wake you before dinner."

***

When he does, the sun is already sinking. He trails kisses up and down your face – the softest way you’ve ever been dragged back to reality and out of a dream, and the first time you think reality is more fantastic than anything your sleeping brain could come up with.

"Mornin’, sleepyhead," Joel mumbles, catching your mouth in a kiss, his lips moving against yours slowly. You sigh into his mouth, when he pulls away.

"We should take a shower, baby, and you need a pill."

You open your eyes, a little confused.

"A pill?"

Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, I’m not opposed to children, but I think your Dad might be," he says, and you snort weakly. Right, you think, the morning after pill.

"I’ve got an IUD, Joel, don’t worry."

He presses a kiss to your collarbone.

"Back to Joel, are we?"

You blush, and he laughs. It’s blissful, and a little unreal – Joel Miller, teasing you about the debauched, perfect sex you had not two hours ago.

"You prefer Daddy?"

"It’s…got a ring to it."

You can hear the smirk, even though your eyes are closed again, and you’re stretching your tired limbs. You yawn.

"How about room service?", you ask, Joel’s hand softly stroking the hair out of your face.

"Hmm," he mumbles, trailing one hand over your stomach, "or… we take a nice shower, you let me clean you, we have dinner with you lookin’ all fucked out, and everyone downstairs will know what we’ve been up to."

Your eyes open, and although you’re entirely, completely spent, your thighs clench together. Joel grins.

It’s quite the picture – Joel, with an arm around your shoulder ordering two cocktails, the redness on your skin from where he sucked too harshly or his beard burned you. You can see it in front of you, the same waiter as yesterday bringing your food, except this time, Joel lets you use his fork to try his meal, and instead of hurrying down to the beach afterwards, he’ll kiss you slow and long, just because he can, in front of every other guest in this hotel.

„Yeah…or that."

[hottiesforhockey]

underneath the tree ⎜j.hughes + l.hughes

🎄pairings: jack hughes x afab!reader ⎜luke hughes x afab!reader 🎄genre: christmas special ⎜ romance ⎜ smut 🎄warnings: thigh riding ⎜ heavy petting ⎜ oral (f recieving) ⎜threesome...sorta...kinda? ⎜ there's kind of a hint of something between luke and reader 👀 ⎜luke is sick of the lovesick couple ⎜ luke showing jack how its done ⎜ fingering ⎜ 🎄synopsis: when luke comes home to catch you and his brother up to no good under the christmas tree - he decides to give jack's christmas present to you early. 🎄word count: 7k 🎄authors note:  this is the third post in the christmas special series! and definitely ended up a little longer then anticipated. feel free to check out the others already posted or the other upcoming fics : christmas specials

(unedited)

“You can’t just throw the lights on top of the tree and hope for the best.” You sigh as you snatch the christmas lights from your boyfriend’s hands - demonstrating how to loop them around every branch to get the best coverage. 

“I never thought I’d be the one decorating to be fair - it’s usually Luke’s job.” Jack huffs in return. You roll your eyes as you glance up at the clock in the living room - Luke had promised to be home by eight thirty to help decorate the house for the christmas season, it was almost nine o’clock and he still hadn’t shown up. 

“Have we called him? What if he was in an accident?” You say, Jack waving you off as he continues looping the lights around the tree just like you showed him. 

“He’s fine, he said he was grabbing a few gifts on the way home and he always gets stuck when he goes shopping.” 

“Still, it’s not like him to be this late,” you mutter, biting your lip as you glance at your phone. No messages. No missed calls. A strange unease twists in your stomach, but you shake it off. Luke had a habit of losing track of time when he got into the holiday spirit.

“I’m sure he’ll walk through the door any minute now, arms full of bags and that goofy grin on his face,” Jack says, attempting to reassure you. But even as he speaks, you notice the slight furrow in his brow.

The two of you continue working in silence for a while, the soft hum of Christmas carols on the radio filling the room. The tree starts to come together beautifully—twinkling lights cascading perfectly over the branches, thanks to your precise instruction.

By the time the ornaments are unpacked and ready to go, it’s well past nine-thirty. The unease has grown into a dull throb in your chest. You can’t help but glance out the window every few minutes, hoping to see Luke’s car pull into the driveway.

“Maybe I should try calling him again,” you say, picking up your phone and scrolling to his name in your contacts. Jack pauses, an ornament in hand, and nods.

“Can’t hurt,” he says quietly, his usual teasing tone subdued.

You press the call button and hold the phone to your ear. It rings once, twice, three times before going to voicemail. Frowning, you hang up and try again, only to get the same result.

“He’s not answering,” you say, your voice tighter than you intended.

Jack sets down the ornament and walks over, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. He probably just lost track of time like I said. Let’s give it another half-hour, and if he’s still not back, we’ll go looking for him.”

You nod reluctantly, though the unease refuses to budge. Together, you and Jack hang the first few ornaments on the tree, the joy of decorating dampened by Luke’s absence.

“Maybe we can do something a little more… interesting while we wait.” Jack hints, raising his eyebrows in anticipation as you let out a scoff of laughter surprised but his suggestion. 

“Oh, so this is why you agreed to help decorate,” you tease, raising an eyebrow. Jack grins, leaning casually against the edge of the couch.

“Caught me,” he says with a shrug. “But come on, it’s better than sitting here staring at the clock, isn’t it? We’re just killing time until Luke gets back. Why not make it a little more fun?” You hesitate, glancing at your phone on the table. Luke’s absence still gnaws at the back of your mind, but Jack’s mischievous expression is infectious. Maybe he’s right—what’s the harm in a little distraction?

“All right,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. “What did you have in mind?” Jack’s grin widens. 

“I knew you couldn’t resist. Let’s see... how about we start with a little wager? Whoever hangs the most ornaments in five minutes wins. Loser has to fulfil the other person’s wish.” You laugh despite yourself, already picturing Jack fumbling with ornaments in his rush. 

“You’re on,” you say, grabbing a handful of decorations and heading to the tree. Jack grabs his own pile and sets a timer on his phone. 

“Ready... set... go!” 

The two of you dive into the game, the tension from earlier fading into the background as you race to hang ornaments. Jack’s competitive streak kicks in immediately—he’s practically tossing ornaments onto the branches in his rush, while you focus on keeping yours evenly spaced and stylish.

“Careful,” you warn as Jack tries to hang a bauble too high and nearly knocks the star off the top of the tree. “If you break one, you’re automatically disqualified.”

Jack mutters something under his breath but adjusts his approach, all while shooting you a playful glare. The timer buzzes just as you’re reaching for your last ornament.

“Time’s up!” Jack announces triumphantly, stepping back to admire his handiwork—or rather, lack of it. Half his ornaments are clustered on one side of the tree, dangling precariously.

“Not bad,” you say, fighting back laughter. “If the theme was ‘Christmas chaos.’”

“Hey, it’s about quantity, not quality,” he retorts, counting his ornaments. “Twenty four. Beat that.” You let out a long sigh as you count your ornaments knowing you’re no where close to Jack’s debatable success. 

“Nineteen.” You hiss, your lips forming into a pout - Jack lets out a whoop of joy, leaning forwards to press a soft kiss to your temple as he dances past you. “Okay, Cheater, what’s your wish?” You can’t fight the smile growing on your face as Jack slides up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you against him. 

“I want you to kiss me.” He whispers softly, “Kiss me like you’ve never kissed anyone before.” He continues, his smile growing as he presses a kiss to your neck when you shiver in his arms. 

“You want to make out with me? That’s your wish?” You say tilting your head to give him better access to your sensitive skin, “You could ask me to do all your chores for the week, and instead you ask for a kiss?” 

Jack chuckles softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Chores aren’t nearly as fun, and besides," he murmurs, his lips grazing your skin, "this feels like a much better way to spend the evening." Your heart stutters as his hands slide over your waist, pulling you closer. The twinkling lights from the tree cast a warm glow over the room, but all you can focus on is the way Jack looks at you—like you’re the only thing that matters.

“You’re impossible,” you murmur, tilting your head as his lips press to the hollow of your throat. Your breath hitches at the soft, deliberate pressure. His fingers trace small circles against your lower back, his touch grounding but electric all at once.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he whispers against your skin, his voice low and intimate. “Not stopping me.”

You try to muster some kind of retort, but the words melt away as Jack leans back slightly, catching your gaze. His eyes flicker to your lips, and in that moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist. Slowly, achingly slowly, he leans in, brushing his lips against yours in the lightest, teasing touch.

It’s not enough—not nearly enough.

You close the distance, capturing his mouth in a kiss that’s anything but shy. Jack responds immediately, his hands tightening on your waist as he deepens the kiss, coaxing you into a rhythm that’s both tender and demanding. His lips are warm and soft, his movements deliberate as if savouring every second.

One of his hands slides up your back, threading into your hair, while the other keeps you anchored firmly against him. The heat of his body against yours is intoxicating, and the taste of him—the faint hint of cinnamon from the mulled cider earlier—sends your senses reeling.

Jack shifts, pressing you gently against the edge of the couch as his kisses trail from your mouth to the curve of your jaw, then down the line of your neck. He lingers there, his lips and tongue exploring the sensitive skin, drawing soft gasps from you with every touch.

“Jack,” you manage to breathe, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if to steady yourself. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his own dark and filled with something that makes your stomach flip.

“What?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Too much?”

You shake your head, your cheeks flushed and your pulse racing. “Not even close,” you whisper, pulling him back into another kiss. This time it’s hungrier, more insistent, the kind of kiss that leaves no room for doubt about how badly you want him. His hands explore your sides, your back, leaving a trail of heat everywhere he touches. Time feels suspended as the two of you lose yourselves in each other, the earlier tension replaced by an overwhelming, magnetic pull.

When you finally part, your breathing is uneven, and your heart pounds in your chest. Jack presses his forehead to yours, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your cheek. “Satisfied?” You whisper into the space between you, Jacks head shaking as he pulls you with him as he falls back onto the couch. 

“Not even close.” He groans, mimicking your words from earlier - his hands gripping your waist as you straddle his thighs. Jack’s lips find your again, his fingers digging into your sides as your hips slowly roll forwards, your arms looping around his neck.

Just as your lips part, Jack’s hands tightening on your waist, the sound of the front door creaking open shatters the moment. You both freeze, heads snapping toward the noise. Luke’s voice echoes through the hallway, laced with a familiar blend of frustration and something that almost sounds... hopeful.

“Why’s it so dark in here? Did you two forget how light switches work, or—oh.”

Luke stops in his tracks as he steps into the living room, his arms full of shopping bags. His eyes lock onto you, perched on Jack’s lap, your faces flushed and breaths uneven. The warm glow of the Christmas lights does little to mask the intimacy of the moment.

For a heartbeat, no one moves. Luke’s gaze flicks between you and Jack, the tension in his posture unmistakable. The bags in his hands crinkle as he tightens his grip, his jaw clenching.

“Luke!” you exclaim, scrambling off Jack’s lap, your cheeks burning. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly,” Luke says, his tone sharp, though there’s a slight waver in his voice. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Jack sighs, standing and rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re not interrupting, Luke. Relax.”

Luke’s eyes narrow, his gaze settling on you for a beat longer than comfortable. “Sure doesn’t look that way.”

“Come on, don’t start,” Jack says, his voice firm but not unkind. He steps closer to his younger brother, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re late, and we’ve been trying to finish the tree without you.”

“I can see that,” Luke mutters, shrugging off Jack’s hand. His eyes flick to you again, softer this time, a mixture of longing and hurt flashing across his face before he looks away.

You shift uncomfortably, the weight of the situation settling in. Luke had always been sweet to you—offering to help with chores, finding excuses to spend time around you, and sometimes even going out of his way to get your favourite snacks. At first, you thought it was just him being polite, but over time, it became hard to ignore the lingering looks and the way his face would light up when you smiled at him.

Jack, of course, seemed blissfully unaware of his younger brother’s crush, even teasing him about being “the baby” of the family. 

— or so you thought. 

Now, though, standing in the awkward silence, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Luke’s crush had become more complicated.

“Luke,” you start gently, taking a step toward him. “We were just messing around, trying to make decorating a little more fun. We didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what?” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve ever heard it. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the usual warmth in them is replaced with something raw. “Didn’t mean for me to walk in on you two... like that?”

“Hey,” Jack interjects, stepping between you and Luke, his tone defensive. “Watch it. Don’t take your anger out on her.”

Luke’s mouth snaps shut, but his glare shifts to Jack. “Of course, you’d defend her,” he mutters bitterly, his voice barely audible.

“Because she’s my girlfriend,” Jack says firmly, his hand resting protectively on your back. “And you’re my brother. What’s going on with you, Luke? You’ve been weird for weeks.” Luke lets out a long sigh, dropping his shopping bags to the floor before crossing his arms tightly over his chest. 

“Jack, it’s fine.” You say softly, reaching out for your boyfriends hand, “He didn’t mean any—” 

“Yes he did.” Jack interrupts, “He’s been weird since I asked him to help me with your christmas present.” Jack says scowling at his younger brother. The two Hughes lock in a tense conversation with their eyes - your gaze flicking between the two in confusion. 

“What? What are you talking about?” You question, your gaze settling on your boyfriend. 

“She didn’t even know about it?” Luke sneers at his brother - his eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise as he removes himself from the staring contest with Jack - his gaze sliding over your confused face. 

Jack shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair, his usual confidence faltering. “It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal,” he mutters, avoiding your gaze. “It was just an idea I had for your gift. But Luke... didn’t exactly take it well.”

“Jack,” you say slowly, stepping closer. “What idea? What’s going on?”

Luke crosses his arms tightly over his chest, glaring at his older brother. “Go ahead,” he says, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Tell her. Let her hear this brilliant plan of yours.”

Jack exhales heavily, clearly frustrated. “I thought it would be... meaningful. Special. Something different from the usual gifts,” he begins hesitantly, his eyes flicking toward you before quickly looking away again. “I asked Luke to... spend a night with you. If you wanted to.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can hear is the faint hum of the Christmas lights. You blink, processing what he’s just said. “Spend a night with me?” you repeat, your voice soft but steady.

Jack nods, his cheeks flushing as he finally meets your gaze. “I know it sounds... unconventional. But I wanted to give you something that showed how much I trust you, how much I trust us. You’ve always been close with Luke, and I thought... maybe it could be something we all share. If you’re okay with it.”

Your stomach flutters—not with discomfort, but with intrigue. You glance at Luke, who’s staring at Jack like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, and then back at Jack, whose expression is a mix of vulnerability and nervousness.

“Jack,” you say carefully, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Are you serious?” He nods, his voice firm despite the tension in the room. 

“Only if it’s something you’d want. I’d never push you into anything, and if you’re not into the idea, that’s totally fine. But I thought... maybe.”

Luke lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair. “This is insane,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious.”

“I think he is,” you murmur, your gaze still on Jack. His sincerity is unmistakable, and the thought of his trust—and Luke’s involvement—sends a curious warmth coursing through you.

You take a slow step toward Luke, your pulse quickening as his eyes snap to yours. “What about you?” you ask softly. “How do you feel about it?”

Luke’s mouth opens, then closes again as he searches for words. “I... don’t know,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “This isn’t exactly something I ever thought about. And honestly, I’m not sure I believe Jack’s really okay with it.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t,” Jack interjects firmly, his gaze flicking to his brother. “Look, I know this is weird, but I trust both of you. I love her, and you’re my brother. I thought... maybe this could be something meaningful for all of us.”

Your heart races as you glance between the two brothers, their contrasting expressions—Jack’s cautious hope, Luke’s guarded confusion—only adding to the charged atmosphere. You step closer to Jack, resting a hand on his arm.

“You’re sure about this?” you ask softly, searching his eyes.

He nods, his hand covering yours. “Only if you are. This is about what you want.”

You turn back to Luke, who’s watching you with a mixture of uncertainty and something deeper—something almost longing. “And you?” you ask again, your voice steady despite the nervous energy bubbling inside you. “Would you be okay with it?”

Luke hesitates, his gaze dropping to the floor before slowly returning to yours. “I don’t want to make things weird between us,” he admits. “But if this is really what you both want...” His voice trails off, leaving the unspoken possibilities hanging in the air. You take a deep breath, your decision crystallising as you glance between them. 

“I think...” you begin, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’d like to try.”

Jack exhales, relief washing over his features, while Luke’s expression shifts to one of stunned disbelief.

“Seriously?” Luke asks, his voice cracking slightly.

You nod, stepping closer to him. “Only if you’re okay with it,” you assure him. “But yeah. I think I’d like to see where this goes.”

Luke glances at Jack, as if seeking confirmation, and Jack nods firmly. “She’s serious,” Jack says. “And so am I.” The tension in the room shifts, giving way to something warmer, more electric. As the three of you stand there, the possibilities of what comes next hanging in the air, you can’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and anticipation

Luke exhales slowly, his expression shifting from disbelief to cautious consideration. His eyes flick between you and Jack, the charged silence thickening. Jack steps closer, placing a steadying hand on your back, his touch grounding as he glances at his brother.

