#snipe wc

[eggfeather]

snipe

[rosemist50]

The rest of Bloodclan: Bone, Brick, Claw, Snipe, Fury, Jaggedtooth, Pounce, Snapper, Tess, Willie, and Minty. Nightwhisper was not part of Bloodclan. Snowflake, Icicle, Cloudy, and Sniff are Willie and Minty's kits, and the whole middle row is from the manga Ravenpaw's Path, and so their designs are based heavily on the ones in the manga.

Originally posted on IG December 2021

[thetrailofflames]

Hornetstripe

(Shot)

Temporary Caretaker (Soldier); former fang

A medium-furred ginger molly with distinctive black markings blue eyes. She has a torn right ear, a scar across the left side of her lip, left shoulder, and a bite mark on her right foreleg.

She wears one dog tooth in her left ear.

………………………………………………

Parosexual ~ Molly ~ She/Her

Biological daughter of Snipe. Courting Mossthorn

Partially trained by Brindleface.

Reserved, Cautious, Loyal

Meaning: a ginger and black cat who has a distinctive stripes

Former Bloodbound cat

Sleep is nonexistent with this one

Somewhat young but has decent support.

[spikeinthepunch]

i have my 2022 art summary queued up and just want to ramble about the last year,... lots of stuff happened, good and bad! been a strange time.

i imagine most followers around have probably been here since late 2020 but 2020-21 i did art quite a bit, but the thing that really stuck for that period was i was super involved in warrior cats RP for some time-- i love RPing and these group also got me motivated to draw too! but i feel like i kind of wasnt around in the typical way due to how consumed i was in it. i dont think i need to go into detail of every month during that time, but it wasnt until early this year where i dropped it, and i didnt really publicize in detail why due to the issues surrounding it, but it was probably the biggest impact on me this year mentally, and in terms of art direction. and i feel like itd feel good to document this in a blog after it has now blown over- and why ive shifted my direction too.

i was very happily running my own RP server for just a year before i had to close it this year and it still makes me sad, as much as i moved on. ARP was like... a very big deal for me and i cant deny that. i dont have a lot of projects i get that into or get even close to setting off with its story figured out. i wrote well over 100 pages of documents for the world and the 6 planned arcs. i drew loads of art i couldnt even share until it closed (tbh im not positive i have shared it anyways bc i didnt wanna post it here). i made a website, i made riddles and code, i developed lore that was far outside of the warrior cats scope to it basically just being original!

truly i have never developed a project as far as i made ARP and to shut it down in order to save my privacy and past trauma from being further exposed in such an inappropriate way really sucked ass. a lot. it was a situation where there was no control given to me, no sense of understanding from the community. im not writing this out now to be pointing fingers and calling out names- just venting how it took a toll on me this year. what had happened with my server was that one of my own mods decided to dig into my profiles and found an old nsfw page, which even more indirectly led to an old flist, which exposed various things i was into around 17-19, reflecting trauma and abuse id been through (in it, voiced wanting to take part in certain kinks; ex. being a victim to violence and dubious consent scenarios). this information was at first presented as a threat to minors viewing my RP page (as in "ppl can see your nsfw profile from the blog!") which wasnt true/accessible as they said it was and required many many clicks to find, and then slowly revealed to me the people exposing this were in fact two of my own mods and was promptly cut off from explaining anything else as it spread in a private mod discord in the RP community. Which was worse to me than everything else that could have happened honestly, and i only learned this second hand from a person who saw it in that discord and thought it was horrible this information was spreading like that behind my back. in some ways things were okay-- i didnt get "called out" openly as i did my best to explain how these pages were not current to those around me, and that they had dug into some deep cutting trauma and a period where i wasnt getting any help to cope properly. it still didnt stop the fact i left every other RP i was in due to connections w those exposing it, and in turn closing my own. i dont want to say im thankful i didnt get called out publicly, but the damage was bad enough in so many other ways because i couldnt continue my server at all, and in the end people's obsession with purity culture in the fandom still made them deem me "bad" because i had nsfw accounts in any capacity. thats not a space i want to be around anyways...

ill forever be thankful for those who stuck it out to the end and witnessed the documents i got to share before closing it for good. but this was a HUGE part of my life for the last years of the pandemic, and i wasnt there for warriors cats- i was there for the people i knew, and the stories i made. i still miss RP a lot, and i want to host projects like that again after moving on mentally from that ordeal.

but my 2022 art summary shows a major shift that was 100% in part to disconnecting from wcrp. humans everywhere! seriously. for a solid few months i couldnt even bare to look at anything related to ARP. i didnt want to think about how i lost this story i developed so hard for so long.

honestly didnt really start drawing properly again until the summer- my art during my HL phase was very very light and very messy. i fell into a hard depression early summer and i only crawled out when i got into mcyt- and even then i was hiding it from this blog. i think i just needed to not feel like i was "online", because August included me joining a onceler RP and again, not saying anything about it. which Weehawken was the first RP thing I had done since i closed ARP too, and it was weird. not the RP itself, it just felt weird to try that again.

and it wasnt my favorite month, i just felt so tired and exhausted- that depression was kinda lingering and drawing a lot for an RP again was something i wasnt really used to anymore.

the past three months have been.... better? or i have at least enjoyed what i am drawing more. i think im far enough removed from what happened with ARP too that it doesnt weigh on me as strongly. i wasnt blaming myself for anything but it doesnt feel good when you know you have to kill something. we talked about recovering it, i had ideas, but i just knew it wouldnt be worth trying to with so much damage caused in my own self, and the impression that whole community left on me knowing people would willingly spread such personal information without question. having trauma exposed after going to therapy and relearning how to use the internet in a way that doesnt lean on trauma dumping and whatever unhealthy bullshit? its quite a blow. i dont make personal blogs like this often because i have good methods to deal with my shit these days.

despite this messy year im doing well. its been ups and downs. overall i know im far more confident in myself, i moved out to live on my own, and im just doing my thing. whatever bull shit happened this year, call out or not, i know im still just gonna keep doing whatever it is im doing. and heres to hoping i can bring a world to life like i did with ARP again, bc i really have a lot i want to tell and show and do.

[fairene]

beneath the moonlight / ln4

vacay lando norris x maxf!littlesister

no use of y/n, as always.

prompt ⋯ ohhh hey ! wanted to stop by to say i love ur fic and wanted to request insatiable lando with max f’s sister like a forbidden summer fling with all their friends and no one’s supposed to know about their secret relationship ( especially max ) — @444mercss

a/n ⋯ this was much longer than i intended, but the words just kept flowing out of me. thank you to all those who beta read my post and helped with grammar!!! ( @jamminvroomvroom , @theonottsbxtch ) you all helped so much. and thank you to mercs for requesting this. i didn't know i'd enjoy it as much as i did, but it definitely was for 20k words. i'll probably take a week ( or maybe not ) off from writing just to give myself a cool down period, but still here to answer any asks. feel free to pop in. hope you all enjoy this, and remember, readers looks are up for interpretation, along with the outfits. colors of coloring are mention only briefly!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drinking, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, oral(m+f)!receiving, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, feral lando. best friends little sister, brothers best friend dynamic, mutual pining, 'games', horny thoughts. much, much more. but even, possession, jealousy. if i forgot any warnings, feel free to let me know.

wc ⋯ 20.1k (WHEWWW WEEE... edited by @jamminvroomvroom, @theonottsbxtch)

the summertime was one of your favorites. you and all of the rest of your girlfriend’s would spend each and every day together without question. but as time went on, they got their own lives. partners, engagements, jobs. not to say that you weren’t an accomplished young lady, but it was starting to show that you were hung up on a life that was starting to fade.

your brother on the other hand, was keen on keeping you in this life. in tip top shape on your toes, he’d always challenge you in a multitude of ways. or annoy you to no end. typically it was the latter. 

but he had invited you this summer on vacation with his friends. you knew them all relatively well, texted here and there, but you never imagined to be trailing along on a villa getaway sponsored by the quadrant house, mainly the famous lando norris himself. 

you would be shy to admit it, but you had a bit of a soft spot for lando. him and his cheeky smile. the moles that donned his face. his starlit eyes that radiated an emerald hue beneath the sunlight. it was intangible the way that you could pick apart the details about his nuanced beauty, but it was a secret for you to keep.  a secret that no one, especially your brother, could ever find out about.

but that’s all that it was, wasn’t it?

a dream. a pathetic fantasy. you wouldn’t ever gain the courage to talk to him, make a move, despite how often him and max talk about going on dates with girls. talking about his love life, or the rather drab there of. he fucked around a lot, max knew that, and would consistently warn you to never get wrapped up in the same lifestyle as the british driver. you’d hold up your hands in defense, shrieking a ‘don’t worry about me,’ though you wish you gave him a reason to.

why did you feel undeserving of lando– because he was a formula one driver? attractive? charming? were you afraid that you were going to be friendzoned–? oh god, that would be the fucking worst, wouldn’t it? you could never imagine the hangouts being the same. so you’d bite your tongue until it bled, even when your body yearned for the heat of his own. 

the villa that you would be staying at was on lake como in italy. it was a beautiful venue, a place that you’d been dreaming of visiting. max knew this, hence why he’d probably sniped you an invite. but it wasn’t like no one wanted you there. everyone did. that was the problem. you were so incredibly loved by all of max’s friends, that he kept them at arm’s length. no one would ever hurt his little sister. not while he was still breathing. 

“wow,” you breathed, stepping out of the uber from the airport. the house before you was a stunning makeup of eccentric architecture that dated decades before your own birth. it was a grand building with tall, marble columns. thoroughly decorated landscaping, and even had running fountains in the front. you were so lost in your awe that you didn’t see the huge pair of mahogany doors swing open. 

“max,” you turned your head towards your brother who was grabbing your bags from the trunk. you shifted to the source of the voice, finding the british driver standing barefoot with a beach flannel and short-inseam khaki shorts low around his waist. you gulped before looking anywhere else but him. 

“lando!” max approached him, arm outstretched for a shake. lando met him half way down the marbled steps, taking his sunglasses off from the top of his head. 

“how was the flight, mate? good?” max nodded for the both of you whilst you fiddled with the accessories around your hands. you didn’t ever know what to say to lando. you found yourself unbelievably speechless in his presence. 

“not too bad, ‘specially if this is what you’ve got.” lando chuckled at your brother’s words, and then his eyes finally landed on you. you and your comfortable outfit from the plane ride over. you and your pulled back hair, respectfully messy, and the jewelry that adorned your fingers. his eyes caught over the bling, and how you anxiously picked away at the skin. 

“never thought she’d grace our presence,” lando said jokingly, which had your head snapping upright. you flushed, sucking your bottom lip with your teeth. 

max rolled his eyes, avoidant of the topic of you in general. “whatever, mate, she’s here now, in’she?” what? what was that supposed to mean? was your presence requested? you suddenly felt wanted above all things. 

“she certainly is.” lando approached you with his tongue tucked behind his bottom lip, hasty in his steps. you stood up straighter with a light smile on your face, eyes twinkling away from his own. you couldn’t keep eye contact with him. “c’mon, love, i’ll take your bags.” 

“are you sure? i can take–”

the bags were grabbed from your hands. you felt the palm of his own for just a moment— the warm flesh, humming low against his own. you felt like he spoke to you through your blood, but you let it go. lando norris wasn’t giving you special attention, that’s for sure. 

you promised yourself that much. this whimsical, airy crush of yours needed to be vetted on the spot. he was your brother’s best friend, older than you, and certainly didn’t have time for a girl who wasn’t a celebrity. 

right?

he took your bags through the exquisite villa. the interior was even more luxurious than you could ever imagine– floor to ceiling windows, candlelit ceiling lights, flora decorating each wall that you turned to. it smelled delectable, too, wafting germanium and coconut oil. the smile on your face couldn’t be ignored, as you shimmered brighter than the summer sun. 

“you like it, then?” came lando’s voice. your head dropped, glancing at him from where he stood, waiting for you to join him on the steps. had he been watching your face? 

“you’re joking.” you assured, hands clasped together. “it’s beautiful.” 

lando smiled then, too, letting his lower lip snatch between his top teeth. he tried hard to conceal his happiness, but you felt like you could feel it amongst the air. you felt warm all of a sudden and cleared your throat, urging him forward up the spiraling staircase. 

you walked in silence with him down the long corridors. you would pause before each door briefly, wondering if he was going to open it, but he didn’t. it wasn’t until you were reaching the ends of the hallway when he stopped, twisting the knob of the white wooden door. he stood aside, letting you in first. 

the room you’d be staying in for the next few weeks was more than you could ever dream of. with its spacious interior, personal bathroom, and private balcony, you felt like the luckiest girl alive to be able to experience this. to live in this moment. to be here. in italy, of all places. 

lando interrupted your dreaming haze by sliding the bags in. you turned to face him in your unruly, exhausted glory, and he stared at you. a hand of his found the back of his neck. 