“Luke,” Jack says softly, his tone more relaxed now. “This isn’t about pushing boundaries or making things weird. It’s about trust. And... about her.” His gaze moves to you, warm and protective. “If she’s open to it, I am too. And I think, deep down, you’ve been curious too.”

Luke swallows hard, clearly at war with himself. Finally, he nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Alright,” he says, his voice low but steady. “But only if this is what you want.” His eyes lock on yours, his sincerity striking.

You smile softly, stepping forward to close the gap between you and Luke. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” you assure him. Then, turning your head slightly, you glance back at Jack.  The weight of the moment settles over the three of you, the air crackling with an intensity that feels both thrilling and vulnerable. Slowly, you step closer to Luke, the uncertainty in his expression giving way to something warmer. You reach out, your hand brushing against his cheek, and he freezes for a moment before leaning into your touch.

Luke nods slightly, convincing himself that this is really happening, his eyes flicking to Jack’s before returning to yours. He leans forward, hesitating just a fraction before his lips meet yours. The kiss is tentative at first, soft and searching, but it deepens as you respond, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging on the ends of his curls as he pulls your closer to him - his hands knotted in your shirt.

Behind you, Jack’s hands slide down your arms, his touch both reassuring and suggestive. When Luke pulls back, his breathing uneven, Jack presses a kiss to the side of your neck, his lips warm against your skin.

“You okay?” Jack murmurs, his voice close to your ear.

You nod, your breath hitching as you look between them. “Better than okay,” you whisper.

Luke’s expression softens, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “This still feels... surreal,” he admits, his voice tinged with a mix of wonder and hesitation.

Jack chuckles softly, his tone light but teasing. “You’ll get used to it,” he says, his arm sliding around your waist as he pulls you closer to him.  Luke’s lips twitch into a tentative smile, “Yeah,” he says quietly. 

As the three of you stand there, the Christmas lights casting a warm glow over the room, the boundaries between you blur, giving way to something deeper, more intimate. Your gaze snaps away from Luke’s as you both turn to look at Jack who steps away from the two of you. 

“Alright, well I’ll leave you to it.” Jack jokes lightly, clasping his hands together, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He warns his younger brother, whose mouth falls open as his brothers attempted retreat. 

Luke’s hand shoots out, grabbing Jack by the arm before he can leave. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Luke says, his voice low but firm. His grip tightens just enough to make Jack pause. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, half amused, half surprised. “What? Thought you’d wanted me out of the way.”

Luke smirks, an edge of confidence creeping into his expression. “Not anymore. You started this, Jack. You don’t get to walk away now.” His words are calm but carry a deliberate challenge that makes Jack hesitate.

You glance between them, your pulse quickening as the tension shifts again, this time carrying a playful undercurrent. “Luke’s got a point,” you chime in, your voice soft but teasing. “You can’t just drop this bomb and then vanish.”

Jack tilts his head, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh, I can’t?” he teases, his tone light but his eyes glinting with something sharper.

Luke steps closer, his grin widening as he stands toe-to-toe with his older brother. “Not unless you’re scared,” he taunts, his voice dripping with mock bravado.

Jack scoffs, rolling his eyes but clearly enjoying the game. “Scared? Of you?” He gestures vaguely in your direction, his grin turning wicked. “I just figured I’d give you two some space. But if you need me to show you how it’s done...” He trails off, shrugging dramatically.  Jack exhales slowly, his gaze locking with yours for a long moment before shifting to Luke.

Luke watches the exchange carefully, his arms still crossed but his posture relaxing. “You sure you’re up for this, Jack?” he asks, his tone teasing but his eyes serious.

Jack smirks, his confidence returning in full force. “Please,” he says, stepping closer to you and sliding an arm around your waist. “I think the real question is—are you?”

Luke lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Cocky as ever,” he mutters, but there’s a warmth in his tone now, a subtle shift in the dynamic between the three of you.

As the Christmas lights twinkle in the background, the room seems to hum with an energy that’s both thrilling and tender. Whatever comes next, you know it’s something none of you will forget.

Luke watches Jack closely, his smirk fading into something softer. “Alright,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, as if he’s surrendering to the moment. “Let’s see if you can back up all that talk.”

Jack chuckles, but it’s less sharp now, his usual cocky confidence tempered by the weight of what’s unfolding. His gaze shifts to you, and he presses a lingering kiss to your temple, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. “You okay with this?” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring.

You nod, your heart racing but not from nerves—from excitement. “Yeah,” you say softly. “You two can stop asking me that now.”

Luke steps closer, his hesitance melting away as he mirrors Jack’s careful movements. He brushes a hand along your arm, his touch light and tentative, as though he’s testing the waters. When you glance up at him, he meets your gaze with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “It’s about continuous consent, this stops the second you say so.” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sure,” you reply, and you reach out to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Jack doesn’t let the moment linger too long. “See, Luke?” he says lightly, his tone edging back into playfulness. “Told you she’d be into it.”

Luke rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice behind it. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” Jack shoots back with a grin, his other hand sliding along your waist as he pulls you closer.

The charged air between the three of you grows heavier, the lines blurring even more as you feel Luke’s hand brush against your back. He’s still cautious, like he’s waiting for a signal that it’s okay to let go, to fully step into this strange, uncharted space the three of you have found yourselves in. Jack notices the hesitation and chuckles softly.

 “Relax, Luke. You’re not going to break her.” His voice is warm, teasing but kind, and it seems to put Luke at ease. With that, Luke leans in, his lips finding yours again. This time, the kiss is more confident, his movements less uncertain as his hands settle on your waist. Jack’s presence is grounding, his steady touch a constant reminder of the trust you all share.

Jack grins, clearly satisfied, while Luke’s expression softens, his usual sharp edges replaced with something vulnerable and new. The room feels smaller now, the three of you wrapped in a moment that’s equal parts thrilling and overwhelming. Luke’s voice breaks the silence, his tone lighter now but still tinged with disbelief. 

“This is... not how I thought tonight would go.”

Jack laughs, his hand resting on Luke’s shoulder. “Welcome to life with her,” he says, his gaze full of affection as he looks at you. “Never boring.” Jacks pulls your hair away from your shoulders, taking a step back and making his way over to the couch, perching on one of the cushions as he speaks, “Baby, you should tell him all about that thing you wanted to try.” 

Luke’s eyes leave his brother as he tilts his head down to look at you, his hands leaving your waist to gently cup the underside of your jaw, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as he takes you in. He raises a questioning brow as you hesitate, the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“I like your thighs.” You blurt out - Jack letting out a bark of laughter as your words linger. 

“And what do you want me to do with this information?” Luke questions back. 

“I want to ride them.”  

Luke blinks at your bluntness, his grip on your jaw faltering for a split second before his lips quirk into an amused smirk. His eyes glint with both surprise and intrigue as he leans slightly closer. “Is that right?” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave.

Jack’s laugh subsides into a low chuckle, and he shakes his head, clearly entertained. “Well, she doesn’t beat around the bush,” he says, reclining further into the couch with an easy confidence. “Guess you’ve got your work cut out for you, little brother.”

Luke’s gaze flickers briefly to Jack, a hint of competitiveness in his expression, before returning to you. “I think I can handle it,” he says, his voice steady but laced with playful challenge. His hands slide from your face to your hips, steadying you as he takes a slow step back toward the couch.  The weight of Luke’s hands on your hips is grounding, and the anticipation coursing through you feels electric.

Luke sits down, his broad frame sinking into the cushions as he watches you with a mix of curiosity and confidence. His legs part slightly, and he pats one of his thighs, the smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, then. Show me what you’ve got.”

Jack whistles low, clearly enjoying the shift in dynamic. “This should be good,” he says, but there’s no malice in his tone—just a genuine appreciation for the moment unfolding.

You step closer to Luke, your pulse quickening as his hands find your waist again. He steadies you as you move to straddle one of his thighs, the firmness of his muscle beneath you sending a thrill through your body. Luke’s hands remain on your hips, guiding you gently but firmly as you settle in.

“Comfortable?” he asks, his voice softer now, the teasing edge giving way to something more genuine.

“Very,” you reply, your breath hitching as you shift slightly against him. The friction is tantalising, and you bite your lip, meeting his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his expression a mix of concentration and curiosity as he watches you move.

Jack’s voice cuts through the tension, smooth and teasing. “Don’t go easy on him, baby.” He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he observes, his presence adding another layer of heat to the moment.

Luke exhales a shaky breath, his hands tightening on your hips as you grind against him, the flimsy material of your pyjama shorts bunching up around your hips as you move. “You’re... full of surprises,” he mutters, his voice tinged with a mixture of awe and amusement.

You lean forward, your hands resting on his shoulders as you press your lips to his ear. “And the nights just getting started,” you whisper, your voice low and teasing.

Luke’s breath catches, and his grip on you steadies. Luke exhales deeply, his hands firming on your hips as if to anchor himself in the moment. His thigh shifts slightly beneath you, and the subtle motion sends a jolt of pleasure through your body. His gaze locks with yours, his expression softening into something more intimate, more vulnerable.

“Just getting started, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a mixture of teasing and wonder. His hands slide from your hips to your waist, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of your shirt. “Guess I better keep up.”

From the couch, Jack’s low chuckle breaks the silence. “You’re doing fine so far, Luke. But I wouldn’t get too comfortable. She’s got high standards.” His tone is light, but the warmth in his voice is unmistakable.

You glance over your shoulder at Jack, his relaxed posture contrasting with the heat in his eyes as he watches you and Luke. The weight of his gaze sends another thrill through you, and you turn back to Luke, emboldened. Your hands slide up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as you lean in closer.

“I don’t think he’ll disappoint,” you murmur, your lips hovering just over his. Luke’s breath hitches again - a part of him still in disbelief that his brothers girlfriend is currently on top of him -  his grip on your waist tightening as he closes the gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s more confident now, more consuming.

You let out a soft moan against his lips as you feel Luke’s thigh tense below you, his muscles hard and rigid beneath you as he pushes you further down onto his leg - a part of you glad for your choice to go commando in your pyjamas tonight - your clit rubbing deliciously against the rough fabric of his sweatpants. 

“Fuck, Luke.” You hiss as his lips leave yours, pressing soft kisses against your neck as you throw your head back, his hands smoothing up from your hands until they slip under your hoodie, your bearskin breaking out in goosebumps as he stops just under the curve of your breasts. He finds the junction of your jaw sucking sharply as your hips start to falter on his hips. 

“She’s close.” Jack notes, sounding nothing more then a curious spectator as he watches - You can feel Luke smile against your neck as he lifts his thumbs, to graze over your nipples - the ever so soft stimulation pushing you over the edge, as your teeth sink into your lip - your eyes slamming shut as you let out a whispered whine as your orgasm rushes over you. 

Your body trembles against Luke’s, the aftermath of your release leaving you breathless and lightheaded. Luke’s hands steady you, his touch firm but comforting as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. There’s a softness in his expression now, a quiet awe that contrasts with the intensity of moments before.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his voice low and tinged with concern.

You nod, a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips. “More than okay,” you murmur, your voice still a little unsteady.

Jack leans back against the couch, his arms stretched along the backrest, his grin equal parts smug and affectionate. “Told you she’d enjoy herself,” he says, his tone teasing but warm. “Didn’t expect you to handle it so well, though, Luke.”

Luke snorts, shaking his head as he glances over at his brother. “You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you?”

Jack shrugs, his grin widening. “Just keeping you on your toes.”

You let out a soft laugh, the playful banter between the brothers grounding you in the moment. As your breathing steadies, you shift slightly, slipping off Luke’s thigh to sit beside him. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist, pulling you close as Jack watches with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

“Well,” Jack says after a moment, his voice light but his gaze lingering on you. “That was fun.”

Your heart skips a beat at the suggestion, the weight of his words hanging in the air. You glance between the two brothers, their contrasting demeanours—Luke’s cautious curiosity and Jack’s confident mischief—only adding to the heady anticipation building between you.

“Why are you saying that like I’m even remotely finished.” Luke asks his brother, his voice soft but steady.

Jack’s grin turns wicked, his eyes glinting with playful intent. “Oh,” he says, pushing off the couch and stepping closer. He crouches in front of you, his hand brushing against your knee as his gaze locks with yours. “Well do continue.” You bite your lip, the thrill of the unknown sending a shiver through you. Luke’s hand tightens slightly on your waist, his expression serious but supportive.  Jack’s grin softens into something more genuine, and he leans forward to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, leaning back against the arm of the couch - his gaze wandering over you. 

Luke rolls his eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Go sit in front of Jack, get comfortable,” he mutters, his hand sliding down to rest on your thigh. The atmosphere between the three of you shifts once again, the room humming with an unspoken energy as the possibilities of the night stretch out before you.

You shuffle away from Luke, smiling as you slip yourself between Jack’s thighs, his arms wrapping around your torso to you back against him - his lips pressing a kiss into your hair. Luke takes a big breath before he turns towards the two of you - pulling himself onto his knees as his hands reach for the waistband on your shorts. “Do you mind?” He questions, waiting for the shake of your head before he slowly starts slipping them down your legs - your hips raising to help slip the shorts off. 

“No underwear?” Jack whispers from behind you, “Naughty, I like it.” He grins. The two of you watch Luke move, the younger boy shuffling further back on the couch  - his hand wrapping around your thighs as he pulls you down the couch with him, his body lying flat on the cushions until you line up with his mouth. 

Your lean your head back against Jacks abdomen looking up at him in surprise as he shoots your a soft grin. “Watch him, not me.” He whispers, pushing your hair away from your face, “tonight is for you, baby.” Your eyes lower back to Luke, his hands lifting your thighs till they sit comfortably over his shoulders, his hot breath teasing against you. 

“You’re so wet.” He mumbles, your pussy glistening in front of him, as he leans forwards to swipe his tongue against you. Luke lets out a low groan as the taste of your hits his tongue, his fingers digging into your thighs as his mouth latches onto you - his tongue flicking against your clit as your breath catches in your throat. 

“Oh, shit.” You curse, one hand gripping the forearm Jack has around your torso, your other hand sliding into Luke’s curls as he sucks on you - the almost silent room filling with the lewd sounds of Luke’s mouth working. Luke’s teeth graze against you as your hips buck, his fingers sliding against your slit as he gathers your moisture before teasing his fingers at the entrance of your cunt. 

“If I died right now, I’d die a happy man.” Luke jokes, as his fingers slip inside of you - your head tilting further back against your boyfriend as you let out a shaky exhale. Jack just chuckles at his brother, his hands lifting your shirt until your breasts fall free, Luke eyes darting up to his brother before dropping back down to your tight nipples. 

“Finish the job, Lukey.” Jack says, an invitation, as Luke doesn’t waste his chance to lean forwards, sucking your right nipple into his mouth - his fingers working inside of you at a steady pace, your hips bucking as he brushes the spot inside of you that you can never seem to reach on your own. 

Lukes mouth leaves your nipple, the cold air hitting your wet flesh as he moves to suck the other nipple - your back arching at the overstimulation. “Come for us, baby.” Jack whispers into your ear, Luke adding a third finger as his thumb joins to rub soft circles against your clit - your thighs fighting against Luke’s body still slipped between them, wanting desperately to slam shut. 

You know both of the brothers as smiling as you come down from your orgasm, your chest heaving as Luke leans forwards to capture your lips one more time - his kiss gentle but all consuming as he seems to eat every whine that leaves you as his fingers slow their movements. 

“Merry Christmas.” Jack says as Luke pulls his fingers from you, your cunt clenching around the emptiness as he dips them into his mouth. 

“Merry Christmas.” Luke responds, a shit eating grin on his face. 

+

+

The morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. The quiet hum of the world waking up outside was a stark contrast to the tangled intimacy of the night before. You stretched lazily, the ache in your thighs and the lingering warmth in your chest a reminder of the boundaries you’d crossed—or perhaps, dismantled entirely.

Jack was still sprawled on your mattress, his arm draped over his face, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips even in rest. You leaned over pressing a soft kiss against your boyfriend’s cheek before slipping out of bed quietly, tugging one of Jack’s oversized shirts over your head and padding softly into the kitchen. The mundane act of making coffee was grounding, the hiss of the machine and the rich aroma filling the room like a balm. You were pouring a second cup when you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you.

“Morning.” Luke’s voice was husky with sleep, his hair a disheveled mess as he leaned against the counter. His eyes met yours, a flicker of uncertainty there, but also something warmer, deeper.

“Morning,” you replied, handing him a cup. The silence stretched for a moment, comfortable but charged, until Luke broke it.

“Last night…” He trailed off, his fingers tightening around the mug. “I mean, are we… okay? Are you okay?”

You smiled softly, stepping closer to him. “I’m okay. Are you?”

He nodded, his expression lightening. “Yeah, just… trying to wrap my head around everything. It’s not every day your brother ropes you into something like this.”

Jack chose that moment to saunter into the kitchen, shirtless and unapologetic. “Something like what?” he teased, his grin wide and shameless as he grabbed the mug you’d prepared for him. “Don’t tell me you’re already overthinking it, Luke.”

Luke shot him a glare, but there was no real venom behind it. “I’m not overthinking it. Just… processing.”