“so…dinner tonight at seven, pool day tomorrow, um…” he looked around, acting as if he could suddenly have the words appear into his head. “oh and, if you need anything, my room’s just next door.” 

he said it with haste, as if he were shy about the fact, and was already stepping out the door. 

“wait,” you said, stepping forward. lando hung back, gripping onto the door frame, swinging his head back into the room. “thank you.” 

the words seemed to hit him harder than you thought that it would. he blushed a light red, dimming his tanned face, and cleared his throat before nodding. “of course.” he said with out hesitance, making it clear that he would do this for anyone. “‘m glad you’re here.” 

and then he was gone. 

you stared at the shut door in stunned silence. did you really hear him correctly? 

you didn’t let your thoughts linger too long, but you couldn’t help but let it. the curly-haired brunette stayed in your mind whilst you settled in and unpacked. all ounce of his shy, gaunt nature. 

by the evening you were more than settled and relaxed. you’d taken a small nap to rejuvenate your energy, and just in the nick of time for dinner. you got ready amply, sliding a comfortable dress over the surface of your body. the straps were thin and fell loose upon your collarbones. you’d pair an elegant pair of low rise heels on your feet, pointy-toed, that matched the color of your dress.

you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the dim yellow lighting illuminating the corners of your face that you so frequently forgot to appreciate. it was in the hours of the night that you could appreciate yourself, unopposed to the gawking looks of strangers. 

there was a soft knock on your door at 6:57. you turned, dress swaying from your movements, and cracked it open. 

lando stood there on the other side. him and his dark shirt and khaki pants. he wore a pair of leather black loafers that matched his shirt. he smelled good, too, a masculine tint of sauvage. 

no words were spoken between the two of you. you simply stared at one another, lost in each other’s features. you resisted the urge to trace the moles on his face with a finger, whilst he fought himself to not reach out and run his hands along the fabric of your dress. 

his eyes softened when you met his, cheeks filled with a simple kind of joy. the two of you were done ogling at one another, still foreign in each other’s presence. 

“ready?” he asked. you nodded, grabbing a matching handbag from the countertop and slung it over your arm. you shut the door to your room behind you and walked a few paces behind lando. you weren’t close with him like that to walk side by side.

or so you thought.

he dragged his feet to slow his pace, coming parallel to your side. he held his breath for a moment, turning to look at the exposed skin from your dress. you caught his wandering eyes and looked up at him, wandering beneath his emerald depths. 

“what?” you asked tenderly, voice hitching in your throat. 

“nothing.” he turned his head to face back forward. “just haven’t seen you in a while, that’s all.” 

that was an understatement. you haven’t seen lando in almost three years. max had done a stellar job of wanting to keep you separated from his friends, though you weren’t upset about it. you had your own life, and that was perfectly enough for you. 

but you were a girl with a heart full of wanderlust, and often dreamed of what you could’ve had. there was a marksmith of delusion prodding the hidden parts of your brain, working tirelessly to pick apart the small interactions you’ve had with lando over the years. 

when you turned 18, he brought you to an exclusive club and showered you with gifts, alcohol, and even more. it was a night you wouldn’t forget, feeling lucky enough to manage a dance with him on the dance floor. his hands hovered above your body, the warmth seeping through your skin, rattling your bones. he even got so close to your face that you could feel his breath. smell the alcohol that reeked from him. 

you thought you were going to kiss. 

and so did he. 

but your brother separated the two of you, calling lando over for a group shot. you were left there, stranded on the dance floor, with the phantom touch of a man that you knew you could never have. it pained you to admit such a truth to yourself, but it didn’t loiter. you had a life to get back to, not indulge some silly, fanatical dream that kept you up late at night as a teenager. lando norris was the fantasy, never to become a reality. 

though, every time in presence, you’d manage to falter. set those delusions free the second he’d act kindly to you; gentle, tender tenacity that you believed would be special to you. max’s little sister. that’s all you were, though, weren’t you? 

“you’ve been well, haven’t you?” you asked him with a hum, holding your bag with both hands in front of you. the leather piece bucked against your abdomen. lando watched, peering to see if he could hold it for you. 

“‘course. living my dream, aren’t i?” you’d made it to the end of the hallway. the top of the staircase. 

“it’s not a dream.” you said with a softer intonation. he looked back towards you with a raised brow. “it’s reality now, i’d reckon.” 

he smiled. 

the two of you made it down the steps. you lingered in the grand foyer, beneath the candlelit chandelier. it was still light outside, but the sun was beginning to set. it had created a pink and blue hue over the water’s edge. 

but you weren’t looking at the water’s edge. 

you were looking at lando. your brother’s best friend. he had his hands in his pockets, facing the open living room, rocking back and forth on his heels. you cut your way to his line of sight staring upward at him. he looked down at you, wondering what you were searching for.

you had considered not doing what you were about to do. you really did!

but your hand was already outstretched, the tips of your fingers grazing over the grown facial hair on his chin. he didn’t jolt from the action and merely stared into your eyes, pupils blown wide from the warmth of your touch. 

“i like it,” you commented before taking your hand away, finding yourself into much deep trouble if max had seen the two of you. 

“yeah?” lando asked, suddenly much closer to you. 

“makes you look older and manly.” you rolled your eyes. 

“what? i wasn’t manly before?” 

your hand rolled over your mouth to withhold a laugh. “i’ve seen you weep at the sight of fish.” 

lando’s face lit up and his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek. “doesn’t make me any less of a man.” he crossed his arms. 

“really?” 

“just enthusiastic. don’t see a problem with having a bit of character.” you didn’t argue with him further when you saw your brother and other group friends join one another in the living room. they made their way closer to the two of you.

you took a step back from lando. he couldn’t take his eyes off the action, his face falling instinctively. it’s nothing. his expressions mean nothing. they’re not for you. 

“c’mon, i’m starvin’.” max called, slapping lando on the back. sure enough, you were walking out the door behind your brother, everyone trailing in an orderly manner. 

you heard lando call your name from in front of max. you hummed in response. “you’ll ride with me, yeah?” you blushed. how could you not? max turned his head over his shoulder, his voice saying nothing, but his eyes telling all. he knows how you felt about lando when you were younger. 

he knows, he knows, he knows. but surely, surely you’ve gotten over that little crush of yours. and lando, too, hadn’t harbored any feelings towards you either? surely, surely he couldn’t. you were his little sister. and max knew how lando treated girls as of late. 

it left a sour taste in his mouth, but he said nothing when you nodded, brushing past him. 

lando opened the door for you. his mclaren was a two seater, comfortable, and roared to life when lando turned over the engine. you couldn’t help but laugh feeling the seat vibrate beneath your thighs. it was a feeling of exhilaration that you hadn’t felt in a long time, but a feeling that came perpetually with lando’s presence. being with him made you feel alive, more alive than the years you’d walked this earth. 

your excitement had done things to him as well. his eyes were glued to how you reacted, enthralled by your visceral enthusiasm to being in such a tangible sports car. your fingertips grazed across the leather interior of the door handle. 

“gonna jump out on me?” 

you shifted in the leather seat, crossing your legs over one another. there was a heat building inside of you, deep in your core. 

“not if you don’t give me a reason to.”

he chuckled at that. “i’ll try.” 

you smiled to yourself, looking down at your fiddling hands. lando stepped on the gas and pulled out of the villa’s extraneously long driveway, leading the pack of friends behind him. 

“you look fit.” came his voice, nervous, beneath his breath. your eyes caught his side profile, all rough edges of it. “beautiful, but your brother’d have me by the balls if he heard me say that.” 

your breaths were heavy in your chest. “then don’t let him.” 

lando’s head whipped to meet your eyes, hand white-knuckling the steering wheel. you weren’t even sure what you were implying with your words, but he hoped that he wasn’t misinterpreting them. god forbid he didn’t understand. you didn’t brush him off like you did as a child, didn’t stumble away bashfully. now, in your grown state, you faced him head on. you challenged him, just as he suspected you would. 

“between us, then?” 

you nodded, tongue coming to wet your bottom lip. you made a motion of a lock and key against them, throwing the key out the window. he watched, but was drawn back to the road. that was one of the fastest car rides you’ve ever been in with that roaring engine, feeling like you had stepped into the biggest unknown of your very existence. 

the restaurant that lando had made reservations for was absolutely beautiful. you couldn’t count the amount of times you’ve been awed by the sites you’ve seen, but you couldn’t help yourself. you were simply one of the luckiest girls with even richer friends. 

lando opened the car door for you, sprinting to the other side. you found yourself laughing at the action, finding his urgency cute. 

you stepped out of the car and you immediately found your brother, his stance idle before he marched over to you. 

“he say anything to you?” 

you flushed. between us, then?

“no. what would he say?” 

max didn’t elaborate and simply settled for a huff from his nose. lando had been handing off his car to the valet man when he met up with the two of you. your other friends were in tow, eight of you in total, and made it inside the restaurant with ease.

you didn’t even think about what the seating arrangement would be. not until lando pulled out a chair for you, beside him, and you had no other choice but to settle in. not like you were complaining though. 

but max was going to. you could see the look on his face when he sat opposite to you, flashing you a pair of warning eyes. but you didn’t know what warranted them– you didn’t even say anything to lando, more or less. 

you furrowed your brows at him, feeling far too old for these insolent glances, and picked up the menu. lando sat next to you, mirroring your actions. you placed the napkin on your lap, a polite etiquette you’ve always precluded dinners with. 

“ah– look,” you leaned into lando’s space, the heat from his body, the cologne from his shirt, sifting through your nose. it was tempting. “for you.” 

your finger pointed to the blackened cod that they had on the menu. lando met you half way, looming over your shoulder at what you were pointing at. as soon as he read it, he scoffed. “fuck off.” you couldn’t help but giggle, attempting to stifle the sound the best you could.

“don’t do that,” lando’s voice came firm, but soft against your ears. he was talking just loud enough for the two of you to be able to hear. you glanced quickly at max, who was lost in conversation with his buddies. 

“what?” 

“hide your laugh.” you guessed you didn’t realize how often you muffled yourself. your hand lowered to your lap. “you used to do it when you were a teenager, too.” he pointed. you thought for a moment, realizing that he was right. “never understood why. especially since it’s so pretty.”

you froze, staring up at him with weary eyes. he looked confused at your expression. your hand came to slap his bicep. “stop it.” but you were teasing him. he saw right through your tone. 

“don’t let him, ‘s what you said, right?” 

you swallowed. nodded your head. 

his mouth dipped to your ear. his breath hot, just like your cheeks. “he won’t hear a thing then, will he?” lando’s nose brushed against your scalp, and you thought for a moment, dreamed, that he would plant a kiss upon your head. but his lips simply hovered, breaths warming your strands of hair. 

but you turned your head to meet his eyes, shaking his contact off. he noticed. tensed. “but he can see, you imbecile.” 

that had lando laughing. your face broke with a smile, unable to resist his intoxicating gestures. he simply shrugged, letting you win this one, and his arm came to sling over the back of your chair. his fingertips grazed the strands of your dress, dipping down to your bare shoulders. your posture straightened against the chair, legs crossing over one another beneath the table. he watched you shift, his teeth catching his bottom lip to retain his smile. 

the waiter came to take your orders. you ordered your preferred choice and drink, lando following suit. when the table received their drinks, you lifted your glasses for a collective ‘cheers’. 

when the main course was finished, you were handed the dessert menus. short a couple, you had to share with the man next to you. you nudged lando’s shoulder with your own and like a dog to a whistle, he was over your shoulder once more, his stubble barely pinching your skin. the thought burst through your head: what would it feel like on your neck? on your thighs, your cunt? you blushed again for what felt like an infinitesimal number, but turned your attention back to the menu. 

you pointed at the option that you thought was best. lando hummed, his eyes tracing over the features of your face. you glanced at him. “what?” you asked. 

he simply huffed a short laugh and nodded his head at your choice. 

it arrived sooner than later and the two of you split the sweet dessert. your brother was still lost in his own conversations, leaving you to your ministrations with lando. whatever they may be, you’d want them all. 

when you had your fill and so did he, you couldn’t help but look at him. he turned, and you laughed quietly between the two of you. he raised a brow. 

“you’ve got–” you pointed to his lip, but you figured your words were fruitless. you licked at your thumb and raised it to his mouth, cleaning him. his eyes darkened, becoming hooded with the shadows of lust. you even dared to bring your thumb back to your mouth, popping the remnants across your lips with a ‘pop’. lando never thought his dick could be so hard. 

“there,” you breathed. “all clean.” 

there was a brief silence. one second. two. “you’ve always been trouble, haven’t you?” 

your own eyes were hooded. “maybe.” you teased, cleaning your fingers with the napkin. “guess you have to find out?” 

lando’s hand gripped tighter on the back of your chair. 