Jack’s gaze softened slightly, though his smirk remained. “Good. Processing is fine. But let’s not turn this into something weird, alright? Last night happened because we all wanted it to. Nobody was coerced, nobody’s regretting anything.” He glanced at you, his tone turning more serious. “Right?”

You shook your head. “No regrets.”

Luke exhaled a quiet laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Okay, no regrets.” He agrees, his gaze trained on you as you turn to greet his older brother, Jack pulling you in for a long kiss, your bodies swaying together as you let out a light laugh - Luke just watches,  his arms tingling with the phantom wish of being able to hold you the way his brother does. 

“So what’s the plan for today?” Jack breaks the silence, turning you in his arms to face his younger brother, “Round two?” He teases with a laugh, both you and Luke letting out a groan at the same time. 

[coff33andb00ks]

Carlos + 7,29 if you’re still taking reqs 🫣✨

"Well, this went horribly wrong..."/"Where did you get the flowers from?"

driver + number = drabble <3

warnings: charles gives stupid advice

ok I might maybe kinda sorta like writing for Carlos but 🤫 also definitely maybe have ideas to turn this into a longfic

In your first week with Ferrari, he was the second person you met. He was walking out as you were walking in, but he stopped to greet you and introduce himself.

In your second week with Ferrari, he was the third person you saw after getting to the motorhome. By then he knew your name and though he didn't seem excited to see you, he wasn't rude.

In your third week with Ferrari, your crush developed.

It was over the smallest, stupidest thing, which only made it worse. If anyone had told you that you'd be giggling and blushing because a man called you sunshine, you would have said they were insane and launched into all the reasons you didn't need a man to lift your spirits.

But there you were, cheeks warm and giggling behind your hand as Carlos smiled at you.

You've learned that he loves to make people laugh. Yes he's serious when he needs to be but he seems to thrive when there's laughter, when the people around him are happy.

After that he's casually called you mi sol, to the point that Charles has started to notice. Which only makes it a million times worse. Because Charles, when he's not yapping about his dog and his girlfriend, likes to interfere.

"You and Carlos get along," he says as you walk together to the garage. You've been with Ferrari for almost four months now, and Charles has become, kind of, a friend.

"Carlos gets along with everyone?" You're trying your best to act calm but when Charles laughs softly you know he can see your cheeks turning pink.

"Ah, I don't remember him calling me his sunshine," he sighs wistfully.

"You're too gloomy for that nickname," you say without thinking. Clapping a hand over your mouth, you wonder when you began to feel comfortable enough around Charles to say such a thing.

But he isn't insulted, he only laughs again. "If you want him to finally ask you out, make him jealous."

That stops you in your tracks. "Excuse me?"

Charles stops a few steps ahead and turns around. "Make him jealous."

"What makes you think I want him to ask me–"

He glances behind you, smiling. "Ah, Carlos!"

You squeak, whipping your head around to look behind yourself. When you do, Charles laughs again, and you turn back to see him smirking. "You're horrible."

"You like him," he teases.

Rolling your eyes, you continue walking. "What are you, twelve?!"

He hounds you all the way to the garage, and finally, if only to shut him up, you agree to try his idea of making Carlos jealous.

"This is so not gonna work," you mutter under your breath as you enter the hotel that evening, a bouquet of flowers clutched in your hand.

Charles's idea is "perfect" - perfectly stupid.

"Just tell him they're from an admirer."

As if Carlos will care. As if he's going to see you holding flowers and say–

"Ah, mi sol."

You blink and realize Carlos is stepping onto the elevator with you. Smiling, you shift the flowers in your grasp. "Hey Carlos."

He looks at you, then at the flowers, then takes out his phone.

You're so going to take the most unflattering pictures of Charles tomorrow.

"Where did you get the flowers from?" Carlos asks after ten seconds of silence.

"Oh! I, um." You swallow. "They're from, uh... I got them."

If there's a higher power, you pray that it'll take you from this earthly hell right now. Carlos is looking at you as if trying to decipher what you said, and the elevator is going up, and you're unfortunately not dreaming.

"I see that you got them." He puts his phone away, his brow furrowing a little. "Are you going on a date?"

"God no," you laugh weakly. And now you know you'll never be the femme fatale you wish you could be. You're doomed to spend your life as the awkward, dorky loser girl. Unable to meet his eyes, you sigh. "Well, this went horribly wrong..."

"What?" Carlos looks even more confused.

"I should never have listened to him. Of all the stupid ideas. It's like out of a bad movie isn't it? Get yourself flowers it'll make him jealous and then he'll make a move. I can't believe I actually did it, that I actually let myself think he was right–"

"Mi sol."

You groan. "I'm sorry."

"I'm confused," he says. "Who were you listening to?"

"Charles," you mumble.

And to add to your embarrassment, Carlos begins to laugh. He's still laughing when the elevator stops and the doors open.

"It's not that funny," you say.

"I'm sorry, mi sol," he says between giggles. He's giggling and it's as cute as it is mortifying. "Who are you trying to make jealous?"

"You," you blurt without thinking as you step off the elevator. You can't look at him, can't imagine what his expression is, but can hear his laughter die immediately as you walk quickly to your room. You're almost at the door when a large hand gently grasps your shoulder. You know it's him and want the floor to open up and swallow you as he turns you to face him.

"Me?" Carlos asks softly. When you nod, his eyes soften and you're staring into your morning espresso. "Why would you want to make me jealous, mi sol?"

"I don't, I..." You slowly breathe in, only for the air to leave in a shaky gasp as his hand lifts to sweep your hair from your cheek. "I want you to like me."

A smile that could melt Antarctica. "I have since the moment I first saw you."

[mins-fins]

hold me tight

&&. yes it took you a good couple of years, but it's nothing making out in a pool can't fix!

pairing: na jaemin x gn!reader

genre: fluff, sorta kinda sorta suggestive

warnings: kissing (is that a warning?)

word count: 1.4k

notes: this is a snippet from a longer form thing that i have given up on, but anyway, who else loves na jaemin?? if we ignore the fact that i only learned how to swim like one week ago….. i really like pools now that im not almost drowning every few business minutes 😁 i also really like na jaemin, and my last nana work was angst so i have to make it up to you all ⭐️ also, sort of kissing writing practice, it's terrible, don't focus on it pls xoxo

your arms are crossed as you slide the glass door open.

"jaemin".

"hm?"

you sigh, a heavy breath leaving your lips. he giggles, escaping your scathing stare by diving under the water. your corresponding groan gives him yet another thing to smile about, even when he's attempting to hide from you in chenle's pool. "how the fuck are you swimming at eleven pm?"

when jaemin rises again, he snickers, somehow able to keep his composure after almost inhaling a bunch of chlorine. "it's fun, y/n, why do you nag me so much?"

"i'm not nagging, i just need to make sure you don't get hypothermia".

he pouts like a child being punished. "your boring y/n" he sings, smile still tugging at his lips as he lays on his back, basking in the water that keeps him afloat.

you again sigh, rolling your eyes as you sit down at the edge of the pool, legs crossed. "and you act like a child, jaemin".

though he would usually feign offense at such words, it seems a switch flips in his head, and he swims his way over to you, leaning his arms against the ground you sit on. "you love me, though".

you chuckle, now that's amusing. "do i?"

jaemin hums, nodding, smile unmoving as traces shapes into your leg. "you do, that's why you aren't snitching on me to chenle".

you scrunch your nose at the feeling of his wet finger on your body. "what are you gonna do if i don't follow that?"

"strangle you, maybe".

the threat is said with such certainty that you laugh, because there's a hidden sense of playfulness behind the warning. "you can't strangle me, you need me".

he scoffs, pinching your knee and chuckling at the yelp he receives. "you sound like jeno".

"is that an insult?"

"you two are just as desperate as each other, so.. yeah!"

your eye roll is stuck to you at this point, maybe you simply expect such words from your best friend, because it doesn't exactly furrow your eyebrows as much as it makes you giggle. you slap jaemin's hand away from your leg, childishly sticking out your tongue at him. "your a bastard".

"i'm being honest, come in with me?"

now it's your turn to scoff, listening to the rhythmic whistles and silent splashes of water. "no, you're crazy".

"oh come on! you aren't leaving me to entertain myself alone, are you?"

"i can entertain you while being dry".

he narrows his eyes, arms crossing over his chest underwater. "you are boring".

you click your tongue; "how sad".

"y/n!" he's quick to whine. "how are you going to come out here to nag me then not get in the water?"

"well i didn't come out here to swim".

"then you should leave".

he pouts again, and you sigh again. it's always like this with na jaemin isn't it?

you roll your eyes as he starts staring at you with that look. "okay fine, i'm sorr— AHH!"

your statement is suddenly cut off when he uses his superhuman strength to pull you down from your place, and you fall face first into the pool with a huge splash.

when you finally come to, jaemin only stares at you with that same shit eating grin. "oh you assho—"

"hey! you can't punch me in chenle's pool!"

"and whose gonna stop me?"

you yelp again when he splashes water in your direction, just barely closing your eyes in enough time to avoid the water attempting to enter them. "you think your sooooo funny huh?"

"hilarious, even".

you grimace, shaking your head aggressively back and forth in an attempt to get some of the water out of your hair. "fuck you".

jaemin frowns again, but he can barely hold in his snicker, and now it's your turn to cross your arms underwater. he moves his hair strands out of his face, staring at you for a weirdly long time. "i mean.. you look pretty like this".

you deadpan, cheeks just barely flaring up at the words. he says it all the time, y/n, it's not weird..

but na jaemin himself is weird, so you shouldn't be thinking all that into it.

"are you flattering me so i don't murder you?"

he snickers, looking down, seemingly as nervous about it as you are. "oh so i'm not allowed to compliment you now?"

"you're a weirdo, i always have to question what you do".

jaemin gasps loudly, clear offense in his tone, you can barely hide your smile as you see his reaction. maybe it's a bit strange how his eyes linger on your smile, but what can he say? it's pretty, he needs to make you laugh again.

"y/n".

you blink, staring at your best friend with eyes full of desire. did the outside air just turn up in temperature? it can not be this hot in early march. "yes?"

he hesitates for a moment, as if contemplating his words, which is probably the strongest sight to ever meet your eyes, because when na jaemin wants to say something, he says it. you sometimes forget he even has a thought process with how abrupt he is.

"can i kiss you?"

maybe it's the way it falls from his lips so naturally, or maybe it's the way his lips press together, they do look particularly soft, his constant use of lip balm clearly paying off.

you stare, the air getting significantly hotter, the water should be combatting that, right? your super attractive best friend who you totally harbor no romantic feelings towards just asked for permission to kiss you.

you chuckle. "in chenle's pool? really?"

your stalling, trying to correctly collect your word as your wondrous, beautiful best friend, na jaemin himself, stares at you like you're the only person in the world. has his gaze always been that heavy? when did your hands begin getting so clammy? what if you simply trust fall back into the water and drown? maybe it would be easier to avoid the awkwardness of this situation then..

"hey, when you have a chance you take it".

you laugh again, he really is something. you don't say more, simply pull him forward by his shoulder, finger itching to trace the skin of his bare chest. not before the kiss y/n, have some composure.

jaemin traces his fingers over the line of your jaw, and he pulls you in. his other hand slides down to your right hip, drawing a small squeak from you as your hands move up to his hair.

he wants to savor the moment, take a picture of it and hang it on his wall, there's a certain hunger in the way he groans against your lips, thumbs caressing the sides of your cheek. your arms are quick to wrap around his neck, still feeling the hairs on the back of his neck.

"you're so eager".

"you're the one who asked" you breath, gritting your teeth. "and besides—" you lean forward to take his lips again, the heat of his body transferring to yours. "—you wanted this as much as me didn't you?"

your desperation is quick to manifest, it manifests in the way you exhale sighs and whines, it's just something with na jaemin.

you two slowly.. swim(?) backward, your back hitting the surface of the pool wall. "oh chenle is going to kill us".

jaemin snickers. "why? it's not like were fucking in the pool".

you stare at him incredulously, of course he had to bring that up out of all things, but your face still heats up, and his lips turn up. "oh? do you want to fuck in the pool?"

"no you— pervert! we are not going to fuck in the pool!"

"okay okay, it was just a suggestion" he rolls his eyes, squeezing your hip.

you scrunch your nose, splashing water in his direction. "hey, let's just make this easy, go out with me?"

your jaw almost drops. is this man really serious?

"are you really asking me out in chenle's pool?"

"not as romantic as i wanted it to be but.. it works".

you would punch that smile off na jaemin's face if he wasn't absolutely adorable, oh, and you also really enjoy kissing him down. "okay stupid, but make it a good first date".

"i always keep my promises!"

and if you kiss him again? well that's no one else's business.

[joyful-writings]

❀ sugar 'n' spice

sim jaeyun/park jongseong x fem!reader

word count: 1,172 synopsis: threesome w hard dom!jay and soft dom!jake (pwp, who's surprised) warnings: SMUT (🔞MINORS DNI🔞), cunnilingus and fingering suggested (it's implied but not described), pussy slapping (very miniscule detail but it still happens), mentioned rough sex (minor description + softdom!jake gets a little rough? sorta?? it isn't very detailed anyway), p-in-v (protection not mentioned but wrap it up, don't be stupid!!!), fellatio and cum-eating (kinda?), jay calls reader "slut" "whore" and "bitch", (non-sexual) tension and some arguing between jay and jake a/n: i've never really written threesome smut, so, like... good luck. it's more focused on jay and jake then the reader, and i don't know if anything in this really makes any sense. i just needed to try and get this out of my head because my brainrot is going brrr

"Keep her legs open."

"I'm trying."

Jake's grip on your thighs tightened, trying to pull them apart while Jay aided him, pushing as his fingers dug into your plush skin. You whined and writhed in Jake's hold, hips twisting in his lap as you tried to deter Jay from stimulating your core any more than he already has.

It's been nearly forty minutes now, and Jay's made you cum from his tongue and fingers three times. Jake's been forced to wait his turn, cock straining almost painfully as you relentlessly squirmed in his lap, unintentionally teasing him.

"Hold her still!" Jay barked another order at his friend.

"I'm fucking trying!" Jake spat back.

Frustrated and impatient, Jay slapped your pussy, two loud claps ringing through the bedroom. Your body jolted and you let out a sharp cry, yet you finally gave in. Spreading your legs obediently, you leaned back into Jake's chest.

Jay shot a sharp look at Jake, scoffing before lowering his face toward your core, "Was that really so hard for you to do?"

Jake just rolled his eyes. This is how it always was.

Jay was typically rough with you. He'd overstimulate you for his own delight, loving how you struggled to maintain some sort of dignity before throwing it all away with your release. He'd test your limits by choking you and splitting you open on his dick with barely any prep. He was never too extreme, though. He didn't want to hurt you, only seeking to pleasure you— as well as himself —at the end of everything. Plus, Jake would never allow him to push you too far.

Jake was the opposite of Jay. If Jay was the spice, then Jake was the sugar. He loved to pamper and praise you, to take his time as he appreciated every centimeter of your body. His touches were always soothing caresses, his strokes were slow and steady as he put your needs ahead of his. He never forced you to take more than he knew you could handle.

Listening to you helplessly begging and pleading with Jay now, Jake couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing your thighs tight again, he lifted your hips away from Jay's mouth. Free from stimulation, you took a moment to catch your breath, lolling your head back tiredly. Jay, on the other hand, glared up at Jake, tensions rising between them. "What the fuck?"

"You're fucking torturing her." Jake held you close, wrapping an arm around your middle. "I'm gonna give her what she needs, then we'll be done."

"Maybe you'll be done," Jay huffed. He sat up, sitting on his knees to appear just a bit bigger. "I know she can take more— she's just a little slut, Jake. Why don't you ever treat her like one?"

"Because I'm not a sadistic asshole..."

Sliding out from behind you, Jake laid you down on the bed, ensuring there was a pillow under your head. He stood and stripped himself of his final clothing items— a pair of boxers, presumably ruined by precum —before hovering over you. With one hand on your cheek, caressing the soft skin, his other hand aligned his tip with your entrance. Jake kissed you sweetly as he pushed in, making you moan against his lips.

Jay watched you both from the end of the bed with disinterest. "So pathetic..." 

However, he had to admit, something about the way you gazed at Jake so adoringly made his desire for you stir in his lower stomach. He couldn't help himself from stepping toward the edge of the bed, pelvis level with your head. Grabbing your jaw, Jay turned your head toward him, stealing your attention from Jake. Your eyes widened at the sight of Jay's cock right in front of your face.

"Open."

You quickly obliged, mouth falling open and tongue rolling out. You tried inching your face closer to Jay's length but could only move so far, barely flicking your tongue across his cockhead. Jake gazed at you, almost dumbfounded, wondering how you could be so desperate despite being so worn and sensitive. It made his thrusts a bit harsher, his breathing heavier while he watched Jay rut himself into your mouth.

Jay gripped the hair at the back of your head, forcing your mouth up and down his cock at a bruising speed. You could barely breathe, continuously gagging around him, drooling from the corner of your mouth. Being used by him made you clench around Jake, tearing a groan from the former's throat.