“guess so.”

the drive back was tense. tense with your excitement. on the way out, lando and you lingered at the back of the pack. his hand was on your lower back, warm and electric, reminding you that you had stepped into the deep end with him. 

you still couldn’t believe what had happened. 

lando was speeding down the freeway, weaving his way in and out of cars, a dangerous task that you only felt comfortable with him performing. you’d lose your mind if anyone else was the driver, but he was the professional here, wasn’t he? 

you were even so bold to roll the window down and stick your hand out, feeling the harsh slipstreams beneath your nailbeds. you relaxed in the seat, head lolling against the cushion, hair flying into the wind. lando turned his head to look at you, his elbow leaning on the interior beneath the windowsill, and almost swerved into oncoming traffic. you were a picturesque beauty, lounging freely in his passenger seat, legs crossed, free. 

you were at peace for the time being, and it was the only way he’d wish to see you. but he could think of other things. 

he pulled into the house with ease. it was well lit amongst the long, windy driveway, and he made sure to let you out first. you two were the last to arrive at the house this time, taking your sweet time. you were in no rush to race back to your room, and neither was he. 

it was well past 10pm. when you reached the foyer, max was waiting for you.

“bright and early tomorrow?” he asked. 

“bright and early.” you confirmed. he pulled you in for a swift hug, rustling the top of your head with that familial brother love that you adored him for. 

he patted lando on the back briefly, before narrowing his eyes at him. you didn’t understand what was happening between the two of them, bro code, but lando seemed to understand well enough. max and his buddies traipsed up the steps, and you felt at ease when you heard their doors shut. 

it was just you and lando, now, idling in the foyer. 

you said nothing but began to walk, trailing forward through the grandeur villa. you were ample with your pace and heard him moving behind you. with a push of your hand, you opened the door to the grand balcony, leaving it ajar for lando to sneak out from. 

he did. 

there was a patio set there, waiting, and you let your handbag drop onto the coffee table. you sauntered over to the cobblestone walls, the balustrade meeting post to post for about thirty feet. you leaned against the stone. it was cold against your bare back. 

lando seated himself in one of the chairs, his legs spreading wide. he watched you lean forward, then spin to face him. your back was illuminated by the halo of the moonlight, drenching you in a pale visage of beauty. 

“you wanna know something?” you asked. lando perked up, humming with curiosity. he was too busy admiring your figure, having to pull himself back from such tumultuous thoughts. “i had a crush on you when i was a kid.”

that stifled a laugh from the british driver. “you did not.” 

you shook your head. “sure did.” you didn’t know why you were telling him this all of a sudden, but it was weighing heavy on your mind. “max was pissed. knew i only came around when he told me you’d be there.” 

the pieces began melding together in lando’s mind. he had been such an idiot boy that he couldn’t see what a prized beauty you were. there was a trace of second hand guilt. a pattern of ‘what-ifs’ trifling through his mind. 

“‘was just a stupid girl. tried so hard for you to notice me.” your hands covered your face for a brief moment. 

“you always wore skirts,” he recalled, looking at his hands in his lap. he looked up at you, smirk building. “that why?” 

you were shameless when you nodded your head. 

“so embarrassing, i know–” 

“what about now?” he cut you off, clearly wanting to ask this question the moment it left your lips. 

“what do you mean?” your mouth went dry, your hands clasping at the balustrade as if you were going to faint. your heart pounded in your chest. 

“what do you feel for me now?” 

you couldn’t meet his eye. you looked anywhere else but him, in fact, and opted to over your shoulder to admire the view of the ocean beneath the starlight. the ocean wouldn’t judge you. it would wash away your problems, in fact, and not stare you down. 

there was a deep intake of breath that had your head settling from its dizzy state. you looked back to lando and he sat there, cocky, upright. but there was a genteel nature about him that didn’t have you as afraid as you thought you’d be. 

he raised his arm, outstretching his hand for you. 

you swallowed, pushing yourself off from the balustrade. you sauntered towards him, earnest in your steps, before letting your palm rest on his. 

he pulled you close, fingers wrapping against your wrist. he was warm to the touch and he could feel your erratic heartbeat in your veins. 

lando’s legs spread for you to settle between. you stood above him, looking down at his brunette curls, his stubble, his cheekbones. his own hands were experimental against the planes of your body, touching sweetly against your hips. 

“you didn’t answer me.” he repeated.

you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“some dreams just remain dreams.” 

he waited a beat. you felt his chest rise and fall. 

“do you want to dream forever?” 

no. no. you didn’t. you wanted your fantasies to become reality. being with him. being loved by him has always been what you wanted. 

you lowered yourself on his lap, straddling his waist. you felt his cock thrum beneath the guard of his pants. did he want you the same? 

his forehead collided with yours. his nose brushing against your bridge. you shook your head, closing your eyes. 

“wake me up,” you mewled quietly, voice deep within your throat. it was a desperate plea, one that you thought he may not understand until he caught the glint in your eye. the wanting. the years of pining from a distance. how he was so wrapped up in his boyhood that he couldn’t appreciate a woman at his side. “please.” 

he didn’t wait any longer to meet your lips with his own. 

you were cautious with your touches. your hands were on his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. but your kiss was deep by his own volition, gripping your chin with his forefinger and thumb, earning a groveling sound in your throat. 

his other hand was stroking your back, pushing you against him until your breasts were firmly against his chest. you gasped at the firm contact, him using it as an excuse to slip his tongue into your mouth. he explored every corner with an expertise you didn’t know was possible. no place went untouched by his saliva, marking a cavern of his own, and perhaps awakening a fantasy that had been dormant for years. 

he lied when he said he didn’t notice you. 

he lied. 

lando would always await your appearance when he went over to max’s house. he’d hear you skip down the steps in whatever mary-jane heel you wore for that day. max would groan when your head popped through the archway, waving at his friends, but your lashes fluttered when you settled on lando. 

‘course he fucking noticed. 

he thought of you a sweet girl, caring for her brother, with an exquisite taste in fashion. he’d remember the skirts you wore–  black ones, pleated ones, plaid ones– they were all committed to the vaults of his memory. he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. 

and he still did. while you were perched atop of his lap, huffing in nervous breaths, your hands anxiously skirting across the plane of his dress shirt. you shook atop of him as your lips moved coincided with one another. two bodies, melding together beneath the moonlight. 

your tongue swirled against his own, hips bucking against the bulge in his pants. your cunt tightened aimlessly, drenching his pants below. he could feel the patten of fabric become lathered in your slick, and it brought him back to earth.

“we can’t.” he breathed against your lips. his chest was beating up and down, unable to calm himself. though he attempted rejecting you, his hand tightened around the fabric of your dress. 

your nose brushed against his as you chuckled. “a bit late, isn’t it?” your teeth bit at your swollen, bottom lip. you could see his eyes flash downward at your action, his own tongue wetting his own. 

“your brother,” he began to shake his head, still clutching around the fabric of your dress. 

“he doesn’t…” you began to say, kissing the sides of his stubble. you were even so bold to take his free hand, guide it to your inner thighs, and let his fingertips caress the wet fabric covering your cunt. it was swollen, desperate for his touch. you’d been desperate for his touch. desperate for as long as you could remember. “have to know.” 

lando’s fingers curled upward to apply pressure right on your clit. he didn’t even have to search for it, and you shifted your hips, bucking them across his palm. “fuck, baby…” he groaned into your cheek, followed by a crass chuckle. “you always get this wet?” 

your head buried itself into the junction between his neck and shoulder, whining with embarrassment. “jus’ for you…” the words came quietly, but they rang loud in lando’s ears. he could feel the vibrations from your throat, your aching cunt. you were laid atop of him, dripping down your thighs. 

“yeah?” he breathed, finding his heart beating rapidly beneath the weight of your body. his fingers began a pattern of motions across your clothed clit—back and forth— and you mewled into his shirt. there was a patch of drool beneath your lips. “look at you, then, made a mess all over me…” 

your lips sucked on the skin of his neck, biting at his chest. attempting to shift closer to him, if it was possible, had your cunt aligned over his clothed cock. 

“‘n i’ve barely touched you.” 

lando wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to. this was his best friend’s little sister. the amount of lines he’s crossed. the friendship he’s had for years suddenly feeling vulnerable, out the door. but he can’t say he hasn’t thought about a moment like this. fantasized about it once or twice. 

“touch me,” you pleaded, tilting your head to look at him. your eyes were wide, glossy with your pleasure, whilst his darkened at your contact. “more, i need…” your hips grinded against his palm. “more.” 

“fuck,” he cursed beneath his breath. fuck his self control. fuck whatever this was going to do to his friendship. you are real, pining for him in his lap, begging you for his touch. anything from him, really, you would take. this moment felt like it was going to flutter away any moment, and you’d be waking up from a sick, yearning dream. 

the hand upon your back steadied you against his body, whilst the fingers of his other moved the fabric of your panties aside. here, with his sensitive fingers, he could feel the heat from your cunt. it washed over him like a wave, retracting, tightening when he flexed his middle finger. you were utterly drenched for him, the cool breeze of the night raising goosebumps along your skin. 

you shivered above him, watching how his hand worked beneath your dress. his hand against your back curled around the base of your neck, angling your eyes back up to his own. “eyes on me.” you listened, melted at his soft, demanding tone, and nodded your head. you shimmied frantically across the plane of his hand, but he tsked. “be patient.” 

you seemed to understand well enough. he would give you what you wanted, in time. you would be patient, holding back the whimpers deep within your throat. you were just about to implode on yourself when he finally inserted his middle finger into your folds, taunting you dangerously. you gasped, unable to keep yourself still as your back arched. your head fell back into his hand, lando’s thumb swirling around your bare neck. 

the straps from your dress fell loose with the motion and you could feel the breeze harden your already taut nipples. his eyes clinged downward at the sight before him, head bending forward to kiss your exposed chest. one of your hands came to clench around his wrist, the other to his neck, holding him fiercely to your body. 

your fingers were thrusted deep into the base of his neck, the fade of his hair. you tugged when his finger curled deliciously inside of you, his thumb– acting so expertly– applied gentile pressure to your clit, toiling with your impetuous lust. you felt exposed to him, putty in his hands, weightless against his body. 

the british driver’s lips were relentless on your skin. your chest was claimed by his tongue, swirling around the top of your breasts, edging you further to a spectacular orgasm. he sucked tight against your skin, but your head raised to meet your lips to his ears.

“no marks,” you requested, but you heard him growl against your chest. his hands flexed– his wrist clutched with your palm, his hand on the back of your neck– the contact with your neck had you breathless, clenching around his singular finger, and he took blatant notice. 

“a secret, yeah?” he confirmed, holding back his groveling tone. the words were bitter when they hit your ears. there was a layered amount of surplus emotions that guarded his heart, held him at arm's length, and he knew it would tear him apart. but now, he focused on you atop of him, and getting you to come. 

“mhmm…” you had to clamp your mouth shut from bursting with a wanton moan. it was too much– the way that he swirled his thumb, how his finger was just the perfect length to bottom out inside of you. your hips moved relentlessly, despite his grip around your neck, and you pushed down on his wrist when it started to become too much for you. 

but lando had other plans. he shook his head, let out a tsk between his lips, and let his ring finger slip into you with ease. you let out another moan, deeper than the rest, but he responded with a tug on your hair. 

with his lips still against your breasts, his motions froze. “quiet.” you hummed a disapproving sound. “want me to stop?” 

you shook your head. “no– no!” 

you could feel his teeth against your breasts, a cocky smile no doubt with how flustered you became at the thought of him stopping. 

“gotta be quiet, love–” and then his lips were back on you, sucking amply at your skin. his head lowered until he captured a nipple between his teeth, letting the ridges toy with your sensitive buds. your head lowered to the top of his as you breathed him in– his shampoo, his cologne– and it didn’t help with containing yourself. 

his pace against your cunt quickened. dual fingers sliding in and out of you with ease, thumb riding aggressively on your clit. you could feel the coil inside of you wringing with heat. 

lando’s lips found your other nipple, treating it with the same voraciousness that the other received. it was beginning to become too much for you. no man had ever had you this way– putty, liquid, melting– beneath his touch. you feared that you’d never be able to have an orgasm again. 

you became antsy in his hands. your grip on his wrist was shaking, your thighs desperately clenching around his waist. he took it as a sign that you were close, and the words fell easily from his lips. 

“gonna cum for me?” his chin rested on your chest, angling to look up at your sweating, flushed expression. your eyes fluttered shut as you nodded. his grip around your throat tightened against the columns. you’d never trusted a man so much to not hurt you. 

“come on, sweet girl, ‘ve got you.” he promised to you, “bet you’re so pretty when you cum.” 

you felt the skin of your lip break into a light gash beneath the weight of your teeth. you’d been so focused on keeping quiet, that you went ahead at your own expense. lando saw the way your eyes opened, and lurched to meet your lips with his own.

the iron upon his tongue didn’t frighten him. perhaps it turned him on in some manner. the lengths that you were willing to go to keep your sweet lips tightened. but as his own tongue swirled around the stinging cut of your lip, you moaned into him. he absorbed the sound, locking it into the expanse of his memories. you had such a sweet voice. he’d never hear something like it again. 