"She squeezin' you?" Jay smirked upon seeing Jake's scrunched-up face. "Bet she is, bet her pussy's squeezin' you so tight... Little bitch loves being used like a whore."

Jake ignored Jay's taunts, losing himself in pleasure as he pistoned in and out of your tight cunt. He didn't even notice his grasp on your waist tightening, sure to leave dark fingerprints, stubby nails trying to dig into the flesh. It made you moan around Jay's dick, Jay grunting in turn.

"Fuck her harder."

Jake looked up at Jay, dazed. "What? No."

"Quit being scared." Jay glanced at Jake for only a moment, primarily focused on the way your mouth took him in. "Fuck her good. Make her cum, Jake. Can't you do that?"

Now, Jake was irritated. And that irritation was released unto you, Jake taking your legs and hoisting them up to his shoulders, hugging them against his body as he started slamming into you— quite literally. The sound of his hips roughly hitting yours overtook every other sound within the room. You clawed at the bedsheets beneath you from Jake's newfound pace, crying around Jay's length and making his thrusts stutter.

"Shit..." Jay brought both hands to the back of your head, forcing himself down your throat as he came with a low moan. Gradually pulling back, his warm, thick cum flooded your tastebuds, coating your mouth.

Before you could swallow, Jay pulled out and turned your head to face Jake. "Open up and show him what you've got in there."

Looking up at Jake with a teary gaze, you opened your mouth as told. Jake took one look before his eyes rolled back, burying himself deep in your core. He didn't even realize he was so close to the edge, but seeing you like that shoved him over it, moaning and whining shamelessly as he came in your cunt.

"You gave her what she needs, like you said. You done?"

Jake furrowed his brow for a second, looking back at Jay with a small glare. Though, he wasn't upset with Jay necessarily— he was ashamed of himself for craving more. When Jake shook his head, Jay smirked. Refocusing on you, he grabbed your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks. "Seems like you're in for a long night... But you'll be a good slut for us, won't you?"

Jay tapped his fingers against your cheek, hand sliding down to the base of your throat after. Jake merely watched, feeling himself getting hard all over again.

a/n: uhhh happy sunghoon day???? i know this isn't a sunghoon fic, but i am writing for him as we speak! i still wanted to post something in the meantime, and i've been plagued with the unholiest of thoughts recently, so here we are

✿ partially inspired by jungwon saying jake's sweet and jay's venom in their sweet venom studio choom behind

[dreamy-demons]

Where Did You Sleep Last Night?

Pairing: Charles Lee Ray x Female Reader

CW: rough sex, rough oral (male receiving), orgasm denial, cheating, degrading, lots of insults, bad dom etiquette, slut shaming, kinda sorta dubcon(??? Could be read that way), overall very toxic relationship lol

Summary: Reader ditches Charles on a night out and hooks up with a stranger. This is the aftermath.

Word count: ~2000

He's the first thing you see when you walk through the door.

It's 3am and he sits illuminated only by the table lamp, casting harsh shadows across his face. He stands and slinks toward you and you try to swallow the fear that shoots through you.

"Where the fuck did you go last night?"

Eyes down, you try to push past him. He pulls you back.

"Oh no you're not walking away from me again. You bailed on me, I think I deserve to know where you went."

“I had to get some air, okay? I got some food and stayed at a friend's house. Not that I owe you an explanation.”

Charles had been a prick at the bar last night. You were sick of him flirting with other women and thought it would be fun seeing the look on his face when you gave him a taste of his own medicine. seeing him now, you realise it was not the case.

“Awww you needed to get some air?” He scoffs, “Is that what they're calling fucking some random prick from a bar these days? If you're going to play smart with me you can fuck off and sleep on the streets. I can find another whore like you on any corner of the city.”

"Do you want me to beg, is that what you want? Oh, please, Chucky, how could I ever make it up to you." Anger momentarily cuts through your fear, and you sink down to your knees, hands up in mock prayer.

"You've got to be shitting me." He groans, rolling his eyes. "Get up, you're embarrassing yourself…"

His words trail off as he looks down at you, so fragile beneath him. When his eyes meet yours something stirs within them. A hand grasps your chin and his eyes bore into you. Your heart skips a beat.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do?" You place a hand on his thigh.

"Let's see… You be a good girl and get me off real good tonight, and then maybe I'll forgive you. Okay? Maybe. How's that sound?" You quickly nod, sliding your hand further up his thigh until your hand ghosts over his dick. You feel his body tense.

"Shit, you're eager." He laughs pulling you up from the ground and dragging you across to the couch. Leaning back, he shoves you to your knees between his legs.

You make quick work freeing him from his pants. Spitting on your hand, you give him a few languid strokes before taking him into your mouth.

"God, that pretty fucking mouth of yours." He groans, possessive fingers grasping your hair. You work at his cock, taking him in deep, exploring him with your tongue. Charles is holding your hair so tightly it hurts, and you have no choice but to keep eye contact with him to alleviate the pain. His eyes bore into you, frenzied.

"Did you suck his dick like this too, babe?"

You whimper around him, not answering his question. He pushes your head down to the hilt, nose to his pelvis.

"I asked you a fucking question."

You struggle to let out an "mmhmm" as you nod. He pulls you off, spit dripping down your chin, and leans in close.

"You dirty fucking whore." He tuts. "This is the only cock you'll ever need, ya hear me? Because you seem to have forgotten that."

You're still gasping for air, but he pulls you back onto him.

"By the end of tonight babe, I promise you, you will never forget again."

He uses you like a toy, rutting into your throat, and all you can do is try not to choke and keep your aching jaw slack. Your eyes water with every thrust, leaving streaks of mascara running down your face. A thumb comes up to swipe away your tears, and if you didn’t know him better you’d almost be mistaken in thinking this was a sweet gesture. His eyes darken and his movements become erratic.

"That's. Right. Bitch. Cry. For. Me." He grunts out between thrusts. It’s not long before he spills deep into your throat. Charles pulls your head off him, and you make sure to keep eye contact while you swallow every drop.

He brings you up into his lap. You snuggle into his chest and he pets your hair. You relax, knowing you've satisfied him. He's forgiven you. Everything is okay and… wait. Why is he petting your hair? He sucks at aftercare. Fat chance he'd ever be petting you like this after the fight you just had. You pull back and he's grinning down at you, eyes dark.

"Oh you- you really thought" he can't get through his sentence without laughing. "Come on, did ya really think I would let you off that easily? Cause you really fucked me over back there, doll."

"I'm sorry Chuck, really. I'll be a good girl from now on."

"You think you've learned your lesson already?"

You nod, with the best innocent face you can give him.

"Yeahhh, I'm just not convinced. You need to be punished. And you know what?"

A hand slides between you, fingertips brushing past your stomach causing goosebumps all over your body. Your breath hitches when he slips under your skirt.

"I think you want to be punished."

You blush, averting your gaze.

"Look at how wet you are! I just had you choking on my dick til you couldn't breathe and you're getting off on it. You really are a whore." Two fingers slide into your hole, and he wastes no time finding that spot inside of you that makes you mewl. His thumb makes languid circles on your swollen clit, while he slowly pumps his fingers into you.

"More Chucky, please." You moan.

"More? You want more?"

"Please. I need it." You plead. It's nowhere near enough stimulation to get you close and it's driving you crazy. Instead of speeding up, he stops his movements entirely.

"Sorry doll, I don't think you deserve more right now."

You grip his shirt, whimpering. Your hips grind on their own desperately wanting him to start moving again.

"Stop fucking squirming." He growls, and you will yourself to stop. "Tell me again. What do you want?"

"I want more, Chucky. I love the way you feel inside of me, I want to cum on your fingers. I need it."

His fingers start to resume their motions, back at the same teasing pace.

"Ya know, I think I'm liking taking my time here." He grins.

Against all your better judgement you try again to move your hips, and you're met with a look that sends ice shooting down your spine.

Before you have time to react his hands are around your throat. You try to squeak out an apology but his grip is too tight. Your heart is beating so hard it feels like it's going to burst out your chest. Your life is completely in his hands. 'He could really do it right now.' You think to yourself, 'It was only a matter of time. Why did I ever think I was any different than all the people he killed?'

You pull at his wrists trying to pry him off you, pleading with your eyes. But he's stronger than you. And he's enjoying this far too much

"I already told you once to stop fucking squirming. You better think real hard before you try doing that again."

Finally he lets you go and you collapse against him. The air burns your lungs as you suck in big gulps.

"What do we say?"

"Thank you. Thank you so much Chucky, it'll never happen again I promise." God, how much more pathetic could you get?

"That was so fucking hot, my dick's already hard again. How are we gonna fix this now?"

Bastard. Of course he got off on that.

"Fuck me, please, I need it. I want to make you feel good. I'll do anything."

He finds his way back to your pussy and pumps quickly, fingers curling into you.

"Let's get this cunt nice and wet." He says, as if you weren't already more wet than you'd ever been.

"And don't even think about cumming without my permission, got that?"

His thumb on your clit moves in exactly the right way, tight circles that send shocks through your entire body. You rest your head on his chest, unable to do anything but let the pleasure wash over you. Your walls flutter around him as he rubs against the right spots with each thrust.

"God, I'm so close! Please, please can I cum now?" You're sure you've dripped all over his lap by this point. You don't think you can hold back for much longer. You're right there you just need- NO!

That asshole! He stopped. Again. The strangled cry of frustration you let out sends him into a laughing fit.

"Sorry babe, want you cumming on my dick tonight. That's kinda the whole point of this lesson. Hands and knees. Now."

You scramble off his lap and get on all fours. Chucky flips up your skirt and smears the wetness from his fingers all over your ass.

You feel his head nudge at you, but instead of entering, he slides through your folds, causing frustrated curses to fall from your lips.

"You look so fucking gorgeous like this." He groans, "This is where you belong. Spread open, dripping, desperate for my cock."

He keeps dragging through your folds, enjoying the way you twitch when he grazes your clit. Then, without warning, he sheaths himself into you in one smooth stroke. Both of you let out a groan as he holds himself deep within you, the feeling of being so full leaving you momentarily breathless. When he starts thrusting his movements are rough, hips slamming against your ass.

"You wouldn't even know what to do without me, you know that, doll? Nobody else fucks you the way I do.”

A stroke hits you in a way that makes you yelp. He takes notice, adjusting his angle so that every thrust nudges the bundle of nerves inside you.

“Nobody else is going to satisfy this needy pussy, and you'll come crawling back here begging for me."

You never understand why it turned you on to hear him talk like this, but he was right. You loved him having power over you. Your little hookup earlier that night had completely paled in comparison to what Charles was doing to you now. You hadn't even come close to cumming with that guy.

Even without him touching your clit, you can already feel your climax approaching. You feel his weight press down on you as he leans to whisper in your ear.

“Fuck, baby. I want to fill up this sweet cunt.”

“Can I cum now?” You whine, tears pricking at your eyes. Please Chucky, I'm so close. I'm yours, baby, please. Let me cum with you.”

Charles lets out a pleased groan and his fingers find their way back to your clit. It only takes a few swipes for you to cum with a strangled cry, arms giving out beneath you. The spasms of your soft walls are enough to send Charles over the edge and you feel the warmth of his seed spread within you.

“That's it Doll, take it all. Good slut.” He rides out his orgasm and then pulls out, slapping you on the ass.

After catching your breath you sit up to find him lounging back, already reaching for a cigarette. Typical. You throw your arms around his waist and lay against his chest.

“I saw you leave with him, that little fucking prick.” He lights his smoke and takes a drag. “I followed you back to his shitty excuse for a home. I know where he lives”

You look up at him, pouting.

“It wasn't his fault, Charles. Can't we leave him out of this?”

He lets out a chuckle and shrugs you off of him.

“Don't play innocent now, sweetheart,” he says, pulling his pants back on. “I know you'd love to tear him apart just as much as I would.”

At that, you flash him a sheepish grin.

“Hurry up and get dressed. You've learnt your lesson. Class is in session for your little friend.”

[deviousdeliciousness]

Just a Taste

borderline(?) NSFW (but no smut); TWs for soft vore, non/con touching, mouthplay (kinda sorta)

Teeny boi gets caught by a giant that just wants a lil' taste~

~~~~~~~~

"You're so cute," the giant whispered, lips tilting up as their cupped palms raised and brought Kai closer to their face.

Kai withheld a grimace, pushing further against the fingers nearly as long as he was tall at his back. This wasn't the worst reaction he could've come across after being caught by a giant, but that didn't mean he had to like it, either.

"Cute enough to eat," the giant murmured, hushed and reverent, and Kai froze, his eyes promptly blowing wide as he gaped in dumbstruck horror at the giant.

Oh fuck no. He'd been wrong. He'd been so, so wrong.

He hadn't thought - hadn't even dared to consider - that this was one of those giants. The ones that thought tinies were nothing but a quick snack - not even a meal.

As if to seal the deal, the giant licked their lips, tongue dampening the plush skin there.

Frantically, Kai looked back over the edge of the giant's hands, but he was met with the same sight as before: a fall he wouldn't be able to survive. At least, not one he'd able to make while still being in any condition to escape afterwards.

Maybe jumping would give him a better fate than what this giant obviously had planned for him, though.

Unfortunately, he wasn't given the chance to decide on his own. As if they'd read his thoughts, the giant's thumb swept around and pressed over Kai's waist like a solid steel band, keeping him pinned to the fingers behind him no matter how much he writhed and squirmed.

In front of him, the giant's face approached, their eyes almost seeming to glow in anticipation, their pupils blown so only a thin sliver of their irises remained.

"Wait-wait-wait-wait, nonono, c'mon," Kai begged, shaking his head frantically and kicking his legs out at nothing.

The giant only smiled softly at him, eyes falling half-lidded, and Kai squeezed his own eyes shut with a whimper as huge, warm lips pressed against his exposed abdomen from where the giant's thumb had rucked up his shirt to his chest.

Something - a nose - brushed against the side of his head, exhaling warm air over his shoulder and making goosebumps rise against his skin.

He kept himself as stiff as a board, jaw taut, even as he genuinely began to shake with tension from holding himself so rigidly, spots dancing across his eyelids with how hard he had them clenched shut.

He shivered as he felt the giant's lips part just the faintest bit against his skin, hot air ghosting against his stomach and making the muscles there clench.

A breathy laugh made the lips against his skin practically vibrate, causing him to gasp out in startled shock, his eyes snapping open just in time for the tip of the giant's tongue to dip between the seam of their lips and brush against his taut stomach.

His hands snapped forward before he even fully processed what'd happened, and he pushed with all his strength against the giant's upper lip, his hands sinking into the plush skin as his squirming picked back up with a renewed desperation.

"Please - please don't," he pleaded, tipping his chin up high both to get rid of the sight of the giant's mouth against his vulnerable torso as well as to try to desperately meet their eye.

A single eye, because there was no way Kai could meet both with how terrifyingly close the giant was to him.

A huge, clear blue eye - easily bigger than Kai's whole head was - met his frantic gaze, and it curved into a crescent that corresponded with the smile that had no right to feel as menacing as it did as it pressed the blunt edges of teeth against his bare skin.

"I - I'll do anything, just don't-" he cut himself off, unable to give voice to his impending fate, and he swallowed hard around the sudden lump in his throat, desperately blinking back the sudden sting in his eyes. He didn't want this. He didn't - he didn't know what he could've done to deserve this kind of end.

Strangely, the giant's gaze actually seemed to soften, but Kai ruthlessly shoved down the burgeoning hope it brought him. The being hadn't moved away from him, hadn't given him any actual sign of taking his words into consideration just yet.

Sure enough, when they next spoke, their words were a simple, meaningless placation.

"Shhh, it's alright," they crooned against his skin, their eyes somehow managing to dilate even further and going hazy with pleasure as their tongue came back to tease at Kai's trembling stomach.

Kai couldn't even bring himself to feel ashamed at the quiet, desperate whine that slipped free from his throat, and he pushed harder against the giant's lip, turning his head to the side to futilely look away from what was happening. As if not seeing it would make it any less real.

A second later, he gasped in shock as the giant suddenly opened their mouth wide, Kai's fingers slipping off their lip and straight into their gaping maw.

He quickly yanked his arms back towards himself, but the giant was faster, lips pursing closed around Kai's elbows as it gave a long, languorous suck to his trapped limbs. Kai's legs kicked out in a flinching spasm against the giant's chin, but it was as if they didn't even feel the action.

"N-no please-" he whimpered threadily, tugging harder, but the giant just pursed its lips even tighter, a hot tongue brushing against Kai's fingers and slicking his forearms with drool.

The giant's eyes fluttered shut, and they moaned around his limbs, thrusting their head forwards in a sudden motion that had Kai's bare arms swallowed up in their hot, cavernous mouth nearly to his shoulders. His elbows bumped against the flat, hard edges of their teeth, and he choked back a terrified cry.

Their tongue started to move around faster, more urgently, licking up his arms and almost seeming to try to get between his tiny fingers as their mouth quickly flooded with drool, making it feel like his limbs were in a slick, heated pool.

Then, somehow, they managed to dart their tongue between their lips without letting Kai tug his arms free too, and they laved a hot, wet stripe from his collarbones, across his neck, and to the underside of his chin.

He froze.

His skin tingled with the damp, rapidly cooling saliva, and his mind went fuzzy like he was in a dream.

A nightmare.

The giant's throat bobbed as they swallowed around their built-up saliva, the suction tugging hard on Kai's arms, which were then abruptly released.

The sudden liberation was so unexpected that he barely had the wherewithal to finally yank his limbs back to himself, his shivers picking up as he clutched his saliva-slick hands to his chest and stared wild-eyed and uncomprehending at the giant panting hot breaths of air against his trembling skin.

They nuzzled their nose against his cheek, and he flinched, biting back a whimper. The giant's comforting croon did little to calm him, and he instead went deathly still as a claw-tipped fingernail invaded his space and tugged at the collar of his shirt, only bare milliliters away from his vulnerable throat where his heartbeat visibly pulsed beneath his skin.

Another little tug had his shirt giving away with an audible tear, one that was only compounded as the giant leaned in and breathily, needily, husked, "More."

~~~~~~~~~

huhuhu~~~ thhoughtts? :3

[ashethecoolperson]

OUU WAIT.. can you do a dom x r where essentially they’re both in the judgement day and there tg but hide it cus they think it’ll ruin the dynamic of the group. so like HIDDEN TOUCHES, GLANCES, THE WHOLE SHEBANGHG😫

No One Will Know

A/N: This is like one of my first requests so apologies if it’s bad 😭

Dom is my favorite himbo thooo 💗

Tags: Mentions of sex, kinda sorta allusions to smut but not really, Rhea knows everything, some spanish 🤭

“Where in the hell is he?” You thought to yourself as you walked around backstage. You two had driven to the arena together, and you went to talk to Rhea for a minute, then he was just..gone.

“Dom?” You called out as you neared the dressing room. A chorus of ‘he’s not here’ rang in your ears but you continued on anyway. Dom wouldn’t just up and ditch you like this.

You walked next to a janitor’s closet when suddenly you got pulled in, pinned against the door by him.

“Did I scare you, mami?” He asked as you looked straight up at him, honestly stunned at how close his face was. His hand gently brushed away some hair from your face before moving back down to grip your waist. Your eyes darted between his eyes and lips. He smiled sweetly, but it didn’t make the butterflies in your stomach settle. He really wanted to kiss you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what this little surprise even was.

“Why were you just..hiding in the janitor’s closet?” You asked as he started peppering kisses onto your neck, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. You closed your eyes, trying desperately to calm your heartbeat. It only seemed to speed up more whenever he did that.

He finally stopped kissing you and whispered, “Just wanted to surprise you, mami.” He leaned down and pressed a light kiss into your jawline. When his lips met yours it left an overwhelming sensation behind. One that made you want to pull him closer and never let go again. His hands traveled lower on your body until they found their place around the base of your thighs, lifting you up and holding you flush against him.

While you two kissed, you both heard a knock, breaking the kiss as you two looked at each other and contemplated what to do. He smirked, “Maybe we should get going. Wouldn’t want anyone to think we snuck off or anything.” You blushed as he slowly placed you back on your feet. He reached forward to grab your hand and you intertwined your fingers with his.

The rest of the evening passed by pretty quickly, then RAW started and both you and Dom were hanging out in The Judgment Day clubhouse, waiting for your segment to start.

Dom was currently on his phone while he occasionally shot glances at you. You were looking through your Instagram feed, reading the posts about Dom’s match today.

You always enjoyed getting to see what fans were thinking of your boyfriend, your Dom. It made you feel special.

Your thoughts were interrupted by him putting an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. You looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and a smile. He returned it with a smirk of his own before he spoke, “You know how I always get sweaty after my matches?”

You nodded slowly, “Yeah…”

“Well, I could use a shower tonight so…want to join me?” He mumbled so only you could hear and gave you another smirk that made your knees weak.

You tried to play it cool as you tried comprehending what he said and why the fuck he sounded so hot saying it, before he just smirked and whispered, “Piénsalo, mami.” Before walking off.

He turned to look over his shoulder at you with one final wink before disappearing from sight.

What the fuck just happened? You thought to yourself as your mind raced to catch up with everything Dom said. You knew Dom had a dirty streak. He definitely liked to tease people, and you knew that he did that because he liked seeing them blush.

While lost in your own thoughts, Rhea approached you and tapped you on the shoulder, almost towering over you because of those big ass platform boots she always wore.

“What’d Dom say?” She asked, snapping you out of your thoughts as she looked at you expectantly. You blinked a couple times before answering. “Oh y’know, just shit about how he’d win and all that.” You lied, and Rhea raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Uh yeah. Why?” You felt stupid for lying to her. She was your best friend, sure, but that didn’t mean you could tell her everything.

“No reason, just wondering why I heard stuff in you two’s dressing room last week.” She said with a shrug, and you immediately blushed and scrambled for a reply, knowing damn well what you two were doing. After you caught your breath, you said, “Oh, uh he was just talking to me about some stuff, you know, personal stuff.” You lied, (again), and Rhea nodded with a scoff.

“Personal stuff? So why was he saying ‘oh fuck, right there mami’?” Rhea asked again, sporting a smirk as your face was flushed. She heard?! Well, shit.

“Don’t worry,” She laughed as if she sensed your panic, “I won’t tell anybody.” You let out a sigh and relaxed a bit, smiling at her. “Thanks..” You trailed off, still unsure of what else you could say without being too obvious about how embarrassing this even was.

“No problem. But don’t fuck in my dressing room, please. I like having a clean room.” You chuckled nervously and nodded, thanking her before walking towards the monitors to watch Dom’s match.

While he was doing pretty good (still paired with that fucking bobblehead, you hated that guy) he kept doing moves that made you wince or go ‘damn’, knowing full well that he’d be okay.

Obviously they lost because of JD, but Dom didn’t care as he just went over towards you, smiling as he looked down at you.

“Did I do good?” He asked, his smirk growing wider.

“Yeah, but you keep scaring me with those big ass flying moves. You’re gonna bust your face open one day cause of that.” You said as you crossed your arms, and he pouted like a child before rolling his eyes.

There was a beat of silence before you smirked, looking at him as you fiddled with those shirts he wore around his waist.

“Hey, Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m ready for that shower now..”

[aspiring-house-husband]

!! monsterfucking !! it’s sorta kinda dragon porn time !!