“come on, baby,” he urged you once more, speaking into your mouth. his breath was hot, spinning a knot of thread with your own. you felt him laugh at your oncoming orgasm, taking joy from eliciting such pleasure from you. “let me see how pretty you are.” 

it didn’t take much longer for your orgasm to reach you. you went taut, shaking in his hands, eyes rolling into your head. you swore you saw stars, and that was just from his fingers alone. it had you wondering what his cock felt like. 

your head fell limp against his shoulder, breathing heavily, clutching the fabric of his shirt. you didn’t want to let him go. his fingers laid idle inside of your tightened walls, not wanting to release the feeling either. not with his hand drenched, his pants soaked, and his forehead dripping with his own sweat. his cock had been painfully hard, a pool of his precum seeping through his pants, combining with your own. it was a beautiful, disastrous mess that he’d initiated between you two, but he felt no regret. 

you sniffled against his shoulder, breezing with the cold air, and let your arms wrap around his neck. you hid your face against his body, attempting to bury your embarrassment within him. you had just come on the balcony atop lando’s lap. what fucking world were you living in? you’ve had feelings for him for what felt like a century, and now a dream that you didn’t even know was possible of coming true, came at the palm of his hand. 

lando couldn’t believe it either. you were tucked against his body like a hand to a glove, a perfect fit, breathing heavily, shaking, against his palms. your cunt roared with a beating heat, swimming with the orgasm he had given you. proud wasn’t a word that could surmount to this feeling. 

and he said nothing when he fixed the straps of your dress, gauging a more presentable you. he tucked your hair behind your ears, fingertips loitering on the expanse of your cheek. you smiled into him, coming to raise your head to meet his eyes. 

his eyes fell to your blistering lip. the swollen buds that he sucked the blood out of. his forehead met yours, and neither of you said anything; just a soft breath and heartbeat between the two of you. 

within seconds he took his hand from your cunt, washed his fingers against his tongue, and let it fall to your bare back. you were stunned at the motion, but drool pooled in your mouth. you gawked, openly, just how hot the action was alone. 

lando stood with you in his arms. one hand on the back of your neck, the other cupping your thigh. your legs, whilst trembling, tightened around his waist for support as he took you through the quiet villa. the only lights were the candles that were still burning, but you didn’t see them, your head hiding in the crevice of his neck. he hummed quietly, a rhythm that had your eyes beginning to lull with sleep. 

you heard him open a door quietly and shuffle around the mess on the floor. your room, no doubt. you’d left a pile of clothes as a welcome for yourself when you were picking out your attire for the evening. it didn’t help him, either, by being surrounded by your scent. your perfume, you, it swirled around him, taunting him. dared him to fuck his best friend’s little sister. 

lando bent down to lay you into your bed. you fell against your will, hands still upright for him to fall in. but he just couldn’t let himself. 

he did, however, let his fingers trail across your bare thighs, your knees, your calves, ankles, until he was met with your heels. his hand lingered on the back of your ankle, angling one of your feet upright to slip a shoe off. his fingers moved to the other, placing the expensive pair on the ground. you stretched your hands above your head, falling deep within the pillowy, feathery embrace. 

you stared up at him. your hair messy, dress disheveled, eyes heavy with exhaustion. and he looked down at you, moving forward to let his fingers trail up your sternum, the perks of your breasts. the moment was so quiet. only your breaths and his own could be heard– and maybe the pounding of your heart. 

he looked beautiful looming above you, hovering with a protective, apologetic look. apologetic? what did he have to apologize for? except for a mind-blowing orgasm, that is. 

his hand froze against the place of your heart. palm flattening, he could feel just how fast your heart was racing. you grabbed his wrist, thumb sliding up and down against his veins. he swallowed. 

“don’t know if we should do this again.” he spoke quietly. 

your heart broke. you sat up straight in your bed, confusion written all across your features. you thought that this was something between the two of you. that he wanted you. and now what was happening? did you do something wrong? 

“why?” you asked, feeling tears well in your eyes. you couldn’t help it. the girl inside of you had come to the forefront, her dreams of being with lando being squashed beneath the weight of his words. 

he sighed deep, unable to meet your eyes. he was about to say something before you interrupted him.

“you don’t want me?” 

his head snapped in your direction, almost breaking clean off his spine with just how fast he went. he shook his head, hand coming to cup your cheek, but you shook his affections away. your hand dropped from his wrist, wanting to feel nothing of his heart. 

he spoke your name. twice. three times. you looked back toward him, tears hot in your eyes. “hey.” you focused on his voice. “you know that’s not true.” 

your brows furrowed. “do i?”

his expression dropped. 

he fell to his knees before the side of the bed. an action no man has ever done for you. you gaped visibly, watching as both his hands came to rest upon your knees. he leaned into you. stubble tickling your thighs. 

your name was sweet on his tongue. 

“what would your brother say–?” 

“fuck what he thinks.” you leaned down. 

lando’s head dropped between your thighs, taking a deep inhale of your skin. you shivered, letting your hand rest on the back of his neck. 

“we need t’give it time.” he said upon raising his head. he looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes. the moonlight shimmered through your windows, casting a vague gracefulness of illumination across his tanned skin. 

“how much?” 

lando wasn’t sure. his silence was an answer enough. you sighed, letting your body fall against the bed once more. he lifted himself to sit beside you, placing both hands at your hips to cage you in. 

“hey,” he said to gauge your attention back to him. “we’ll figure it out, won’t we?” 

you wanted to believe him. but you weren’t sure that you could. lando leaned down to kiss your sternum against the fabric of your dress. 

“you still want me?” you asked, voice cracking with your emotions. 

“i’ve wanted you,” he said against your stomach, “since the day you came down in that white skirt.” 

you gasped, head tilting to look at him. that was one of the first times you met him– third, maybe– you remembered which one he was talking about. it was a skirt with little white bows, embellished with threads of ribbon and lace. 

“the one with the bows?” 

“that fuckin’ skirt…” he scoffed with a laugh. you were still floored, but managed to smile. you couldn’t believe his confession, finding it unbelievable. unbelievable that maybe, maybe you had a chance with him. the girl inside of you was squealing, but the woman didn’t quiver beneath him. 

there was a momentary silence between the two of you. but you shifted, moving to stand. lando watched you from his perch on your bed, hair ruffled and eyes red from his own wrought of emotions. you didn’t expect this from him. this sensibility. 

you began to strip with your back turned to him. he watched. silently. 

you stripped of your panties and threw them over your shoulder. lando caught them, still gawking at you. “keep them.” you spoke. “you ruined them.” 

that had him laughing. but he kept them, staring down at the lace material. you threw on a large shirt from your suitcase that reached your mid thigh. you finally spun around to meet his eye, but he didn’t dare move. 

“what?” you asked, his staring becoming more intense. 

he swallowed. shook his head.

“you better go.” you spoke for him as you approached your bed, narrowly dodging him when you threw yourself down. his eyes raked over you, speechless. “lando.” you reaffirmed, bringing him out of his haze. he let out a sigh and stood, hand coming to brace the back of his neck. 

he lingered before opening your door, glancing at the dress on the ground. and then he was gone, shutting your door behind him, before falling to his own bed. you were lucky to find sleep that night, and it came easy with your exhaustion. but anxiety thrummed through your mind, bustling with a pint of rejection. it was so sweet from his tongue, but it hurt all the same. 

lando laid in his bed before he showered. changed. laid in his bed with the thought of you. how did this happen? how could he forfeit a lifelong friendship? it was simple, really. you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever met, and he couldn’t ever let you go. he’s always watched you from a distance. liking your posts, viewing your instagram stories. he was obsessed with you in more ways than one, but that was a secret for him and him alone. 

yet, he couldn’t get max out of his mind. how he would react to him? to you? fuck, the thoughts were brewing a storm inside of his head. the damage had already been done, his heart already thrumming with the essence of you in its wake. you spread through the blood in his veins, latching onto his vitality like a parasite. though he welcomed the thought, the wonder of you overtaking his life. 

that was a thought that he could fall asleep to. and he did, snoring with a good guzzle that had you tossing and turning. 

the morning came and went. you were up early, as you promised max, but took time planning your wardrobe. you wore a bathing suit beneath your choice of clothing, but what was essential was the short, white, skirt that rode mid-rise on your waist. 

the shirt you wore was thin, sheer, a light beige. it had straps that came down to tie a bow between your breasts, and cropped enough to leave heaven to the imagination. for one man in particular, that was your goal.

‘i don’t know if we should do this again.’ 

fuck that. 

you skipped down the steps and were met with max awake bright and early. he had been cooking breakfast, a favorite of yours, and was just about finishing up before he glanced towards you. 

“morning!” came his preppy voice. he was wearing a thin white shirt and swim trunks, ready to take on the day to swim. 

“good morning.” you sat down at the lush kitchen island, max sliding a plate of food in front of you. you dug in immediately. 

“woah,” max commented, sitting down beside you with a cup of tea. “relax. thought we were going swimming?” 

you coughed. “we are.” you continued to finish your food with haste. “just hungry.” 

you heard more steps come down the stairs. but you didn’t turn your head until max did, his eyes brightening as his close friend was approaching.

“mate,” max said, eyeing up lando. “you look like shit. did ‘ya sleep last night?” 

lando hummed with his tired voice, already prepared to go swimming as well. he wore a black shirt with papaya swim trunks. you ogled at him before he looked at you, turning away quickly once he skirted his eyes towards your direction. 

“slept great.” 

you scoffed. 

max and lando turned towards you. the fork in your hands dropped and your eyes widened. a blush creeped onto your cheeks. 

“you snore,” you commented, still refusing to look at him. “you know that?” 

max turned towards lando. “your rooms are next to each other?” the words were poignant, aimed as a remark to the british driver. he simply shrugged his shoulders in response, not finding any reason to engage. 

you stood with your plate in hand, making headway for the sink. from behind, you could feel a pair of eyes heating the plane of your back. you weren’t stupid. and neither was he, knowing exactly what you had done this morning. 

the skirt you wore was a reminiscence of his confession the previous night. it brought back the childlike memories of grade school. a time when life was simpler, and you were just a girl, and he was just a boy. but he knew you weren’t that girl anymore. a woman grown, you were elegant. he didn’t understand how you were related to max, a scruffy rascal, but he was happier for that. 

when you turned on the water for the sink, lando approached you. max had been tending to his phone, scrolling through social media, so he hadn’t been paying attention. lando’s shoulder brushed against your own when you were scrubbing, desperate to say something. 

“you–”

“max,” you interrupted lando, turning off the water and turning towards your brother. lando took a side step away from you, giving you space when max looked up from his phone. you received a side eye from the british driver, his lip curling with pettiness. he saw what you were doing now. was this your form of punishment? 

max responded with a ‘hm?’ “you want me to cook tonight?” you offered, and max glanced at lando, who never stopped looking at you. you saw max’s expression tense. 

“why not. could save us some money, won’t it?” he said, waiting for lando to add on. “right, lando?” 

lando spun around, releasing his tight grip on the counter. he took a sharp breath in, nodding his head in agreement. you watched as a blush creeped onto his face. you bit on the inside of your cheek, but weren’t expecting lando to retaliate. 

he spoke your name, which had your head lifting. “what happened to your lip?” 

you froze. eyes widening. your own lip twitched with a remedy of a snarl, and he bit back, his nose curling with distaste. 

max approached you two, observing your scabbed lip from the night before. “shit. he’s right. what happened?” 

you reached back to clench the marble counter beneath your fingers. “uh–” lando held back his devious smile. “bit it in my sleep, ‘spose.” 

max simply shrugged his shoulders, and headed for the backyard where the pool was. when the door shut, you let out a sigh. lando stepped in front of you, caging you in with his arms. his head dipped to your shoulder, his curls brushing against your cheek. 

“get off me,” you commented with grit, biting your words. lando shook his head, not moving. 

“don’t play this with me,” he said, lifting his head with a deep inhale. you raised a brow at him, having absolutely no idea what he meant. 

“said we weren’t going to do this again, didn’t you?” you made him sit with his words. make him roll in the fucking mud. “we’re not. and if we were–” you shoved his chest with both your hands, which had him lurching backward. he didn’t go far. “i’d fucking win.” 

he invaded your space again, leaning his lips towards yours. you felt his breath again, his scent creeping into your nose. it was like he never left. 

“y’sure ‘bout that?” he said with a light tone, teasing you with the vibrato of his words. you swallowed a lump in your throat. 

but you stood your ground. “positive.” 

lando lingered for a second longer, leaning closer to your lips, and you thought he was going to kiss you out in the open kitchen. “whatever you say.” were the only words he said before he leapt away from you suddenly, leaving your exposed body cold. 

he followed you out to the pool, never leaving enough space between you two. but you had other plans–sticking by max’s side would surely drive him insane. 

so you sat beside your brother all day. in the pool chair next to him. tanning, reading a book, scrolling on your phone– it didn’t matter. it wasn’t long before the rest of your brother’s friends joined everyone by the pool. 

most of them were in the pool by the afternoon. you had made your way to the kitchen, shedding of your skirt and top. left in your swimwear, you wanted a snack. 

in the bowls of fruit you found, you pulled some mango, strawberries, and bananas. you cut them with a knife from the drawer, and put them in a bowl. there was more than enough fruit for everyone, but you took some of your favorites in the meantime. 

the sun was hot that day, and you had forgotten your sunglasses. sunscreen on your head would cause greasy hair, and you didn’t want that. so you searched briefly in the kitchen for any sort of hat that someone left, and you found one. 

it was a papaya hat. with mclaren’s logo, and a number 4 on it. you smirked, bringing the hat atop your head. 

it fit nicely and you grabbed the bowl of fruit. you made your way back outside to the patio and your brother noticed you immediately. he called your name, and you sauntered over. 

lando and his mates had been in the pool playing with a frisbee, but as soon as max had said your name, he was looking over his shoulder. he went speechless. 

with his hat atop your head and your exposed body, he could help but drool at the sight of you. a droplet trailed down his chin, but he dunked the lower half of his mouth into the pool before anyone saw. 

“for us?” max asked towards the bowl of fruit. you popped a slice of mango into your mouth, biting tenderly into the piece before nodding your head. lando swallowed tightly, practically shaking beneath the surface of the water. 

you placed the bowl on the wooden table and stood back as you were met with the onslaught of a crowd of wet dudes. you backed up towards the stairs of the pool, ready to hop in yourself. you thought yourself a genius– having the entire pool to yourself while they ate. but before you stepped in, your elbow was caught in a warm palm.

lando faced you with his bare chest dripping with chlorine, hair ruffled and damp. droplets of water slithered down his cheeks, which you felt tempted to rub away with your thumb, but you retained from stretching out your hands. 

he simply stared at you. and you stared at him. 

then he flicked the end of the cap with his pointer finger and smirked, raising his brows with a teasing fashion. he had the nerve to glance at your chin, narrowing his eyes. you didn’t have time to react before his own thumb came to wipe away a droplet of mango juice from your chin. 

the action was fast, unnoticed by anyone around you. you blushed instantly, freezing in place. lando popped his thumb into his mouth, tongue visibly swirling around the fingertip. he made a humming sound, approving of the taste. 

“tastes sweet.” he muttered to you. he raised his eyes, hooded beneath the glare of the sunlight. “not my favorite, though.” 

holy shit

you thought you were going to pass out. 

with your eyes flared wide, you spun away from him, throwing the hat to the side, and dove straight into the pool. 

you needed to cool off. desperately. and your time in the pool did. when you finally climbed out, max was lounging in the pool chair beneath an umbrella. you joined him in your seat, drying yourself off with your towel. lando was watching the entire time, sitting opposite to max. 

when you finally laid down with the towel of your bare legs, max scoffed at his phone. clearly, he was trying to get your attention. 

“what?” you said, the hat you had thrown off was now back in your lap. 

“look,” max handed you his phone, and you immediately rolled your eyes. it was a picture on instagram of your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. his new girlfriend that he cheated on you with. he was a fucking asshole, and max knew that from the very beginning. 

“ugh,” you groaned, handing his phone back to him. max took it and was about to keep scrolling. 

“what?” lando asked, curious now to see what the two of you were grumbling about. max handed him his phone, but he was still confused who he was looking at. 

“her ex,” max commented with a rumble. lando’s eyes shot up at you, watching your expression shift. lando was now investigating thoroughly, scrolling through this guys posts. he still had some of you up, and it only angered him. it angered him to an unfair degree, feeling the pinnacle of jealousy, although entirely unwarranted. 

“i brought him to a race once,” you pointed out, unable to look at either of them. instead, you settled on the water in the pool. “barcelona, last year.” your arms crossed over your chest. 

lando raised a brow. “he was that leach for leclerc, wasn’t he?” you were surprised that he remembered, but nodded your head. it wasn’t a good memory. he had abandoned you the minute you arrived at the race in search of the ferrari driver, and had to manage yourself alone in the crowds. it was miserable, but at least you got to see a good show. 

“yeah,” you commented with a huff. “fucking asshole.” 

“asshole.” max mirrored you. 

“why did it end, then?” lando was pushing the boundaries, but max didn’t seem to notice or mind. 

though you did. 

you didn’t want to relive the thought. the embarrassment. the entire fucking heartbreak that you pathetically went through. 

“because i was stupid.” is all you said before you stood with your towel, making your way inside without another word. 

max turned to face lando and smacked him on the shoulder. “the fuck did you ask for?” came his harsh words. lando was stunned, not intending to chase you away.

“shit, sorry i–” lando was quick to rise to his feet, though, not even glancing back at max before he chased after you. “i’ll fix it,” he promised before disappearing inside, and max simply shrugged, wondering just how lando could work his wonders. though he doubted he truly could. 

lando called your name from deep inside the villa but you were already half way up the steps. you froze when you heard his voice, stifling back any sounds from your chest. he caught up to you, standing a step beneath you. 

“i’m sorry–” he said, “i was just—”

“just what, lando?” you grumbled, truly not wanting to hear his words. “you wanna know just how embarrassed i was? huh? when i found he was fucking one of my best friends?” 

lando stood there, shocked, coming to hold out his arms for you to fall into. but you didn’t. “i was such a fucking idiot. it was right in front of me but i didn’t believe it. how smart of me, right?!” your voice raised when lando cornered you at the top of the stairs, your back against the wall. 

you couldn’t help but spew emotional nonsense. “oh woe is me, truly, you’d probably end up doing the same–”

lando caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand leaning against the wall. “what did you say?” 

you gulped, not meaning for the words to slip off your tongue. shit. he looked pissed. pissed that you would think so lowly of him. 

“i–” you gulped. “i didn’t mean–”

his hand tightened around your chin. “really? that what you think of me?” no, no, no! you didn’t. you didn’t. you shook your head in his hold, your eyes largening with your emotions. 

“if you were my girl,” lando whispered to you, not breaking eye contact with you once. “you’d know it.” 

but you dared to disagree. 

“what am i then?” you challenged, your voice raising in the echoing halls. “what was i yesterday, a whore?” 

he bared his teeth at you, displeased with what you called yourself. his hand from your chin latched onto the side columns of your throat and your mouth parted with a delectable pleasure. 

“you needed me, yeah?” he was sure to comment. but you didn’t budge. 

“get your hands off me.” you bit out. 

“you didn’t seem to mind yesterday.” 

“clearly you didn’t do a good job for a second run,” the words pinched his ego, though the hand against the wall came to slide around your waist. 

“weren’t you begging for me? or did i make that up?” you seethed at his cocky tone. 

“think you had too much to drink. i’d never beg.” it was a straight lie that came from your lips. he knew it. you knew it. but you pretended to keep your strength. 

“‘touch me, please,’” he mocked in your tone. 

“must’ve dreamed it. thinking ‘bout me, lan?” the nickname was new for him on your tongue and he bristled, along with the blood soaring to his cock. 

“‘more, need–” you slapped your hand over his mouth.

“fuck you.” you hissed. his mouth curved to a smile before he let his grip on you go. 

“we’ll see if you’re lucky tonight.” 

you brushed past him with a scoff and he stood there idly, watching your hips sway side to side. he chuckled at your retreat and you flipped him off before entering your room and slamming the door. you were done with these fucking games, his toying words. he had no right to approach you after finding out about your ex. 

you immediately turned on the shower in your room and stripped of your bathing attire. it was when you were searching aimlessly through your drawer of panties, you remembered that you were missing a pair. 

a smirk grew on your face, and you couldn’t help but feel that you held the power. 

a few hours had passed after your interaction with lando, and he couldn’t help but feel anxious. you were missing from the entirety of the activities around the pool, and he even dared knock on your door, but he resisted. though it tore him apart, thinking about your writhing anger. 

but you, you had other plans. you’d showered off from the pool, taken care of your skin, and taken a nap before you were to get up and make dinner. 

you had come up with the idea for dinner. 

fish. as everyone enjoyed. 

you smirked to yourself as you made your way down the steps. it was quiet, and you heard no churning of others about the halls. it was nice to revere yourself in the solitude of the late afternoon, hoping that you would have the entirety of the downstairs floor yourself. 

you got to work with your scheme and pulled out the fish from the fridge. whatever you were making, you were sure it would be delicious. 

and when the meal was just about done, you heard a strangulated sound of ample footsteps down the staircase. you were just about done setting the dinner table when max soared through the kitchen, aiming right for the pans and pots of ingredients you sniffed.

“woo!” he cheered, clearly delighted with your cooking. the other boys at his side were quick to mimic him, agreeing with his statement. your hands clamped over your heart, showing how happy you were that they were thrilled.

“well,” you urged. “go sit! i’ll bring it over.” 

they didn’t hesitate. beginning to take spoonfuls of rice, vegetables, and the fried fish you whipped up, they were eager to get a headstart. your thoughts wondered where the british driver was, but your thoughts were answered when you heard the last pair of footsteps through the grand foyer. 

you just finished placing the bowls of food in front of the eager boys. they weren’t polite in waiting for everyone to sit down, but you didn’t mind. 

it was an afterthought  for what his meal would be. of course you knew he despised fish. you listened to everything he said when you were younger, years ago, and never forgot. 

you leaned against the kitchen aisle, facing him, and he immediately recoiled at the smell. his nose turned upright, curling upward with his lip, and you saw the sparkle of his canines. 

lando approached you, the stove, and took a glance at what the helpings were. he turned his head over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look, which you returned with a small shrug and a smirk.

“witch.” he uttered, hands clamping around the edges of the countertops, unsure what he was going to fish through the cabinets for. 

“don’t worry.” you said, lando turning to raise his brows. you slid him a bowl filled with greens, vegetables, and a little bit of rice. “plenty for you, don’t you think?” 

you cocked your head toward the empty seat, but he instead took the one right next to you. the bowl in your hands was pungent with sprouts, and even you recoiled. you placed it down in front of him, letting your hand linger on his back. “i’m no dietician,” you said quietly. “but i tried to substitute as much as i could.” 

“thank you,” he said through clenched teeth, fucker. 

you were quaint with your serving, taking enough for your fill, and sat down swiftly. conversation grew between all of the men, your brother included, and you ate in silence. you had done more thinking about your situation with your ex, and recoiled with a sickening feeling in your stomach. lando watched from the corner of his eye, noticing how little you touched your fork with your lips and spun your spoon amongst the rice. 

he knew he said tribulating words. taunted you. teased you. but he did not mean for it to stretch as far as it had. you were twiddling with the accessories on your wrists, barely saying a word the entire meal, and he felt that it was his fault. you’d only gone as far enough to tease him with a full fish basking over an open flame on the stove. 

it wasn’t shameful when he was devouring the meal you had cooked. despite the repugnant smell of fish lingering in the air, your food was…divine. he wasn’t all that surprised, but it was a nice treat to end one of the first full days. 

but the most courageous ideas filled his head. he kept looking at you, staring, out of the corner of his eye. you were entirely blue with your melancholy, and he resented the soured expression upon your beautiful face. he took it as his own responsibility to relieve you of your worries. your anxieties. insecurities. as it was his fault that they emerged. 

it didn’t take long before beneath the table, lando’s hand wandered. he began with a soft graze of your knee which had you sitting up straight, white skirt you dressed in before remaking its appearance around your hips. 

you turned your head to face him, eyes flaring with wonder of just what the fuck he was doing. but his expression stayed nonchalant, undeterred from his conversation with your brother. you decided that you should play the same game, sliding into the roll of uncaring of his soft touches.

though it was much easier said than done. 

his fingers were daunting. restless. he took a break to sip his water with his opposite hand, divulging into deeper conversation as his hand trailed higher. it was then that he spread his palm wide over the span of your thigh, bare, pinching at the skin. you leaned over the table, leaning your head into your palms that were supported by your elbows upon the table. 

you sighed, your other leg jumping up and down. you attempted to listen to whatever they were talking about– football, instagram, the races– but you couldn’t tune in for long. not when he tugged the fabric of your skirt to the side, and let his pinky dance across your folds. fuck. 

attempting to muffle your struggle, you brought your glass to your lips, sipping in promptitude. you leaned back, tucking your chair as far as you could against the table. it finally caught lando’s attention, briefly, when he gave you a once over with a cheeky smile. max caught the action, raising a brow at you, but you simply swallowed down your drink and crossed your hands over your lap. 

your lap, that so happened to house lando’s hand between your thighs. your cunt was clothed by your panties, but you could still feel the pressure of his finger lodging against your slit. 

you wrapped your hand around his wrist, gripping tight with the desire for him to stop, but he would do no such thing. he went as far as using his ring finger to stroke the cotton of your underwear, grazing over your clit as if it were nothing. he circled around your tender bundle of nerves, refusing to leave it alone. 

your second hand came to wrap around his wrist, higher up on his forearm, pleading indefinitely to halt his movements. your thighs clenched impossibly tight around his hand, suffocating him, but it didn’t stop him. it only had him steadfast in his pursuit– to get you to come at this dinner table. 

with your force against his forearm, you were sure to leave bruises of your fingertips in your wake. but you didn’t care. through your tension, he could feel your pleasure. he knew that you would writhe, squirm, but you couldn’t. not here. 

you found yourself trembling. your grip around his wrist softened, lip caught between your top set of teeth. you were lucky that the tablecloth was acting as a barrier between any wandering eyes–though, shamefully, that was the last thing on your mind. 

but right now, you felt yourself coming to a clearing. a light at the end of the tunnel in the name of your orgasm. shit. 

it took only one quick glance around the room to see that everyone was done with their meals. with empty plates, they were awaiting more. and more you shall give, best to get up rather than submit to lando’s toilsome teasing. you couldn’t give him this pleasure. not when he toyed with you, refused to admit to any truths that might belittle his feelings. 

you finally shoved his hand away. it took all the might you had, and it even had his head shifting in your direction. you stood, and he immediately tugged the hem of your skirt down beneath the table cloth. if anyone noticed, they didn’t say a word. 