and other fairy tale shenanigans.

~~~

royalty doesn’t fucking make sense. 

you were pretty sure there was only one prince. there’s only been one prince this whole time! so how could it be POSSIBLE that there were two princesses brought in from far-off lands to marry to the prince? and beyond that, how is it possible that the king needs a THIRD bride??

doesn’t matter, you suppose. father, the king’s favorite shepherd, was ordered to cough up your younger sister, and like hell you were gonna let that happen. 

and then there was a witch, and some confusing advice… life could be stranger. probably. 

the ten dresses made some sense. they really added to the poof of a wedding dress, and they helped create a curve or two you didn’t have yourself. under the veil, your face was hidden- the king wouldn’t be the wiser. you’d marry off and hide it from the prince who’s last two wives weren’t good enough, for some definitely not-death reason, and your sister would be free to live her life. it’s really no trouble at all. you can’t very comfortably sit down, in the ten dresses, but uh… you’ll be fine. 

oh. uh, also, there’s a dragon. 

royalty doesn’t fucking make sense. 

you suppose there’s one more prince, and this one is a dragon. that explains the very-most-definitely-not-eaten princesses. and the witch’s advice to “tell him to shed a skin with every dress he asks you to take off.” the rope hidden under your bodice makes a bit more sense, too. 

the only question left was what she meant by “lie with him to break his curse.”

you’ll figure it out. 

all things considered, he’s not that massive. probably four of your leg lengths in circumference, hands maybe the size of your rib cage. manageable… once he’s shed ten skins to match your ten dresses. he’s looking pretty sorry for himself, tired and weak, when you stand before him with no clothing. his eyes flick up at you. 

“you’re no… no princess…” he pants out, and you lash his wrists each to the metal torch cages, spreading his arms wide and propping his back against the wall. 

“and you’re a dragon. whine about it.” you cross your arms as you take him in. with so many skins shed, his scales aren’t as sharp or dirty, and you aren’t afraid to touch him while his hands are bound. you walk along the length of his body closer to his head. 

“the witch told me how to break your curse. i think i know what she meant.” silent, he keeps his gaze on you. 

you climb onto the great dragon and straddle his body to keep your balance. as such, your cock pressed down into the cool scales, soft and ridged. you let out a soft whimper, closing your eyes and pressing your palms down to hold yourself still and stable. 

you feel a rumble beneath you, and look up at him. he’s lifted his chin slightly. 

“scoot back. just a bit.” confused but trusting him, you do as he asks, and feel something warm and slick press against your ass. you look over your shoulder, and his weeping member has jutted out proudly between his scales. somehow, you gain enough traction to lift yourself up and back down again so now his cock sits between your thighs, pressed against your core and your stomach. he’s… well, draconic. big. 

you steel your nerve and line yourself up, sinking down over him with a long moan and almost a choking feeling. he is still big, and you can feel him, surprisingly warm and pulsing inside you. your body throbs in time with him and you squeeze around him, whimpering, unmoving. 

but then there is a flash of magic, and you shut your eyes against it. he gets warmer, hotter, brighter, and you have to lift one elbow to cover your eyes. you feel him shift beneath you, but he stays inside you, and when the light is gone, you open your eyes again. 

he’s a man. he’s got slitted eyes, still, and rough scale-like skin on his collar- and cheek- bones, his rib cage. his knuckles, too, when he lifts his hands to look at them. 

“am i..?”

“your curse is broken. like the witch said.”

now having your knees pressed to the soft rug, you have far more purchase to raise your hips over him and drop down again. you catch a glimpse of fangs as he moans. it’s only one or two bounces before he sits up, pulling you to his chest to kiss you, letting you feel the scratchiness of his scales. 

“to the bed, my bride,” he growls with a smile, and you can hardly tear yourself from him. 

the king barges into the dragon’s room in the morning, expecting to see another woman dead and a dragon demanding a new bride. instead, he sees a valiant son, peacefully asleep wrapped around his favorite shepherd’s son. for his own peace of mind, he ignores the hickeys spread across both of their bare chests. 

[queenofbaws]

"i missed hearing your voice.." Jossam post game? I hope things are going alright

He told himself that he wasn't worried, that he'd pulled off crazier stunts than this without breaking a sweat. The ball was in his court, after all, and even if he didn't have the home team advantage as he parked his car and stepped out onto her driveway (salt crunching under his feet like grit from the mines), other advantages abounded: he looked pathetic, for one, bruised like an overripe summer peach; he'd had time to run his lines, for another, drafting before refining, refining before editing, editing before finalizing, finalizing before practicing, practicing, practicing.

Even now, as he carefully climbed the steps to her front door, setting a little more weight than usual against the side rail (he'd landed strangely when he'd fallen into the vent shaft, and all the kings horses and all the kings men hadn't quite been able to figure out how or why he'd managed to fuck that muscle group up in such a particular fashion), he worked through the script in his head:

Hi there, long time no see! I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd check in...I think maybe you forgot to pay your phone bill this month - the damn thing just rings and rings when I call, no answer, no voicemail, nothing. Hey, look, don't sweat it, I don't even care that you kinda-sorta blew the lodge to smithereens, that's what we've got insurance for, know what I mean? What's a little property damage between friends? Oh, quick question while I have you: You don't, ha ha ha, hee hee hee, hoo hoo hoo, I don't know, hate me, do you?

But before he could so much as knock, Sam opened the door and his oh-so-brilliant plan crumbled into so much dust.

She had that effect on him. Always had.

Why hadn't he planned for that?

There was a beat where they simply stood like that, opposite one another in a hundred separate ways, her arms folded despite being on the warmer side of the threshold, his open wide despite the cold, both of them posturing, posturing, posturing as if they could fix the problem through body language alone.

Josh wet his lips. Forgot his lines. "Hi." There. Hi there. That was what he'd practiced, that was what he'd written, that was part of the plan that would endear him to her again. It wouldn't come out, though, couldn't squeeze its way through the pinhole of his throat, not now that she was actually looking at him, not now that they were close enough for him to smell her fabric softener and see the butterfly bandage holding that cut over her eyebrow together.

He tried again, took it from the top as Dad would say...and failed just as spectacularly. "I, uh, hi."

Sam's entire body seemed to move with her breath, drawing up on the inhale, folding over on the exhale. She was tired, he saw, she was so, so tired - and all because of him. "What do you want, Josh?" she asked, the question smooth and unhalting, improvised but earnest.

He hadn't considered that. Hadn't planned on a question. He hadn't practiced any answers, hadn't drafted a line of banter that would come across as suitably apologetic while still being rakish and playful, and -

And...

And.

And, God help him, it all just came out.

"I wanted to see you," he said, the rush of blood in his ears deafening him to his own voice, filling his head with panicked radio static. "I know I'm the last person you want to see, but...you weren't answering your phone, you weren't answering your messenger, you weren't answering your email - holy shit, Sammy, I almost picked up a pencil to write you an actual hand-to-God letter, but I was worried you'd throw it in the shredder as soon as you saw my name, and there'd go my seventy-three cents of postage. In this economy, I - "

Her eyebrows went up. His stomach sank into his feet.

He tried again.

"Look, I...I know you don't want to talk to me. If I were you, I wouldn't want to talk to me either, but...but you don't have to talk. You don't have to say a word to me if you don't want, you can close the door in my face right here, right now, and I'll get it, I really will, but I just..." His throat was a desert. He swallowed hard, found his words cracking anyway. "I miss hearing your voice. I miss seeing you. I...I miss everything about you, and I know the only person to blame for that shit is me, but I don't know how to fix it, so..." Out went his arms again, a pathetic mimicry of himself, a gesture as hollow as it was familiar. "I'm open to suggestions."

Sam took another breath, her shoulders rising then falling, her gaze never flinching, and something in the shape of her mouth, the jut of her hip, convinced him that he'd been right, that she was only a second away from slamming the door in his face, turning the latch so hard he'd be able to hear it click. After what he'd put her through - after what he'd put them all through - it was what he deserved, what he had coming, what he'd brought down on himself, what he'd -

"You should probably start by coming in, then," she sighed, finally dropping her eyes from his as she held the door open, making space for him to step inside. "My list's a little too long to go through with the wind blowing like that - trust me, I've timed it."

"I bet you have, Sammy," he said as he took that first step onto the mat, his eyes prickling from the warmth of her house and something else, something he wasn't quite willing to let himself believe yet. "And I'm all ears."

[casual-praxis]

"Praxis stop making AU's only to abandon the concept immediately" challenge: Failed.

Here's a wip of something I probably won't actually finish since the concept is so far outside Four Swords it's basically its own thing.

I've been listening to Tales from the Gas Station again and it got me wonderin' how I could throw the Four Swords boys into a similar scenario, and somehow we got this concept from it, despite having no basis in either media.

Vio wouldn't even be the protagonist technically--just a recurring secondary character who turns out to be only slightly better than the actual antagonists.

He also dies at the end of everything, so there's that too.

More rambling below the cut for anyone interested. It turned into a mini-fic on accident, whoops.

From what I managed to cobble together while staring into the oven at work and giving myself an eye-strain headache, the actual "main character" is Blue, and they all work at either a very slow gas station or a very slow food establishment.

There's a weird cornfield right behind the building that's kinda funky if you look at it wrong sometimes, but that's pretty normal for their town. Lotta strange things in that place. Weird happenings all around.

So obviously since business is basically a graveyard all the time, the best way to pass the time would be to dare someone to go into that weird af cornfield, right? Yeah, makes sense. Which is why Blue nominated Red.

Of course, Red doesn't want to go in the weird cornfield--it's almost dark out, and the corn smells strange, and what if he gets lost, and, and, and--Blue doesn't care. Get in the cornfield, Red.

And so Red goes. And he's gone. And he's gone. And, huh, it's been an hour. Did he actually get...oh, nope there he is.

Red returns, but he's acting a little...weird. After being in the weird cornfield. Probably not connected in any way. But just to make sure, Blue asks if Vio's also getting weirded out by weird Red.

"That's not Red," Vio insists, but that's stupid. Vio's being stupid, and Blue tells him as much.

"What were you even expecting?" Something funny, probably. Not...whatever this was. It was like Red had found a twelve-pack of five-hour energy drinks out in the maze and decided to chug the whole dozen.

"So he'd be dead."

He's not dead! He's probably just...spooked stupid, or something. He'll be normal Red again tomorrow. Yeah. Once the nerves wear off, he'll stop being so...hyped about life?

"Huh, funny that. Guess what rhymes with Red."

Shut the fuck up, Vio.

And so, the wait for normal Red's return begins.

A day passes; still being weird. Another day goes by. Not much difference. Soon, a week has passed, and Weird Red seems to be here to stay.

Honestly, Blue is not vibing.

Sure, Normal Red kinda pissed him off, but at least he was genuine! ...probably. He was kind, at least. Not this... saccharine, doe-eyed...thing pretending to be Red. It wasn't even doing a good job at it! Red would never forget to water the fake plant in the window! He loves that stupid piece of plastic like only an overly empathic idiot could.

Vio was right. They had a corn demon among them or some shit. The real Red was probably still wandering in circles out in the cornfield, he had to be. And since it was kinda, sorta...maybe Blue's fault that Red was lost, he should probably be the one to go looking for him.

It was a little strange how the fake Red seemed to disappear after Blue told Vio his plans, but so long as he didn't get ambushed by the thing out in the field, he was golden. Or, well, he was Blue, but you get the point.

With that in mind, he bravely entered the weird cornfield on his lunch break. Because surely, Red was just a little lost and not...

Oh fuck.

"Wonderful." A cold hand grips the side of his face, dragging his reluctant gaze away from the mangled... His vision blurs, barely making out the familiar silhouette of-

"You found the body."

Vio.

Why was-?

"It's so sad," Vio intones, tightening his hold as Blue resists. "The guilt must be eating you alive, huh? This was your idea, you know."

What-

"How sad," he repeats, as if attempting to empathize. "You made a mistake, but it's okay. I've already taken care of the doppelganger."

An unnaturally purple fluid drips from the corner of Vio's mouth as he speaks, nearly iridescent in the evening light. Just the sight of it is enough to activate Blue's fight or flight response, but despite his struggling, Vio's grip doesn't falter.

"I can repair the rest, too, if only you forget this ever happened." Vio smiles, disarming and kind.

It doesn't reach his eyes.

Blue's mind blanks. The bitter taste of...something burns his throat. He tries to remember what it was he last ate, but he can't seem to think straight anymore. What was he doing again? He can't seem to remember, and-

Blue opens his eyes.

Red is staring at him in obvious concern.

Apparently, he'd zoned out in the breakroom again. Weird. He's been doing that a lot lately for some reason. Oh well. He couldn't afford health care, so that issue was just going to have to sort itself out.

He decides to spend the rest of his break trying to get that gross bitter flavor out of his mouth, while Red goes to water that fake plant he still hasn't realized is plastic.

All is as usual in their weird ass town.

Then again, Blue can't really remember a time when it wasn't weird. Like seriously, who planted a cornfield behind their store? It never seemed to die or go out of season...super fuckin' weird.

Maybe he should go poking around in there one day--er, actually, something about that idea just made the bad taste worse. Yuck. Maybe not.

--

This was not supposed to read like a fanfic but that's just how it ended up manifesting, my bad.

Here's some rapid-fire notes to make this a little more coherent:

+ Blue (and Green, though he didn't appear here) both tend to ignore anything supernatural that occurs. Both of them have had their memories altered by Vio on several occasions, but only because they keep winding up in situations that require it due to brushing off the signs.

+ Vio is a spider demon inhabiting this weird little town because of the sheer number of supernatural happenings. The way demons operate here is a little strange, they're constantly seeking out other supernatural beings to kill and consume their souls for power. This town is basically just Vio's territory at this point, enter at your own risk.

No one knows he's a demon, and he's constantly pushing the limits just to see when someone'll notice. Very frequently he'll say something along the lines of, "I'm completely normal" or "I'm human" mostly unprompted.

His saliva contains venom, of which can be used to erase the memories of anyone who gets it in their body somehow. The amount of memory lost depends on the dose, but Vio never ends up needing to erase more than a few days at most. He usually just spits on his fingers and shoves them in someones mouth to administer. (If he tried hard enough, he could neutralize the effects, but he doesn't have a reason to. For now.)

+ Red actually did die here. No amount of memory manipulation was going to undo that. Vio was still able to bring him back, but he's not really human anymore. His soul basically belongs to Vio now, but seeing as Vio wants him around, he allows Red to remain as some kind of will-o'-the-wisp given human form. Red does know Vio is a demon because of this, but he isn't going to say anything.

If Vio were to die and his was consumed by another demon, Red would die as well. So it's a good thing Vio's soul isn't consumed when he dies. :)

+ Shadow shows up in town at some point and starts working at the same store as the others. He's there under the orders of Vaati, but mostly he just wants to fight Vio. They have history, though it differs depending on who you ask.

After befriending everyone, he decides to go against Vaati, who's goal is to take the town as his territory to reap the benefits. This culminates in a massive fight between the minor supernaturals and Vaati's forces, and Shadow and Vio vs Vaati himself.

They manage to defeat him, but in one last bid to take Shadow down with him, Vaati lashes out with the last of his power, hurtling a sharp piece of debris from the battlefield at a weakened Shadow. Vio intercepts it, because of course, and though he's able to stop most of it's momentum, he's still down two of his mechanical spider legs, and it pierces through his weak point (chest gem) despite the other two.

There's a brief moment where they make eye contact, kinda just in disbelief, before Vio's physical form dissolves and all that's left is his purple soul. Shadow has to fight his natural instinct to consume it for power, and instead hold it gently as he returns to the others to let them know Vaati was gone now, his soul shattered and scattered to the wind.

+ I have no idea if any romantic relationships would be present here, but at the very least Blue and Red are soft for each other in some way (post cornfield). Shadow's feelings for Vio definitely aren't straight, though Vio's feelings are a mystery even to him. And Green's around here somewhere. Zelda too.

All of this was thought up in the span of like two hours so it's not very coherent, but it's what I've got so I offer it to y'all in place of actual cohesion.

Oh, also Vio's probably going to get revived. Shadow gets to be the one doing the resurrecting for once. Just gotta find those Vaati soul shards and shove them into Vio's. I'm sure it'll work out fine.

[ronearoundblindly]

Pirate & Pin Cushion (3)

Jake Jensen x gn! ops!Reader

Painful...But In A Good Way (see previous or JJ Masterlist)

The last thing you remember is the awkward kiss Jake planted on you during a screaming match. Now, awake and healed, your friend and teammate is acting more awkward than usual around you.

Warnings for foul language, *super skimmed over action,* canon-level betrayal (Roque), completely vague mentions of injuries, suspicions, doubts, misunderstandings,--GO FIGURE--an argument, and I just wanted this done honestly. Not that I don't love them, but I need a win in the COMPLETED department. WC ~1.5k

You’re a Loser through and through now.

Months have gone by since you were stabbed and unceremoniously, sorta-kinda-maybe-not kissed by Jake Jensen. You woke up six days later with Pooch by your side, disappointed it wasn’t your Banter Bro.

The last thing you remember is turning away from Jake to hide your face. After that, nothing. You suppose he feels awkward about it. Maybe he regrets it, even if the ‘kiss’ was just part of a gag to him.

The most frustrating part is everything is exactly the same. Jake keeps you at arm’s length, a holding pattern to get no closer as teammates but no farther as friends.

Is this…are you in the friend zone???

It blows.

You’d still prefer this over being a pariah, so on you quip from interaction to interaction.

For all Jake’s hype about loving Halloween, he shuts down when you ask him what costume you should choose. Then he goes home to his sister and niece for the holiday.

...Okay…

You console yourself knowing this is for the best. You’d promised yourself no attachments, and nature clearly pushes for you to keep that promise.

You’ve almost—almost—resigned yourself to actual pin-cushion-status, jabbed repeatedly by his indifference. You are PC: perpetually crushing on Jake Jensen. It sucks.

You can be professional though. You can keep up with the jokes and take the hits to your heart and body that come with the job.

Until you can’t.

Los Angeles. The port. The shitshow.

While scrambling to get out of the line of fire in a showdown gone wrong, Jake cuts his leg vaulting over a concrete barrier, and you get him to a nook between shipping crates.

You squat down to change the mag on your MP7 and suddenly hear Roque’s voice behind you. He’s not on the comms.

“Should’ve told ‘em, Jensen."

The look on Jake’s face is shocked and bitter.

Roque clicks his tongue. "At least then they’d know…”

Before you can so much as turn to look, Jake’s raised his own weapon, firing right over your shoulder and within inches of your ear.

The pain is sharp and hot, sending you stumbling into the warped metal wall of the nearest container.

Jake wraps a thick arm around your waist and yanks you away.

You catch sight of Roque dead on the asphalt.

It’s complete chaos, pure survival mode for the next twenty minutes, deaf and deftly tying a bandage around Jake’s leg in an open, empty crate while he’s on comms and frantically hand-signaling you the plan.

But you make it. Everyone but Roque makes it.

Eventually, when the ringing subsides in your non-ruptured ear, Clay lays outRoque betrayed the team. Aisha teaches you a way to cup your occipital and tap to reduce the tinnitis. Pooch leaves to see the birth of his first child.

You’re left to ponder if Jake is a traitor, too.

Did he kill Roque to keep his own cover? Was he supposed to recruit you into his and Roque’s plan? Is that what he ‘should have told you’ so Roque wouldn’t need to kill you?

The possibilities haunt you. Is this why he’s kept you distant for months? Was Jake worried you’d catch on?

You blame your stupid crush for stopping you from telling Cougar your concerns. You trust Jake—or you want to trust him, so badly—so you confront him alone.

Dinner. At your place. Away from the team so he can feel safe to admit it. Away from the team so you can pretend your forgiveness isn’t already secured. You’ll deal with the consequences once you know the truth.

Jake seems an odd mix of totally psyched and forcefully reserved when you invite him and a nervous wreck when he arrives at your door.

It’s just pizza. You were too distracted to do more.

He doesn’t pick up his slice because you don’t either, running your hands up and down your thighs compulsively, then quietly asking, “about what Roque said…”

Jake leans back in his chair, leg bouncing frantically, rubbing at his neck. “Yeah,” he replies, eyes on the floor.

“Was he…were you his partner in that? Were you suppose to take me out, too?

Jake’s head snaps up, his mouth askew and brow pinched. “WHAT?”

“Just tell me the truth. I swear, we can work it out with the rest—“

“Is this what—what the fuck—“ he shoves the chair back and steps away “—that’s the reason I’m here right now? I thought you were finally gonna say it!”

Jake rips his glasses off his face and harshly runs his fingers through his frosted tips.