“dessert, anyone?” 

there was a small rally of cheers, and you smiled. it was the only thing that could get your mind off of lando’s hand between your legs. the flushed expression you wore didn’t wane until you were alone in the kitchen. 

it was ice cream that was for dessert, and that would be enough. you put out some toppings for them to choose from, and returned with the platter. you set it toward the center of the table, and the pickings were gone instantly. everyone had their own serving, side bowl, ready to go. 

but lando waited for you to settle back in before he grabbed a pint of vanilla. he nudged the ice cream scooper towards your direction, a silent indication that had him asking if he could serve yours. you simply nodded, even though your cunt burned with the phantom touch of his fingers. he did that to you in no way another man could. leave you wanting more. sex with your ex boyfriend had been a joke. you never came. ever. you only did when it was at your own hand, your own touch. but with lando…

lando on that balcony, dressed in the pale moonlight. you, his angel, glowing halo of energy illuminating your face, unraveled before him. he doesn’t think he’s ever met such a woman receptive to his touch. he’s fucked girls before, too many for max’s taste–hence his displeasure– but they weren’t like you. they didn’t squirm, whimper, in his hold. they’d moan like they were being televised, recorded, ready to be on a screen play.

you were natural. beautiful. incapable of being anyone but yourself. he admired you for such bravery, commending you silently through the cosmic planes. though you could not hear the words from him, you felt a warmth coming from his direction despite the cold treat being scooped into the dish in front of you. 

he gave you more than enough and smiled. a real one, you caught. it was a break from the humidity, a breeze that was most welcomed upon your skin. fuck. you were supposed to be mad at him, weren’t you? weren't you supposed to plot your volatile revenge for him touching you? 

you were. 

when he settled beside you with his own serving, you were quick to shuffle a bit closer to him. the chair scooted across the floor, a vibration felt beneath his own, and he bristled. what were you up to? you appeared to be happier, a bit less caught up in your own head, and that he could be grateful for. you even engaged in a few conversations with max’s friends. 

they were lovely chaps, truly, but they were his friends. not yours. 

lando was just about to respond to a question that max had asked him, but he coughed on his ice cream, the feeling of your fingertips darting across his crotch taking a huge galavanting surprise out of him. he didn’t know that you had such austerity within you, but it was a welcome discovery.

but your skillfulness was not. 

the outline of his cock beneath his shorts was obvious. you felt the light curve, the tip, the base all beneath your palm. it was an empowering sensation, hidden beneath the table cloth, and lando had to outstretch both of his hands to steady himself. 

“y’alright, mate?” max asked when lando coughed. the british driver nodded beside you, leaning forward. 

“yeah. fine. carry on?” max repeated his question for lando. before he was about to answer for a second time, your hand curled around the base of his cock, feeling full in your palm. your thumb brushed against his tip, smiling to yourself when you felt a light wet patch against your finger. 

he sucked in a tight breath, but answered max with a strained voice. he clenched his jaw tight and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. you knew you were riling him, and it was paying off to see him flustered. 

you continued your stroking motion discreetly beneath the table. the excitement of being caught was perhaps too thrilling, and the presence of your hand against his cock only excited you further. he was big. that was enough for you to be floored. your guesses as a edgy teenage girl were correct, and the woman inside of you purred at the idea of him inside of you. 

little did you know, he thought the same. when his fingers were lodged inside your hot folds, your deathly tight grip clamping around him, he knew that he had to have you. he knew it years ago, too, but just how pretty you were atop of him…how receptive you were to his touch– it was a pillar of pleasure that continued to build and build, until it will ultimately fall. 

until it will fall, and he is deep inside of you. with the outline of his cock embedded in your lower belly he would feel satisfied, with his cum dripping from your cunt, he could find a peace from this torturous lust that overtook every fucking part of his mind. he needed you. carnally. in whatever fashion labeled him as a barbarian, he would hunt you down if that is what you wanted. 

and maybe you did. 

you wanted him to chase you. to fight for you. to appease the teenage girl inside of you that yearned for his affections, his oblivious attentions. you felt that you deserved it for all the work you put in through your teendom. the boys you rejected. the time you gave up to attend his races. 

was that such a bad thing to be wanted? to be wanted above all, by the man of your wonderlike dreams? but was he so dreamy, then, when he glanced at you with his needy, preening eyes when you held his cock so firm in your hand? 

the answer was undoubtedly yes. 

you felt the pulse of his cock against your hand. it was a delectable vibration that beat for you of all people. you felt more than divine prowess gripping his length, such a dirty, lewd, action beneath the table. and none of them knew what you had been doing. how you were affecting him. it was a secret wasn’t it? 

the catalyst for your movements was about to be thwarted when he readjusted his hips in the chair, bucking fiercely against your touch, your hold on his dick. 

conversations around you began to dull down to a minimum. the night was ending, and he felt himself rearing a release. but he couldn’t. not here. fuck. he gripped on your hand beneath the table, shivering, shaking, as he pleaded you with his eyes. they were wide drawn, glossed with a desperation that you needed permanently in your life. it was a face you wouldn’t forget. ever. how he yearned to cum in your hand, but it wasn’t the right time. when would be the right time? 

“since you made dinner,” max began, letting out a grueling burp, “i say we lot ‘ought to tidy up, shall we?” the boys nodded and hummed amongst each other in agreement. they made quick pace clearing the table, and this was lando’s excuse to rip himself free of your devilish hand. though he wanted nothing more than to cum with your sleek fingertips, he had to be nonchalant about it all. 

he cleared his throat when he stood, feigning a quietness that felt unusual, but no one said a word. you smiled to yourself, pulling your hand away back to your lap. it was damp from his precum, sordid with an urge to pop a finger or two into your mouth. and you did. pretending to clean yourself from any residue of icecream, you licked your fingers clean. 

lando stared. unable to take his eyes off of you. he lingered with his hand around your bowl and plate, his breath hitching in his throat. devil woman, he thought. 

when the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher and the fragile ones laid out to dry, you finally stood. you arched your back, stretching your limbs, but felt cold on your cunt. it was the air conditioning that cooled you, reminding you that he was the one to tease you first beneath the table. 

your brother bid you goodnight with a kiss to your cheek, whilst the others thanked you sincerely for the meal. you were grateful to receive such gratitude, but it wasn’t from the man you wanted it the most. 

tucking your chair into the table, you made your way into the grand kitchen. with its tiled walls, marbled kitchen island, lando stood at the epicenter. with a towel in his hand, drying the last few of the dishes, he watched you saunter in. 

his tongue poked at the inner corner of his cheek with a clenched jaw. boy, did he have words for you. you and your actions. how you ruined him at the dinner table whilst talking to your brother of all people. it was like you wanted them to see–

ah

ah

when you joined him side by side, the pair of you said nothing for a moment. but the moment when lando scanned the room front to back, he dropped the towel and grabbed onto you.

he spun you around so your front pushed against the kitchen aisle, your back arching against the palm of his hand. his second went around the front of your throat, pulling your head up to his own. 

“that what you wanted?” he growled into your ear, trembling with his edged orgasm teetering on the tailend of a massacre. “hmm? tell me, baby.” 

you were at a loss of words, dizzied from the grip around your throat. you wished that he would leave bruises. 

then he bent you over the counter, the cool surface eliciting a gasp from deep within you. his hand flexed over your back, scaling your spine. 

“being a fucking tease…” 

“you started it.” you retaliated with a childlike immaturity. 

lando chuckled as his crotch came flush against your cunt. your wet, dampening cunt by the second. the hand that had been latched to your throat moved to your skirt, toying with the fabric. he scoffed, feeling the wetness of your panties. “bet you’re still wet anyways.”

you were.

your face flushed. 

“dirty fucking girl.” he said quietly, a comment to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. you swayed your hips against his, desperate for a flickering sensation of friction. 

“ah ah,” he tsked, landing a slap to your ass. the sound ricocheted through the echoing kitchen. “think you deserve it after tonight?”

you mewled in response, your cheek freezing against the countertop. the heat from your asscheek was enough to satisfy you for the moment, your thighs clenching together. he ogled, head twisting in a fashion that was revered with lust. 

with a fist he made a makeshift ponytail of your hair, pulling your head back against his chest. “hmm?” 

“no.” 

“no?” he’d repeat. you nodded your head, submitting to him without question. he was peeved that you didn’t fight back, but would take your submission with earnestness. but you had other plans brewing inside your head. ones that you knew would drive him up the fucking wall.

but that would come later. for now, you let your head fall backward onto his shoulder, and looked up at him. “let me fix it…”

your whimpering had his eye twitching, lip curling, arms flexing. it was a gut reaction to how soft your voice had become, how eager he knew you were. 

his hold on you loosened, and you took this as your opportunity to spin around and drop to your knees in front of him. you couldn’t help but gape at his thundering cock beneath his shorts, salivating at just the thought of him filling your mouth. 

but he said nothing else, stunned in his place; how could he not be when you regarded him with ardor, quivering hands?

“please…” you said, your cheek coming to nuzzle against his thigh, one hand gripping the back of his calf. he couldn’t reject you like this. not when he wanted you so dearly. 

a hand came to run through your hair atop your head. an nonverbal, encouraging pet. you hummed, making quick work of lowering his shorts, his briefs, and his cock sprung free with vitality. it was red hot, pulsating with blood, beating a bright scarlet for you. it glistened with his own slick for you. 

“go on, love,” he was breathless. “you can take it, can’t you?” 

you nodded furiously, a whine leaving your lips. with your determined fingers, you wrapped them around his base, pumping your hand back and forth. it didn’t take much before he was leaking over your palm, and you let your lips swirl around his tip.

his head fell back in pleasure, fingers tightening his grip in your hair. with his empty hand, he gripped the island to support his weight from toppling upon you. 

he was both sweet and salty, a sensation you’ve never tasted before. you continued your relentless pursuit on his tip until he was wrought with desperation, and let his hips buck forward until he was half way down your throat. 

you groaned in protest, your eyes watering with tears, but took him like the good girl you were. he wanted you, and you wanted him. you could ask for nothing more. 

“just like that, baby–” he stuttered out, voice cracking when you took him whole down your throat. you breathed through your nose. “fuck,” he cursed, your lips puckering, even stimulating him with the top ridges of your teeth. he let out a deep moan. 

“perfect,” he commented, but you thought you misheard him for a moment. “you’re perfect.” 

it persuaded you further–not like much was needed– and sped up your pace. faster and faster you went, guzzling him perfectly. with your other hand that gripped his calf, calm to knead at his balls. that was the moment he faltered, unable to withstand your feverish tongue. he had to bite back his own groans of pleasure. 

“where?” he demanded of you. you paused, but didn’t take long for your answer. he was holding himself back as much he could, his hips bucking down the hot cavern of your throat, but you didn’t relent. my mouth, your actions screamed, and he didn’t think twice.

before you knew it your mouth was loaded with his cum, hot rods of delectable nectar from him. you were pleased, more than satisfied, that you made him cum in just a matter of minutes. 

he pulled himself out of you, letting you breathe. you swallowed, not finding him distasteful, and even showed him your bare tongue. he was panting, attempting his best to catch his breath, but managed a coarse chuckle. 

you gave his flaccid cock a singular kiss before you rose to your feet, bringing his shorts and briefs up with you. he adjusted himself before launching his lips on your own. the remnants of him were prominent on your tastebuds as he swirled his tongue into your mouth. you allowed his strength, making a sound from your throat. 

“taste like me,” he commented against your lips. you beam. 

“must’ve been good, then?” you knew it was. but you wanted to hear it from him. 

he snickered. “guess so.” 

you slapped his chest before breaking your kiss. you glanced up at him one more time before placing a kiss on his cheek, escaping his grasp. he held onto your hand, though, wondering just where you were going. not when he didn’t have you cumming on his tongue. 