“Say…what? What am I supposed to say? I’m not the one Roque had a damn secret with.”

He’s visibly upset but with bugged-out eyes like he has no idea what to do.

“Well, I’m not a fucking traitor,” he mumbles.

Jake replaces his glasses and takes his phone from the pocket of his low-slung jeans, hitting a few buttons and tossing it onto the table. It slides until it knocks your plate.

His own recorded laugh cuts off quickly. “Okay, PC, what were you saying about Halloween? One more time,” and then comes another slow voice, “I should have told you before I died.

“I love you.”

Your whole body freezes, brain turning the words over and over until it occurs to you…that is your voice.

“I didn’t say that.” Your knee-jerk reaction comes swiftly. “I don’t remember that.”

Jake snorts without humor. “Got that part.”

You’re too stunned to speak. You can’t even imagine when you would have…oh god.

Jake rushes to fill the silence as you die inside, again, maybe more realistically because what.

“Did you at least think I was a badass, like, ya know, a sexy traitor or whatever? Or…were you gonna wrestle me to the ground after I ate a whole pie?”

You keep sitting with your mouth agape.

“You didn’t poison the pizza, did you? Right? Say 'no.' That’s overkill, or just, kill—were gonna kill me?!”

“I’D KNOWN YOU FOR TWO WEEKS,” you explode, bolting out of your own chair.

“Yeah,” Jake squeaks, “I know.”

“Two weeks, and then you taped me saying ‘I love you?’”

“But, like—“ his usually deep timbre pitches super high “…did you?”

“Why would you just sit on that, Jake?!”

He shrugs. “You weren’t exactly sober.”

Too much, too many feelings, all at once. You try to get away, to make a break for the bathroom, but Jake grabs your wrist and swings your momentum to the wall.

Your back hits with a soft thud, pinned in place by Jake’s chest. He’s not breathing heavily, but you are, pushing you against him repeatedly.

That just makes it harder.

Yes, you said it (you guess), and yes, you meant it. Jake, however, hasn’t said word one about if he feels some sort of way for you. Your brain can’t intuit his romantic inclinations two minutes after accusing him of treachery.

He’s…there, not moving, not speaking, lips slightly parted while he stares at you.

You clear your throat.

“You’re…you’re touching me,” you say softly.

Jake doesn’t skip a beat, gently tightening his hold on your arms. “That’s what I do, PC. Finger keyboards.”

You gag as he quickly shakes his head.

“What the fuck?”

“Sounds sooooo bad," Jake moans. "I’m so sorry.” He let’s go of you, steps back, and slaps his hands in the air frantically. “Wait, okay? That was not the joke. I can do it.”

“You’re sick, man.”

Jake rubs at his temples, muttering something about keys, computers, and Halloween. “Hold on...so dumb. This is why I was trying to record it! It’s your joke. You were laying on the bed and--”

“I would never say you fin—“

“He was standing right there,” Jake bursts, scaring you to silence. “Roque. When you said that into the phone, I mean, he was standing at the door and he heard.”

Jensen sighs. Defeated and deflated, he rests his hands on his hips, inhaling sharply.

“So at the port when… He aimed a gun at you and I just—“ he makes a finger gun to point over your shoulder, adding a soft pow sound-effect “—Roque was saying I should have told you before he tried to kill you.”

“About the recording?”

“No.” Jake rocks on his heels.

“About the joke?” Your voice is so small.

His stupid, beautiful blue eyes lift to meet yours.

“No, pin cushion, not about the joke.”

There's a horridly long pause of nothingness.

"Fuck it."

Jake lunges forward with startling intensity, fingers lace behind your head to draw you to him.

You don’t turn away this time.

His lips are soft yet determined, slowly pulsing to transform one kiss into dozens, and he adjusts everything—his height, his stance, his proximity to get even more of you in a single embrace.

“I love you,” Jake whispers, shifting to tilt you left while he goes right. “I should have told you ‘I love you,’ too.”

You promised yourself no attachments, but who are you kidding? You're such a loser, and you found your match.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

😵‍💫

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

[continued from here] [first post for October 18th] It may be Shinji who has more of a way with words between the two of them, but Akihiko has always been the one who fills their silences. Shinji’s the kind of guy who would rather listen than talk, unless he’s really got something to say. So naturally, that means it falls on Akihiko to break the silence they’re mired in now, as well. 

But he just can’t bring himself to do it. 

It isn’t that he doesn’t know what to say– he can think of plenty of things that he should say right now. The issue is whether or not he can. He tries a few times to speak up and feels bile rise in his throat instead of his voice. 

So he chokes it down and they’re left with…nothing. Nothing besides the scorched atmosphere Akihiko left in his wake.

Maybe it would be for the best if he leaves. Maybe getting away from here and taking some time to calm himself down is the better option, even though he’s loath to think about parting ways with Shinji on such an awful note. Even if it should only be temporary, how can he be certain it will be? How can he know for sure that their luck will hold, and Shinji will still be here when Akihiko gets his shit together?

He doesn’t know how he’d live with himself if the worst came to pass, and that was the last conversation he and Shinji ever had.

Akihiko’s inability to swallow his shame and talk past it turns out not to matter, ultimately. It’s Shinji who finally breaks the arid silence with a heavy sigh. 

“Look, I’m…really no good at this sorta thing,” he starts. “You already know that. An’ I’m also kinda high on painkillers right now, ‘cause– turns out getting shot doesn’t feel great. So maybe nothin’ I say’ll make any sense.”

Despite himself, Akihiko wheezes out a small laugh, and Shinji’s mouth twitches up on one side. He wants to believe that maybe this is a step in the right direction. It’s not like he’s wrong either; Shinji’s talents with words have never extended to talking about his feelings, even before his Persona went berserk. 

“But…you’re right,” Shinji continues. “I knew what the consequences could be, but I didn’t take ‘em seriously enough– not for Amada, or for you ‘n Kirijo– because I was too caught up in my own reasons.”

Shinji’s hands clench into fists around the bedsheets, his fingers trembling. “None of it– nothing mattered to me as much as the thought that maybe… Maybe I wouldn’t have to live with the fact that I’m a murderer anymore.”

“Shinji…” Each word out of Shinji’s mouth feels as heavy as a cinderblock, and Akihiko’s chest aches under the weight of them all. 

Shinji closes his eyes and sags back against his pillow, exhaling a weighted breath through his nose. He looks utterly exhausted. “That’s all I’ve cared about these last two years. The only thing I wanted was to atone, no matter how. And my life for the one I ruined seemed like a fair trade, y’know?”

When Shinji opens his eyes again, his gaze falls on the open window. The Moonlight Bridge winks back at him, the morning sun glazed mirror-bright over its arches, forcing him to wince and look away. “But I guess that’s pretty screwed up, right? I was just pushin’ my selfishness onto a kid and takin’ the coward’s way out, like you said.” 

Akihiko doesn’t quite trust himself to speak without a sob bubbling up instead, and in any case, the glare off the bridge is starting to get to him too, so he gets up to close the curtains. He grips the stiff, plasticky fabric tightly and bites his lip. 

“And that’s…” He almost doesn’t turn back around to face Shinji, but decides at the last moment that he needs to. “That’s really how you feel?” 

Shinji holds his gaze for just a moment before looking away. “Mhm.” 

It’s the first time Akihiko has heard Shinji like this– so somber and serious– in a very long time. But if he’s being truthful (Akihiko hopes to god that he is), it only serves as a horrible reminder of just how much Akihiko has failed. 

He must be making a face, because when Shinji looks at him again his mouth twists into a rueful smile. “Still mad, huh?”

“Of course I am.” Akihiko’s answer is immediate. “I just…am I really that unreliable?”

“...What?”

Akihiko almost returns to his seat but overshoots it and ends up pacing instead. “Shinji, you helped me so much when Miki died. You were there for me, you– you never left my side. You always made sure I was okay.”

Memories flood over him like a tsunami, churned together by time and grief until they all blend into an amorphous impression of those days, individual moments of shocking clarity floating within the tide like flotsam. 

Shinji had let Akihiko cling to him for days after the fire with minimal breaks, while Akihiko had cried until he’d been sick. Shinji had held him tightly all through the funeral as he’d choked on dry sobs, all of the tears wrung out of him, his eyes throbbing and swollen almost shut. Afterwards he’d bullied Akihiko into lying down and draped washcloths soaked in cool water across the top half of his face. 

Shinji, checking in with him between classes since they didn’t have the same homeroom that year. Shinji, walking the entire way home with him after school even after the adoption had been finalized and Akihiko had gone to live with his parents, their house in the exact opposite direction as the new building that served as the orphanage.

And that was just the aftermath of Miki’s death. Shinji’s been looking after him all his life and never expected anything in return. All those memories blend together until it’s impossible to keep track of them all. 

Akihiko had certainly appreciated it at the time, but he’d still taken it for granted. It’s only now that he realizes just how much it all meant to him. His breath shakes, his voice trembles. “I don’t– I don’t think I could’ve gotten through it at all if I hadn’t had you. So– the fact that you thought I couldn’t be there for you–”

“That’s not it.” Shinji cuts him off. “You’ve got it all wrong, Aki. I knew you would’ve been.” He glares into his lap. “That was the whole problem– I didn’t want you to be. I didn’t want your help, or Kirijo’s, or anyone’s. It all goes back to me bein’ a selfish asshole.”

Oh.

That makes an unfortunate amount of sense. 

“...Was it that you didn’t want it, or–” Akihiko swallows, the sound uncomfortably loud in his ears. “Did you think you didn’t deserve it?”

Shinji shrugs. “Same thing at the end of the day, ain’t it.”

“No.” Akihiko shakes his head. “It’s not the same at all. You did deserve it. You do deserve it, Shinji.”

He doesn’t answer right away. His expression is stony and contemplative as he mulls over Akihiko’s words. 

“...If I’m honest, ‘m still not sure I can believe that,” Shinji says quietly. He looks at Akihiko again, meeting his gaze and holding it this time. “But I am sorry, Aki. Sorry for bein’ that selfish asshole.”

Despite what he’d demanded earlier, he hadn’t really been expecting any kind of apology. He wasn’t sure if he’d even really wanted one, or if all he’d really been after was the catharsis of throwing a punch. But hearing it now, with Shinji sounding so genuine, so sincere– emotion starts to swell in Akihiko’s chest again. 

He pushes it down before it can strangle his voice. Shinji isn’t the only one who needs to apologize. It’s time he stops being so self-centered.

Akihiko makes his way back to his seat, pulling it even closer to Shinji’s bedside as he sits. His knees knock against the bed frame. 

“I’m sorry too,” Akihiko murmurs. He ignores the look Shinji gives him. “I kept saying I wanted you to rely on me, but– I didn’t take your feelings into consideration at all and I forced you back into a fight you didn’t want to be a part of. 

“And because of that…” He shakes his head, glowering down at his hands. He clenches and unclenches them into fists, watching the tendons in his wrists flex. “If I’d been paying more attention, if I’d just realized what was going on when Amada joined us–”

“Hey,” Shinji interrupts him using the same tone of voice he does when he’s about to tell off one of the juniors, or when he’d scold one of the younger kids at the orphanage. “Don’t you dare start blamin’ yourself for this, alright? None of this is your fault.”

It’s nice of him to say, but Akihiko knows it isn’t true. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. “You’ve told me a thousand times how tunnel-visioned I am. How I always run off on my own without thinking because I focus on one thing and forget about everything else.” Suddenly it feels like every lecture that Shinji’s ever given him and he’d brushed off is weighing down on his shoulders, heavy and shameful. 

“I told myself I needed to be stronger, but… In reality, I was just doing the exact same thing I accused you of. I was just running away too, from any problem that I couldn’t solve by knocking it down hard enough.”

What else has Shinji lectured him about that he just passed off as nothing when he should have listened? Why had it taken him until now to realize it? Why had it taken this? 

“You were right all along. And in the end, it didn’t even do any good. It didn’t matter how strong I was. Look what happened!” He gestures at Shinji, at the bed he’s propped up in– at everything in the room. It speaks for itself. 

“You almost died, Shinji! If one thing had been different– if just one thing hadn’t happened the way it did…you wouldn’t be here.” A sob clogs his throat. He drops his head into his hands, digging the heels of his palms against his eyes in a futile effort to keep the tears at bay. 

“All that strength, and yet I still couldn’t do anything for you. Not a single goddamn thing. I couldn’t even donate blood when you needed it, did you know that?”

“Aki…” Shinji doesn’t say anything more for several long moments, and the silence between them grows so heavy. Eventually, though, Shinji reaches out and puts a hand on Akihiko’s knee. 

“Listen,” he says. “We both fucked up. But there’s nothin’ we can do about it now. And…” He gives Akihiko’s knee a soft squeeze. “If it means anything, I don’t hold any of it against you.” 

Attempting to hide how emotional he’s gotten was hopeless from the start, but he’d been holding the line so far, if only by the skin of his teeth. Now Akihiko crumbles. He’s thankful that it’s just Shinji here instead of the whole team. He’d never live it down. At least Shinji’s seen him cry a million times before, so the blow to his pride doesn’t sting that bad. 

“I-it does. It means a lot to me, Shinji,” he replies, his voice quiet and hoarse, scrubbing the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

[akunoniwa]

Prying

AN: i feel kinda evil bc the ending is sorta abrupt but this shit was getting too long babes... unless?

Synopsis: In which you and Dottore discuss pet names in conversation at first, putting them to good use not too long after...

Pairing: Il Dottore x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, Dottore finds your humiliation to be v irresistible..., use of 'master', 'daddy' (once! hear me out lmao), etc., mirror sex

WC: ~5.2k (she's long-winded, sorry, i think...)

You don’t understand the appeal.

As soon as you mentioned off-hand to Dottore that you didn’t understand why some thought it was hot to refer to their partners as ‘daddy’, he wouldn’t let you live it down. Not only did he find this addictingly humorous, but he also found himself curious… Perhaps you just never put it to proper use. Before you mentioned it, he didn’t have any opinions on the matter, let alone knowing it was a matter to begin with. But the fact that you were basically telling him that you would feel so degraded, so violated if you were to actually call someone this… He wanted to know, he wanted to weaponize this somehow, jokingly of course… He thinks.

“It’s just… Like, that’s how you address your father as a young child… Ya know?” You turned your head in the crux of your pillow towards him. You both lay in a leisurely type of bare, simply winding down from the day. Dottore had long set his book down, charmed by this topic.

“Well, wouldn’t it just… I’m not sure, darling… Some people are just so desperate to feel small, but I couldn’t tell you why or when it began. Sounds morbidly incestuous, to a degree.” You scanned his defined profile as he looked at the ceiling in thought, more committed to this investigation than you expected.

“Right? Like, why not ‘master’ or even… I dunno, someone not related to you?” You were waiting for this very reaction from him, a smirk pushing his fine smile lines to be visible.

“You never seem to call me any of those things…” Somehow the smirk dressed itself as a pout before your eyes.

“I– You never asked…? I don’t want to just randomly address you as something that might make you feel… Uncomfortable.” You must’ve forgotten who you were speaking to, a man who never seems to falter, a seasoned masochist. Even still, you stood your ground… In truth, the prospect of calling him anything other than his name simply embarrassed you, but you tried to keep that close to your chest in secret.

“I suppose you’re right.” He chose to respect your reasoning, “What if I asked?”

“Then I guess… If that’s what you like, I would do it.” You spoke matter-of-factly. In addition to the inherent embarrassment, you honestly found it hard to want to call anyone, any of those names, as you don’t usually give in that easily. This was something that only added fuel to his enduring fire, your playful resistance, the process of melting away your pride and dignity… All for him.

“You don’t even use my official title anymore. It’s almost funny, you’re the only one I like hearing my given name from, though usually, it’s only in here that I hear it.”

“Because you asked, you buffoon. You asked me to call you that because you told me you liked it.” You couldn’t keep a hold of your laughter any longer.

“Did I?” He remembers the day he did so, but found too much enjoyment in teasing you as he stroked his chin in faux thought.

“Maybe you should call me ‘master’.” Your giggles were running circles around the room.

“Would you like that?” He turned his head to you, his eye contact haunting you briefly, “Unlike a certain darling, I wouldn’t feel embarrassed to honor your filthy little wishes.”

“I said I would!”

It was his turn to chuckle, his deep voice resounding gently above you like its own duvet, “But you’d be reluctant, as you just informed me. Unfortunately, I find it amusing when you’re out of your comfort zone because I can tell when you’re just being your shy, bratty, self. You’d tell me otherwise.”

“Then we can both be masters.” Your laughter caved like a burst dam, dying at the thought of how ridiculous that’d be.

His face was hysterical, lips pressed so hard they’d lost their color as he tried not to let his laughter free, “I don’t know how that’d work… I don’t think we’d get anything done. Would we both be on our knees or just in a stalemate of power stances?”

“Stop– Stop talking.” The laughter was making your stomach tickle, unable to stop as he continued the hypothetical.

He rolled on his side to face you completely, “If we’re both standing in the power stance, how would one bend the other over their knee? It’s a logistical failure, darling.” His hand snuck over to gather a tear from your reddened face as your giggles died down. Perhaps being a buffoon wasn’t so bad if he got to hear your true laughter emanate from your infectious smile.

“I’d say we fight for the title, but… You’ve told me in various ways how you prefer to be the loser in that situation.”

“Try it,” you suggested, “Just try calling me master once, I wanna know how it feels.” A delicate, mischievous smile still lounged on your face.

An opening unlike any other, he’d overpower you with what you thought would be your pedestal. The sounds of blankets shifting flooded your ears as he moved to straddle over you, his powder blue hair hanging in ornate waves around his face.

“Is this not cheating?” You placed your hands on his blazing chest above you, your eyes lingering on how his arms flexed to hold himself over you.

“Only if you tell me it is… Master.” He didn’t hesitate, his eyes a deep, sappy scarlet, “You make the rules.” He referred to you like this so languidly, so heavily as he awaited what you might do next.

“I suppose I’ll allow it… I don’t feel very masterly when you’ve got me caged like this.” You took a liberty only the one ‘in command’ would, experimentally pinching his raised nipples for a reaction.

His long lashes fluttered as if a moth were shaking off dew. God, he wished you’d never stop, but he didn’t want to say that just yet, “Wouldn’t a master simply… Take control?”

He bent his arms to allow for his upper body to lean into you, his lips, taut once more in his trademark smirk, nearing your left ear, “Or… are you already stepping down?”

He felt your right hand slide down his front, anticipating your touch to collide with his exposed length, unfortunately the only thing he couldn’t conceal. He was easily aroused by you, though he was discovering… Toying with you like this, almost a perfect balance of submission was making his body rage for you. His willingness to even think someone had the higher ground was only because of you, finding that… Maybe he didn’t mind being controlled by you. But what really riled him was the thought of that pretty word leaving your mouth, so exasperated, barely able to think about anything beyond him.

Your hand sunk slowly against his searing, rigid body, not surprised to find he was already hard, his cock pronounced as it hung over you. You’d debated on touching him or not, but something about taking him into your hand was addicting… Just stroking his length, pulling on him deliberately from shaft to tip, as if you had him caught on a leash of your touch.

His voice, no matter the words or sounds that he used it for, was the key to your demise, deep with an alluring timbre. Quickly your mind was reminded, that he is the Second Harbinger… People find this man to be deplorable and menacing, his voice is only heard making barbaric commands or bickering with other deplorable, menacing Harbingers. All for good, supported, reason. But here, on top of his usual stony tone, grew flowers through the cracks of his demeanor, pollinated as you stroked him. His lips were so close… His shameless, sodden groans fall right into your ear. He was effortlessly always in control, knowing how susceptible you are to him.

“Don’t you want to tell me what to do, Master?” You wanted to punch him as he whined this into you, though not without defiance, his tongue shocking the helix of your ear, a trail of ice left behind. He wouldn’t dare allow himself to miss how your breath lurched in your throat.

You responded with a harsh enough pull on his cock to only remove your hand altogether, “You’re too good at this…” Not that you could mind too much. You pushed his chest in a way to urge him off of you, to which he easily obliged as you both switched places. His length pressed against his lower stomach as you sat over him to grind your pooled wetness along the underside.

“How long do you want to play pretend, darling?” You felt his hips gyrate up into you ever so slightly, “You clearly cannot get out of your mind, too busy wishing I was taking over it.”

You thought for a moment, wondering how you could catch him off guard… How you could make him lose himself, even for just a second. Your uncertainty was making it difficult, “How about…” You hesitantly removed yourself from him to retrieve a toy from your bedside drawer, laughing inwardly, almost nervously at his impending reaction.

He wouldn’t mind what you brought, his intrigue piqued as you revealed your futile efforts to best him in his own game. Your choosing a dildo could mean a few things in this situation… Did you want to fuck him? Was he to watch as you fucked yourself? He waited with bated breath, already missing your heat against him.

You returned to your position, a buzz of pleasure shooting through both of you at the continued contact. He’d do anything at this point, just wanting to see how far you’d go so he could obliterate you equally and more afterward.

After briefly taking it into your mouth, you dragged the wet tip along the center of his front, all the way up to his chin, “Would you suck cock for your master?”