“it’s past my bedtime,” you remarked, raising your brows. his own scrunched. “what?”

“let me–” 

you shushed him. 

“on the house.” 

you were gone before he could respond, skipping up the steps, ready to set your plan in motion. he didn’t know what was coming, not yet, but he surely would once you closed the door to your room, and stripped of your clothes. 

you left him there pondering. he was entirely at a loss— you skirting away with ease, high tail with that lacey material– and vanished without another word. it had lando breathing heavily, hands running through his hair. shit, he thought, this was bad. 

in the bathroom of your suite, you twisted the shower on. whilst waiting for it to heat up, you turned your attention towards the open shaft windows that you could prop open. your room is next to mine, lando’s words rang through your head. okay, you thought, game on, right?

you made sure the windows were open at a respectable distance, praying that his own would be too. he liked the cool breeze from the night, pray tell from his times of sleeping in max’s room in your childhood home. 

glancing at yourself in the mirror once, you were betting on this to work. to truly grab his attention, whilst also awarding yourself a release you’d been craving since his fingertips caressed your knee. 

into the shower you went, tilting your head back and letting the waterfall drench your scalp. it was relaxing, more than you anticipated, and your mind was able to wander to other things. like his hands. his toned, muscular arms. his neck, built intensely with strength that you’ve never seen before. in certain lights, especially beneath the italian sun, it bulged outward. you wondered what it’d feel like between your thighs. your fingers wandered along your soaked skin, breasts reacting to your touch, taut beneath your palms. 

lando had just shut the door to his room, shaking off the sweat that dribbled down his forehead. and his windows were open— the curtains swaying back and forth— and he heard your call. 

at first, the british driver thought that he was hallucinating. that he was hearing things from losing it. but there was no denying that it was your sweet siren serenading through the air, wafting against the mediterranean winds. 

a moan had been pulled from you by your own hand. your head flat against the tiles of the shower wall, you twisted until your cheek was firm against the siding. one hand came to rest on the base of your throat, gripping for comfort, while the other trailed downward to your navel, priming at your folds. 

you were swollen hot, but never to the same degree you were on his lap just the previous night. 

it was enough, though, for you to rub against your clit the way you knew your body best. a delicious combination of whimpers and moans trembling through the air. 

lando was brought to his fantasies, unbelieving that they were coming alive before him. he leaned against the windows from his room, hand clenching tight around the ledge, and listened to your whining calls, urging him, tempting him, to knock down your fucking door and fuck you like you wanted him. 

a finger slid easily inside of you. with both stimulation to your clit and your sensitive nerves inside of you, it was heaven. the hot water combined with your punitive thoughts, tracing back to lando, aroused you to a degree unfathomable to any pleasure you’ve ever felt. besides his fingers, that is. 

lando couldn’t resist. his own cock was blistering with heat, again, in just the span of ten minutes. you had just been on his knees for him. now, here you were, a siren within the night, taking him under your bewitching. 

and spellcasted he was. 

with his dick in his hands, he was dripping. your sounds became louder, prominent, for his open window. and he absorbed every droplet you gave him, a man dehydrated of the world’s most sweet nectar. he was greedy, selfish even, and knew then that he had to be yours. he didn’t give a fuck what max said, thought, cared about this moment. it would belong to him and him alone— your saccharine temper. 

he could imagine you there, thinking about just how desperate he was. how you knew what you were doing to him. how he unfolded before your voice. 

you were. 

you thought of his face. how it contorted with pleasure while you sucked him off. you’d remember the sounds he made— whimpers of desperate, wicked nature— that had you curling your finger inside of you, even becoming so bold as to add a second. it should be criminal to think of your brother’s best friend this way, but that thought came and went just as the tides changed. 

lando fisted his cock with the thought of you wrapped around him. hand draped across the ledge of the windowsill, he writhed and seethed from his own daring thoughts of you. your skirt, your pretty eyes, your wondrous nature. he was awed by you, but wanted to damn you to ruin with his touch. it pursued him further, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

surely he wouldn’t, not when he heard his name carry through the air. his name rolling off your tongue. his name in the form of a whimper. 

“lando,” you breathed, loud enough to surpass the stream of the water. and your stomach coiled, reaching an orgasm before you could count to three.

lando had, too, spurring loads of his come into his empty hand. it wasn’t an elegant movement— rather messy and untamed— but that’s how it was when it came to you, wasn’t it? nothing was going to be easy about this relationship he conjured up in his head, but for you, though it’d be worthwhile. 

you went to bed that night with a sleep full of your wildest, fanatical dreams that included lando. whereas he tossed and turned, unable to believe that the girl he knew in his childhood had him wrought with lust. 

the morning that followed was a quiet one. you and the rest of the vacation group of boys were headed out to one of italy’s finest beaches, chartered there by a small boat. you had opted for one of your best bathing suits and cover up pieces, looking outright chic. 

when you arrived at the beach, you stuck closely to max’s side. the entire ride, lando had been stealing glances from you, shifting awkwardly in his seat. you had your answer from your plan the previous night. he heard you. 

good, you thought, crossing your legs over one another. serves him right. 

you’d lay out your towel on the white sand. your brother joined you, laying down a few feet from you along with some of his buddies. lando kept his distance, knowing too fucking well that’d he’d pull some feral shit in front of you and your brother. 

some of the others opted for surfing. with their boards ready from the rental shack, they were catching waves with ease. you watched from your upright position, lathering yourself in spf. 

“what’dya think of chris?” your brother asked you. you turned your head, wondering what he was implying. chris was one of his good-natured, all classic, sweet boy friends. you’d known him for a good majority of your life, but never…really thought of him. 

“he’s a good guy.”  

lando was sitting up now. listening. 

“well,” max shrugged, taking your nonchalant answer with grace. “asked me if it was okay to give him your number. think he fancies you.” 

your expression dropped. chris fancied you? in what universe could he, when he couldn’t even manage a conversation with you. you weren’t even sure he could ever muster the courage to look you in the eye, for that matter. 

“and…what did you say?” 

max looked at you with his sunglasses on. you saw your reflection in them. 

“think it’s fine. ‘e’s a good lad. nice. well-mannered.” he emphasized his last point. was that a jab at your previous boyfriends? “besides…i wanna see you happy.” 

it was touching, truly, that your brother cared for you on such a protective level, but you didn’t need him meddling with your romantic life. not when the man who consumed your sexual thoughts sat a few bodies next to you. 

your eyes drifted to find lando’s. he was already glaring, sending sharp daggers your direction. he heard it all, and was about to combust with jealousy. you could see it. you’d use it. 

“maybe.” you brushed it off, but found chris in the waters. he was just coming out from the sea, and you thought this was your perfect opportunity. 

you jumped to your feet, sunglasses on, and tore your cover up from your body. you didn’t look back to know what lando’s expression was— worshiping. 

chris’ head popped up when he saw you approaching him. he shifted a bit, as if he were preening his feathers. 

“catch any good ones?” you asked, your feet touching the water. chris cleared his throat. 

“some,” he gestured to the large waves. “current is strong today.” 

you edged further into the water until your knees were covered. 

“you looked good out there, at least i think so.” you managed a smile, not entirely opposed to his company. your brother had been right. he is a nice lad. you should at least build a friendship with him, shouldn’t you? 

“really?” he was shocked. “you were watching?” 

you nodded with a hum, and continued further out into the blue waters. chris took this as an invitation and dropped his board high up on the sand and followed you in. he wasn’t as built as lando was, but you shouldn’t even be making the comparisons. 

you stopped when the water was just beneath your breasts. water seeped in through your top, and you noticed that chris’ eyes caught on the fabric. typical. 

“what do you do for work, then? are you a student?” you managed a brief conversation with him. chris met you at your side. 

“business student in scotland,” he confirmed, but he wasn’t all cocky about it. you thought that he’d boast, but he didn’t. “yourself?” 

you told him your plans. he was impressed that you’d accomplished so much at your age. 

and your conversation with him went on, but not without the darkness of lando’s envy over your shoulder. you’d taken a few glances over chris’ shoulder to see his reddened expression, watching the pair of you share a few laughs. 

he wanted this day to be fucking over. he wanted you in his bed. and he would have it one way or another— whatever it takes. 

arriving back to the villa that evening, your brother and his friends wanted to go out clubbing. it was around 8pm and the sun was beginning to set, though you didn’t feel like a night out. the sun had gotten to you, and you were rather tired. 

“you’re sure you don’t wanna go?” max asked you in the foyer, waiting for the rest of his band to go along.

“i’m sure. besides, i could use a night in.” your brother respected your choice and didn’t push you further. before he left with his friends, he did turn and leave you with one comment.

“lando’s here, too, in case you need anything.” 

and then he was gone, tailending with chris flashing you a smile. 

shit. 

shit, shit, shit. you knew you were in for it now. there was no way that you’d escape lando for the evening, unsure how he caught notice that you’d be staying in for the night. 

when the door shut and the house was empty, you raced up to your room. you’d worn a floor length slip dress when you’d gotten home, but wanted to change and lock yourself in for the rest of the night. but your situation changed drastically when you reached the first step, and saw lando leaning against the staircase from the top. 

“just you and me, yeah?”

you gulped, taking a few steps back. he looked furious yet unbothered at the same time. 

“what to do, what to do…” he began to saunter down the steps when you moved back. “in this big, empty house…?” 

he trailed after you all the way until you were on the balcony. he slipped out from the sliding door, watching as you were frantically nervous in his presence. you had no idea what he was thinking, watching you all day flirt with chris. 

your back was against the stone balustrade, hands spread wide to support yourself. your heart was racing, but you wouldn’t let him see that. wouldn’t show him the effect he had. 

lando wore a black ln4 shirt from his collection, along with tan sweatpants. it was an understatement to say he didn’t look fucking good. 

he donned a cocky smirk as he closed the distance between the two of you, leaning into your space. you felt his breath on your cheek. 

“he’s a good lad, innhe?” 

you met his eye— his blue, green eyes that were swarmed with a darkness you didn’t believe him capable of. 

“he’s nice.” you said, referring to chris. because he was. he was respectful. 

“‘he’s nice.’” lando mocked, scoffing. he turned his head to the side to look over your shoulder to the coastline that surrounded the villa. 

“yes, he’s nice.” you bit back, brows furrowing. “more than i can say for you.”

lando’s expression froze, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. his jaw tightened as he processed your words, foot tapping against the stone. 

“yeah? you don’t think i’m good to you?” 

whatever this was…you loved it. you craved him. needed him. there was a zing of electricity that ran down your spine, electrifying your cunt. your thighs tightened together and you shrugged, playing him off the best that you could. 

he tsked, tilting your chin to meet his eyes with his index finger. “we’ll see.” 

and then his lips were on yours. ravaging. starving. he was a man that has been deprived of you for far too long— twenty four hours— without your touch. it was maddening the way he was obsessed with you. how you infested every corner of his mind. you, you, and more you. 

you succumbed to his kiss with ease, your tongues battling between one another. he tasted of espresso, whereas you tasted of the apple liquor from the boat. 

he won, ultimately, a hand coming to wrap around the back of your neck. your own latched to his shoulders, another going for his hair. you tugged on the strands, eliciting a groan from him that you wished to hear over and over, time and time again. you were sure that you would, not daring to ever let him go. you had him surrounded.

his tongue lathered over yours, dripping saliva down your chin. it was messy, intangibly so, but you’d have him no other way. you wanted him like this, uncontrolled, pining, for your affections. you had him in the place you wanted, and he had more in store for you. 

he broke the kiss with a string of saliva connecting the pair of you. your eyes heavy with desire, his own mirroring the same. his kisses traveled to your jaw, your throat— but he sucked feverishly against the skin, surely to leave bruises. you gasped when you felt his teeth puncture through the top layer of your skin. “marks—” 

you reminded him, but he didn’t care.

“fuck what they think.” 

you melted where you stood. his hand came to wrap around your lower back, angling your hips to brush against his. he was already hard, you could feel it, but you were sure that you were dribbling too. 

his relentless pursuit of your neck didn’t end there. when he met the fabric of your dress, he pulled the straps down with ease, your breasts falling free. he ogled at your mounds, saliva dripping from his chin. it was, perhaps, the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. not the waterfalls of france, not the cascades of lake como— but this, right here— lando norris drooling on your chest.

“what would you do with ‘nice’?” he mumbled into your skin, attacking one of your perked nipples with his tongue. you gasped, biting your lip to retain a moan. 

“he could treat me well,” you seethed through clenched teeth, gripping the strands of his brunette curls. you felt him vibrate with a hum. 

“you’d eat him alive.” he chuckled, switching to your other nipple that was blistering with heat. your entire body radiated like the sun, but did no good beneath the moonlight. “what would he do—” a nip of his teeth against your nipple, you jolted, hips bucking forward with an anxious pension for friction. “with all of this?” 

you were at a loss for words, drowning in his sweetness. 