A foreign feeling, not unlike pleasure, barrelled through him as he saw the look he was waiting for in your eyes, “You’re asking me?” Chills trickled through his body, all the way up through his nose as a pleased sigh.

“Be good for me… All you have to do is open your mouth…” You strung him along, though he was too turned on to care, parting his lips to allow you to slowly push into his mouth. He could feel your legs tensing on either side of him, your clit throbbing against his cock as he did so… This was so good.

“I wanna see your eyes.” You weren’t so much dominating him but rather he willingly entertained you by playing along, this is what he told himself anyway. Looking into your soul as his lips clung to the rubber so sweetly, his dextrous tongue working with more enthusiasm than you expected… You didn’t think he’d look so pretty doing this.

Once his spit generously coated the dildo, you dragged it from his mouth, depriving his twitching length of your sopping pussy as you sat between his opened legs. Opening your own, wide enough that he could see the lustrous stage you’d set. You easily slid the dildo, gleaming with his saliva, into your beckoning cunt as he was made to watch.

Well played, he thought… You looked so beautiful as your cunt clung to the dildo that was just in his mouth, your contorted face making it evident that you simply wanted to be filled… Your pace was slow with purpose as you imagined him fucking you like this… He wanted so badly to be inside you, to hear your abashed, small, voice call him dirty things. You swore you saw his cock jolt with impatience. 

His right hand lunged unhurriedly towards his sex, but you swatted it away, “You’re only allowed to watch.”

His lovely voice shaped as a threatening laugh met your ears. Threatening as in he’d let your antics wrack up to be used against you at the right time. His eyes were forced to shade themselves as he looked down over his toned torso, watching you intently. The only way you would be able to dominate him would be by his own hand… or cock. You had so many opportunities to learn from his example, though your mind was probably checked out at that point.

His movements to resist your words ceased, watching as you increased the pace of your self-assault, glorious sounds of your wetness snapping into his ears. His lower lip tucked between his teeth, your left hand playing mindlessly at the soft skin of his upper thigh… He couldn’t help but feel the fault lines of his heart threaten to burst at the lovely sight before him. It felt like his gaze alone was propelling your hand, the tension was caustic and heavy.

You brought yourself to the edge of your release, movements shaky as you caged over him like he’d done to you before. You only had to bring the toy to his lips for him to gladly collect your sweet, his moans, deeper than the Chasm, almost infusing with it as he did. He loved how your eyes branded him as you watched… Maybe you were learning something after all… How to adeptly destroy him, one glance at a time.

Setting the dildo aside, at this point, you just wanted to kiss him. His lips were glossed with a brew of spit and cum, but that only made it more enticing. Like leaves brushing against each other in a gentle breeze, your lips found his. His whole body felt particularly sensitive, your nips at his lips almost a tickle as you teased him. That is, until he captured your face between his hands, lifting his head to press up into you. It felt like the kiss had been placed into a kiln, searing and intense as he was exposing how much he just needed to have you. His heart attached to yours like jumper cables, reinventing what yearning felt like as his tongue swam against yours, disregarding aesthetics and grace.

You both were only left more of a mess than before. As you parted, briefly a salty thread of combined spit, like a spider web, hung between your lips before snapping silently.

His hands pressed down along your curves as if shaping clay, pausing at your waist. Your arms were growing tired, and you couldn’t keep your mind off the gravitational pull of your throbbing cunt, knowing how his cock merely sat in wait. You wanted to lay on his chest… For some reason, his grin only grew.

“Was it worth it? Do you feel transformed, master?” He batted at you with his words like a cat playing with its prey, knowing it was his turn, whether you decided that or not.

“You did well, darling.” You commented in a voice that mocked his own, causing you both to laugh in unison for the second time. Your head dropped in a forfeit as he squeezed your sides.

“Making fun of me, now… I see.” He clicked his tongue, returning to the program that he would see through to the end, “Go stand by the stool in front of the mirror.” He ordered as his hands dropped in time with a sensation of excitement in your stomach, starting with his interpretation of this act.

You obeyed, the kinetic flow of wanting to please leading you to where he directed. You were made to observe your naked body, though distracted when he approached from behind and sat beside you on the stool, “I want you to lay over me, your pretty ass perked for me.”

He could see a familiar gleam in your eyes that sent him universal, knowing you were following his every word like footsteps in snow. Bridged over his legs, his right hand found your plump ass as if it were a magnet, caressing your supple skin. You knew what his intentions were, though, bracing for how and when he’d deliver his first blow.

“Do you truly think, darling… That you’d be able to overpower me without me letting you?”

Whatever your answer was, he wanted to feel the recoil regardless, “You’d just tell me your submission was ‘playing along’ even if I did.”

His hand lifted but a few inches to collide with your ass cheek, gathering your flesh in his hand like a duvet, “It’s against your nature...”

You reeled in how he assumed his harsh demeanor so effortlessly, “Do you think the other Harbingers know you’d clearly bow to my will under your guise of controlling the uncontrollable?”

This clap to your ass felt more personal, making you wince as a squeak snuck out of your throat, “I don’t give a single fuck about those insolent boors. I’d not admit your curiosity in them, though you know I’ll just hit you harder.” Your eyes locked on his own in the mirror as he had well already caught onto your antics.

“So it goes… Perhaps I do wonder about them.” You pushed the topic over the cliff, the punishment he’d give could only really be a reward.

He tried to not allow his heart to be swayed by your taunts, “You think they aren’t familiar with your pathetic moans coming from my office?”

“If they’re anything like you, that’d only intrigue them further, I would think…”

Smack.

This time you gave him a moan of rejoice, growing addicted to the sting, his hand falling over the crest of your ass to explore your cunt. Your wetness overflowed to coat your clit as it threatened to drip, loving his aggression.

“Hmm… I’ve barely grazed your desperate cunt until now, and it seems you’re trying to insinuate something foolish. Then tell me, my sweet, insatiable, darling, what or who is it that you want?” His middle and ring fingers pressed into your soaked, petal-like lips, coaxing you to answer. 

You were debating… Should you weaponize another man’s name to provoke him… It feels like foul play, as you really had eyes for no other madman but himself, he knows this well. But what if…

“You’re always hanging around that opulent-looking one with glasses… Pantalone, was it?” You chose to improvise listlessly with war anyway.

He gritted his teeth, eyes diverting away from you for the first time. He knew you were just trying to play the cards you had, God, he knew. But something inside could not prevent the inherent, possessive tendencies from making some kind of appearance. Of all the Harbingers, of course you’d choose Pantalone as your mode of combat. He’s such a duplicitous excuse of a man.

His two fingers plunged into your hole, he watched as the muscles in your back tensed, feeling your front wriggle over his legs, “I see how he looks at you, darling. He is so acquainted with wealth, he’s used to having everything available to him… He sees you with me and knows his ability to be conscious of his own existence will be compromised if he even thinks about touching you.”

His hand retracted to instead give your weeping clit a generous slap, the wetness enhancing the sound, then sinking back into you. His lithe fingers felt so dizzying as they paced against your spongy walls, how could you think of anything but that?

“Really, I brought it up because the thought of them seeing you like this turned me on, not because I want to fuck them.”

“Invariably, if they somehow saw me like this, you’d be the only logical cause… Look in the mirror, look at yourself.” His free hand slid under your face to push your cheek in the mirror’s direction, “Who are you bent over so pitifully for right now? It almost sounds as if you’d like an audience…” He noted where your eyes were as you followed his roaming hand at your backside, “Tell me.” He demanded, swatting your ass once more. He couldn’t chain back the grin on his face, waiting to see which title you’d attempt to christen him with.

You weren’t about to give in to what he wanted most, your pure humiliation…, so you opted to at least repay him equally, “You, Zandik… Master.”

“Really…” His fingers returned to your sopping cunt, more so as a reminder rather than a means of pleasure, “I think you know what I want to hear… I’ll give you another chance.”

Your face cringed slightly, though that wasn’t enough to disguise the way your hole clenched around his stilled fingers at the thought, “Fuck…”

He hunched down to ensure his words were clear, “You brought this up… It was eating away at your mind so badly that you thought it was safe to bring it up to me? It’s at the tip of your little tongue, darling… Your face is such a tender shade of red…” His hand pumped slowly into you, as if to lure it out of you with his feigned compassion, “Tell me, pretty baby, whose fingers are inside you right now.”

Your eyes looked to the supposed heavens for a moment, “I hate you.”

He scoffed sharply, “That sounds more in character… You’d be such a contemptuous little brat for me…” He gathered your hair haphazardly, pulling your head upwards, somehow amplifying his ministrations, “Go on, who’s got you bent at his will.” His tone was low though infected with his shit-eating grin.

“Fine– You… Daddy.” Your voice had almost entirely checked out. You knew he wouldn’t let you leave this position until you did so.

He laughed a riot right into your ear, though hissed like the snake he is afterward at the sheer pleasure of winning, maintaining his pace, “You look as if you could hurl, darling, but I don’t think I’ve felt your cute cunt clench around me quite so hard… You’re dripping down my fingers, I ought to make you clean this mess up.”

You whined as he increased his pace, egging you on, “That’s right… So fucking tight…”

In actuality, he didn’t care much for the pet name but rather just your adorable embarrassment, so he decided he wasn’t convinced, “Why not embrace it a little more…” Getting you close to the edge, retreating his hand only to prod at your lips, “Why not taste your humiliation, since you hate calling me ‘daddy’ so much? Hmm?”

You were shivering as the denied orgasm left you high, though not so much dry, taking his slender fingers into your mouth. Your tongue weaved between them so as to clean them completely, his eyes sharp, jabbing into your face as he watched. That feeling again, as if an hourglass had been flipped, all the blood rushed to his core as he fucked your mouth with his hand. When he was satisfied with your work, he slowly dragged his soaked fingers along your back to trace back down. You shook at the chilling trail it left.

“Hmm,” There was an arrogant triumph to his voiced sigh, “So sensitive, too… It drives me crazy, darling.” He moved to grip your waist, urging you off of him, “I wonder… Would you suck cock for your master?” His words wagged their fingers in your ears as he adjusted you to sit on your heels before him.

“And you say I talk shit?” You ran your hands flush up his parted thighs, observing how cute his folded tummy looked as he sat, watching you. His faint happy trail, the glazed plains of his pale chest in contrast to his florid, angular face. For a moment, he said not a word, realizing how desperately he required your touch, in any capacity. His cock leaned heavily to the side, as if in its last attempt of an exhausted taunt for your lips. Your hands closed in on him, his eyes fluttering as they gently pulled at his flushed length.

“I love it when you moan for me…” You mentioned as an aside before taking his swollen tip between your velveteen lips. His head fell back, and a groan, like a smoke ring, hovered to the ceiling.

His fingertips pushed their way through your hair, though with no other intent but seemingly to distract himself from losing himself too soon. He played with your hair almost domestically, petting you along as you took as much of his throbbing cock as you could. You could tell he so badly wanted to buck into your mouth, your hands gripping him at the pivot of his thighs and hips as he writhed… You wished he’d let you in on this kind of raw desperation more often, as this version of him played in your mind so sweetly.

“Such a good girl for me, fuck.” He’d never called you that before, but the sensation it conveyed in your brain felt as if your soul had fallen out of the window of your body. He had you where you couldn’t refute it, making you swallow that, too, without resistance, “I knew you’d like that…” He laughed wickedly despite his exasperated state, and it felt so good, “My good girl…” He almost sang it down to you the second time, making your chest waver, coasting your hands upwards against his tense torso. He untangled his hands from your hair, easily blanketing yours against his waist, effectively lulled by the lush of your touch.

His fingertips dragged down the stretch of your arms, over the horizon of your shoulders to round back to your face, causing you to pause in wait. Your eyes lazily gravitated up to his own, his face was tipped as he peered over his nose in his lecherous way, “Come here, darling, where you belong…”

Upon your standing, he twisted you around between his hands to face away from him, then pulled down at your hips to finally lower your pliant, sobbing cunt onto him. The friction of his firm chest against your back alone was tantalizing enough, his hot breath steaming your skin from behind making your body slack in his grasp. A hand left your side, gripping his length to align himself. The initial pleasure of his tip making contact with the magma that was your arousal against him was suffocating, your eyes heavy with refined lust, though you couldn’t tear them away. He lowered you onto his cock at a meticulous speed, so dreadfully slow, you swear you could feel his pulse. His groan of contagious desire shot through your spine as you watched him disappear inside you as he left you to sit completely full of him for his own amusement.

“Look at you, pretty darling, how you like to watch yourself take my cock so beautifully.” His wet lips played on your shoulder blade to leaf between his words, “How I wish this very image were branded into my mind…” Moving towards the crook of your neck, your head inadvertently swayed to the side to allow access, his hands forcing your hips to grind in his lap. His teeth brushed over the sensitive base of your neck, your shoulders raising as he teased your skin. You felt as if you were losing your grip on a certain aspect of consciousness, the way his thick length stirred inside you, brushing and shocking every nerve.

“Keep moving just like that…” He instructed in a whisper as his hands left to tend to your breasts, adding yet another layer of dizziness as he pinched and kneaded. He loved the way the soft skin of your ass brushed against his inner thighs, your cunt tied and bowed around his shaft so perfectly. He’d pause at your neck here and there to peek at your face, a delirious focus on maintaining your movements… Your precious sounds that now flowed shamelessly from your lips, he truly could never get enough of you.

You tried to lift yourself, needing to be properly rearranged from the inside out, but he halted your attempt, unraveling a whine, “I know, I know… My good girl has been working so hard…” His eyes fixated on how your slick literally overflowed, trickling down to his balls in a lewd stream. How you squeezed around him upon that name… It was too much for him to bear, “You really do like that, huh darling?”

“Mmhm…,” is all you could manage, your thighs twitching impatiently, an indescribable feeling winding up your body, “God, please just let me move.”

“I didn’t even have to ask you to beg, you sorry little thing.” He guided you to lift, your vision flickering at the sheer strength of the awaited friction, “Tell me more… How much do you want me to fucking destroy you?”

You gave in to his game, unable to resist, “So badly, Zandik, please.”

Finally, your hole just barely reached the precipice of his raging cock, holding you there, “I could make you cum just like this, giving you only what you barely need as you wished I’d fuck you right– Please what?”

“Fuck… Please, please fuck me, I need your cock… Please.” You squirmed as your voice was hoarse and almost unfamiliar to even yourself as you pleaded.

He slammed you down onto him easily, given how soaked you were, hardly able to wait himself, “When you’re this wet, I would think my cock is the only thing you need.” He talked both you and himself into oblivion, sticky slick between both his and your thighs accentuating the frantic collision of your bodies. His fingers were soldered to your waist, gripping you as he moved your body at his pace, watching as your breasts flailed rhythmically in his thrusts’ wake. He wished there was a way to consume the buttery noises you were making on top of him as his own bled into them.

You adored how his lips hung open, how his brows tensed upward as he exhibited both complete focus and abandonment, his mind devoted only to the way he fucked you in this moment. You found him infuriatingly handsome as it is, but to see him so breathless, his vast vocabulary reduced to exclusively vile taunts, he was utterly ethereal like this.

His lips curled up as you eyed him so intensely, forcing you off of him, the sudden vacancy in your cunt making you want to scream. He stood behind you, feeling up your front as he did so, “I can’t describe the feeling I get when you look at me like that, darling…” He turned you to face him, hastily stealing your lips for a kiss that dug into your chest like his nails did your back as he searched your skin hungrily. 

Upon stopping, he moved to hold your chin in place, your face displayed in his hand like a gemstone gleaming in the prongs of a ring. His swollen lips were still close, his crimson eyes had a glow to them, almost, cascading a dense shadow of need over your features, “However I may call you, you will most importantly, always, be mine. …And I hope… I will always be yours, darling.”

[foreststranger]

BLADE - There’s A Major Problem: I

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ(ꜱ) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ you’re dragging around a dead body lol

ꜱᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ 『honkai: star rail』blade x gn!reader ft. silver wolf and kafka as emotional support

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ a kinda (barely) angsty-hurty/comfort-maybe-ish-sorta (?) unpolished short-tiny-small-lazy fic where blade dies so you gotta drag him back home and wait for him to heal himself back to life or wtv

𑁍 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 0.9k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ this is based on a dream i had abt him lol anyway i have like 5 diff fics i’m writing and i have only this one finished lmfaooo anyway anyway i also wanted to say sorry for not posting anything in 10 whole days i’ve been a little unmotivated but i’m not gonna be posting for a bit as i’ll be having some family members visiting and unfortunately they speak english and might catch me writing these… HSR x reader fanfics are not something i’d like them to know i write 😍😍 ANYWAY ANYWAY ANYWAY THEY’RE COMING TODAY SO I DECIDED TO CUT THE FIC SHORT MAYBE I’LL CONTINUE IT SOON THOUGH

“Blade, I promise. I’ll always be there to clean you up and take care of you when you’re hurt.”

It feels like years since you made that promise to him. And you regret it. You didn’t know what you were getting into by involving yourself with this man. Blood soaks into your shirt as you look down at him. He’s definitely dead. While you knew of his immortality and regenerative abilities, you can’t help but be a little worried. What if… he doesn’t wake up this time? Blade would certainly want that, but you’re not sure what you’d do without him. His features are soft in the gentle starlight, and he looks… at peace. The only other times you could see him like this were when he was sleeping. After a few more minutes of just admiring him, you remember what you’re supposed to be doing. Your hands grab him from under his arms, pulling him along the cold ground, huffing as you do so.

“Why did you have to go get yourself killed…” you mutter to yourself. Blade is far too heavy for you to carry, so you’re forced to drag him around instead. Even then, it’s a demanding task. Your home was still around a couple of kilometres (roughly a mile) away. You felt like a murderer, bringing around the bloodied body and leaving trails of blood. How were you meant to go back to your neighbourhood like this? Your clothes and hands soaked in scarlet fluid, a dead man in your arms. Under the cover of night, perhaps no one would notice. You grunt as you hoist Blade up a few steps of stairs. Walking backwards, you don’t realize that you’re about to walk into a wall. Until you bump against it, of course.

You crash down to the floor, a piercing pain attacking your skull. Leaning against the wall, you try to lift Blade onto your lap. The effort of lugging him around and the throbbing pain in your head leave you huffing for air. You wipe your crimson hands on your thighs before hugging Blade against you.

“Do you have to be so reckless, Blade…?” You shut your eyes tight, trying in vain to block out the headache. “How am I meant to take care of you…” You hold him close, your face pressing into his back and his dark raven hair.

“I made a promise to you. So, now… I have to take you back home. Try to make this easy for me, okay?” His familiar scent filling your lungs is almost enough to make you completely forget that he’s a corpse as of now. Blood pools around you, soaking almost every inch of fabric covering you. Is it normal for someone to have this much blood? You can’t even tell where it’s coming from, seeming to just flow out of him.

“I love you…” you whisper, planting a gentle kiss on his head. Closing your eyes again, you try to catch your breath before having to drag him off again. When you finally decide to get up, the light of the stars seems to illuminate a path for you, leading the way home. Maybe that’s why they call it Stargazer Navalia.

After a few more minutes of struggling, your pocket buzzes. You’d forgotten that you were keeping Blade’s phone on you. Quickly reaching for the phone, you realize that it could only be one of the Stellaron Hunters.

You put the phone down and breathe out. Both at Silver Wolf’s ridiculousness and in relief that you won’t have to lug around Blade alone anymore. ‘Dear beloved one and only’ is a huge stretch. Though, it was a little nice for her to recognize your… relationship. The Stellaron Hunters were almost like your in-laws, after all.

“Blade? We’re gonna be home soon. Kafka said she’d come help me out.” You can’t help but let out a little chuckle. “I’m so helpless… I can’t even bring you back by myself. At least you’ll be safe soon, though. You’ll be in bed and awake before you know it, Bladie.”

He hated that nickname — saying it reminded him of someone he’d rather not associate with you — but you couldn’t help but call him it sometimes.

Knowing that Kafka is on her way, you decided to settle down for a little and wait for her. But before you can even sit, Blade’s phone vibrates with another notification.

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