“let it go to waste…” lando dropped to his knees with a hand still firm on your back, the other raising the hem of your dress. he tsked, cheek flattening out against your thighs. he separated them with the strength of his neck, looking up at you from the bundled fabric. “a shame.” 

you agreed mercilessly, nodding your head with a whimper. it elicited a laugh from him. 

with a singular finger he pulled down your panties. the cotton was thin, as if you knew this would happen. they slid down your legs and you kicked them away. 

your hand was still threaded at the base of his neck, continuing to tug at his strands. it’s how you told him you needed him, but that wouldn’t be enough. not for lando.

“what do you want?” he asked, looking up at you from his seated position, face wedged between your legs. you gaped at him, breathless and flushed. 

“your mouth—” you pant, but before you could finish he licked a long stripe down your folds. “god, fuck—” 

“not god,” lando corrected. “just me, baby.” 

“lando, lando…!” you whined, back arching for a better angle for him to reach. he responded, humming against your clit, sending throttling vibrations up your navel. he was so fucking good. how? how could a man treat you in such a way? 

finding your writhing adorable, he finally let his tongue swipe past your entrance. the sensation was indescribable, but you knew that you needed more. and more he was willing to give, burying his face into your cunt. 

your honeyed cunt that he was addicted to. he knew you’d taste like heaven, but this was all the more holy than he could fathom. 

with his face buried inside of you, you were sure to see stars. here, beneath the moonlight of the italian villa, you were ethereal. he could steal glances up at you. your contorting face, toiling with passion. passion that he drank from the source, sucking you dry. 

his nose applied pressure to your clit— the perfect combination— and you knew that you weren’t going to last long. not with his jean paul scent invaded your senses, his thick hands cupping you so perfectly. one hand kneaded at the flesh of your thigh, the other swirling circles on your lower back. it was perfect. he’s perfect. 

“please, please,” you didn’t know what you were begging for. 

lando hummed, feeling your cunt clench around his tongue. he curled inside of you, teetering you upon your edge, and you were just about to let loose when he pulled his head away, leaving you trembling. 

he stood with ease, as if he wasn’t just devouring you, and you reached out for his hand. you were about to reach the peak of a mind blowing orgasm, but he denied you. with your hand wrapped around his, he knew how this would end. his lips came to your ear. 

“you were right,” he huffed. you felt his retentive anger. “don’t know if i’m nice.” 

he tugged you along through the house, hand upon your back steading your shaking stance. too impatient to help you up the steps, he swooped you into his arms bridal style. you gasped with a giggle, reflexive from his actions, and he burst open the door to his room with his shoulder. 

he dropped you onto his bed, ripping off his shirt in the process you propped yourself up on your elbows, gaping clearly at his tanned, toned skin. he smirked down at you, coming to hover above, and stripped the dress clean from your body. before him, you were bare, naked, more exposed than you've ever been with your brother’s best friend. 

you went to cover your chest, clamp your thighs shut, but lando refused. he trapped your wrists above your head, knee coming to separate your legs. you wiggled your hips hopelessly for friction, still wading heavy on your lost orgasm, but he didn’t let you graze his thigh. 

“you’re being mean,” you whined, attempting to twist out of his hold. but you didn’t prevail. 

lando’s lips met yours with a kiss of depravity. he pulled away, but you chased him, your head leveraging from the bed. 

“am i?” 

one hand left the hold on your wrists to touch your cunt. you were dripping down your thighs. he brought his fingers to his lips, wiping them clean. 

“think you like it, love.” 

you hissed when he took his hand from you, but relaxed when he kneaded one of your breasts. he was in utter reverence of your body, your beauty. you eclipsed all things that shined bright in his life, you becoming the epicenter. 

his pants were off in the next second, thrown to the corner of his room. his briefs, too, and his cock danced freely from its entrapment. your mouth watered. 

“this what you need?” his tip teased your entrance. your eyes rolled back into your head with a frenzied nod. “yeah? think you can take it?” 

“yes, yes! i can, i can, please lando…” your hand latched around the back of his neck, the other to his shoulder. 

it didn’t take him much convincing to surge forward, agonizingly slow, until he has inside of you. you choked on your breath, the air ripped right from you lungs with how he stretched you. it was alike no pleasure you’ve felt— his fingers, his tongue, all works of mastery— but you feared that nothing could compare to this. not when his hand around your breasts drop to your cunt, rubbing voracious circles against your clit. 

he let you adjust, waiting until you shook your hips from side to side, and bottomed out. it was surreal how you ended up here. but you wouldn’t go back. not for a second. not when his dick inside of you ripped through you with such passion, such love, you were inclined to imagine. 

lando’s own breaths were wild. erratic. he had to halt himself from slamming inside of you, your tightening, wet walls gleaning him of any morals he had come into this villa with. 

“move,” you urged him, breaking him free of this torment. his eyes flared wide. “need you to move.” 

need

such an all encompassing word that would drive him mad. 

he listened to you without hesitation. his hips slapping in and out of you with a heavy, dangerous pace, he never wanted this moment to end. it would feel like this every time he fucked you— the first, starstruck time— and that would be enough for him to lay to rest in an early grave.

both of you were a mess of moans, sounds of skin on skin echoing through his bedroom. the moonlight casted a white haze upon the pair of you, your eyes shimmering in the reflection. he was lost in it, in you, how seraphic you’d become in just the few days he’d been around you. how undone he became. he was a lost cause the minute you made a jest to him at the dinner table. 

his chest lowered to yours for a better, sweeter, angle and it had you screaming. your nails cut through his back, leaving reddened scratches against his tanned, freckled skin. he loved it. it had his pace quickening, and his hand working harder at your clit. you were close, he could feel it. 

feeling the way you began to tighten around him, how you became barely lucid beneath him. “so good,” you mewled, finding no other words but to praise him. 

“nothing compares,” he groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck. “you’ll be mine then, yeah?” 

your heart surged in your chest, but your breathing remained the same. you were too fucked out to truly resonate the meaning behind his words. 

“yours, yours,” you repeated over and over until you were sent over the edge. you screamed his name, cutting through the air, cutting through him. he was left a sopping mess with his quivering hips, sloppy pace. you knew he was going to cum, too, when his teeth grinded together, and he let out a guttural moan. it churned your insides, swishing your heart through. 

he came inside of you. you felt it, the heat from his cock. but he made no effort to move. you didn’t want him to. 

the pair of you laid atop one another in his dark room. panting. catching your breaths. in unison your hearts would align. sweaty bodies melting against each other. 

his head was buried deep into your neck, breathing you in. you soothed him, just as much as you riled him to no end. 

“did you mean it?” you asked, voice hoarse. 

lando hummed. 

“about us.” 

you felt his teeth break into a smile against your skin. he raised his head to look at you. “i did.” your breath caught in your throat. “don’t give a shit what max’ll say. we’ll figure it out, won’t we?” 

you nodded in agreement. your brother would simply have to deal with this. he’d get over it in time, you’re sure, and it would be the best for both of you. no longer would you yearn at a distance for a man you thought didn’t spare you a second glance. no longer would you dream of this moment materializing before you. it had become a reality, and there was nothing more that you could be grateful for. 

he wanted you. lando wanted you. and you wanted him the same. it was one of the first times in your life that you felt safe. comforted in a newborn relationship. 

it wasn’t long before lando pulled the covers of his sheets over the two of you, holding you tight as you shifted into the shape of his body. you were a perfect fit, a missing puzzle piece that he’s been searching years for. 

and now you were here, sleeping soundly in his arms. 

lando had found sleep, too, his soft snores carrying through the room. you and him paid no attention to the fact you were sharing a bed. if anyone walked in, then they walked in. you were at peace, and that was enough.

sooner rather than later, the party-goers for the evening arrived home. they attempted their best to be quiet at such an odd hour, and decided to retire. max and chris went out to the balcony, however, and decided for a small chat. 

but before that could even commence, chris noticed a piece of black fabric loose on the patio. he stared at it from above, brows raised.

“mate,” he called max over. he met him at his side. 

“this yours?” he pointed down at it, and his face went ghastly white. no fucking way.

“motherfucker.”

tags ; @landoslutmeout @basicallyric @mybluesoul1 @toriiez @customsbyjcg-blog @sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

[whirlybirbs]

— THE FOOL ; KYOJURO RENGOKU ; 煉獄

summary: all you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside to the ubuyashiki mansion's onsen. pairing: kyojuro rengoku / f!hashira!reader wc: 3.6k tags: set-pre season 1, rated T, hashira dynamics, kyojuro's impeccable manners, tengen uzui is a son of a bitch, good fluff, embarrassed flirting, slightly forbidden romance, retable reader insert who just wants to be left alone to bathe in peace a/n: don't look at me.

Your bones are tired. 

Not just your bones — but every ounce of marrow in those very bones. The expression 'bone tired'? Yea, it was written and smithed with you in mind. Tonight, you're the muse for true exhaustion — battered, bruised, and barely hanging on. 

The short walk up to the Ubuyashiki Mansion's onsen is proving formidable. 

Every muscle in your body aches and with each step closer, you pray you'll have a moment of quiet peace to yourself. After all, Shinobu insisted (read as threatened) that you soak in the hot spring after administering simple medical aid post-mission. 

Something, something, hot spring stimulates blood flow, blah, blah, strong healing properties.

All you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. Here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside through the willows of wisteria on a lantern-lit path to the hot spring.

Your geta catches on a root and you trip up, scoffing tiredly as you catch yourself and grumble a curse. Ow. Irritation simmers under your skin, and you wonder absently what's gotten into you. 

It normally takes more for you to be so... cranky. And openly so.

When you reach the gate of the onsen, your eye twitches.

Son of a —

There's Hashira abound tonight. 

"Look who's back from her little foray out East!"

Did Tengen need to be so loud? 

All the damn time?

The small, dimly lit spot is surrounded by wisteria and maple. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you sigh and shut the red gate behind you, paying careful mind not to catch your fingers in the latch. Lanterns are perched on rocks, candles only beginning to run with wax in the evening air. The open-air bath overlooks the sprawling estate down the mountain. 

You sigh deeply from your chest, your eyes practically at half-mast when you turn around to snipe Tengen with an unamused look.

"Our dear Dream Hashira... you look like shit," comes the rogue commentary, "No offense, beautiful."

Tengen is at the far edge of the steaming bath with both arms outstretched along the edge. As always, he's taking up as much space as humanly possible. His silver hair hangs about his shoulders — and he even goes so far as to pin you with a rogueish smile. You stare flatly at him in response.

Then: the middle finger. 

"Woof. Tough crowd tonight," he rumbles as he slides a look towards a decidedly uninterested Sanemi. The Wind Hashira has his head hung back against the edge with a towel over his forehead — his eyes are closed. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was asleep. 

"Tengen, do me a favor," comes the gritted reply from the scarred man, "and shut the hell up." 

You motion plainly to Sanemi — the gesture says thank you — with your brows raising in silent agreeance. Even the act of speaking right now is all too much. 

"I must agree with Tengen," comes the wistful and soft voice of Muichiro Tokito as he lifts his chin from its submerged position; his hair is swimming about him. The Mist Hashira looks... almost peaceful; but his words are damning, "You do look like shit."

Somehow it's worse when Tokito says it.

That makes Sanemi lift his head and pry one eye open. 

You serve him an unenthused look from your spot by the benches. You hope for a bit of sympathy, but instead:

"...What the fuck happened to you?" comes his dry response to your current state of being. 

Which — fine, maybe it's fair. The others rarely ever see you in any state aside from perfect. You're meticulous about your appearance; from your uniform to your posture, you value perfection over all else. The devil that has always haunted you is the details. Perhaps it was your rigid upbringing, but regardless—

"Ah!" suddenly, there's a resoundingly warm voice booming across the small courtyard from the onsen's koshitsu, "I see you've returned, Lady— Oh... my, are you quite alright...?"

You've got to be kidding me.

Kyojuro Rengoku's face is twisted into genuine worry. He's standing in the middle of the path, his focus entirely on you. His hair is undone and the sunburst strands are spilling along his chest and back. There's a small cotton towel slung around his narrow waist. You purposefully level your eyes with his, not daring to let your gaze waver — and then you curse Kocho Shinobu a thousand times over for sending you here.  

(Tengen is smirking. You want to throw your sandal at his head.)

Finally, you speak. 

"I'm fine." 

You don't sound fine. You sound like a woman who'd endured being unceremoniously whipped about by a snake Demon in a swamp for three hours before she could finally land a killing blow. 

Kyojuro frowns. His eyes — like two gems of carnelian — are nearly glowing with concern. Those dark brows of his knit and you try to grit out a tight smile. It fails. It looks more like a wince than anything.

It's... pathetic.

"Perhaps a soak will help," the Flame Hashira offers gently. His tone is soft with pity.

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Fucking Shinobu, fucking hot spring, fucking swamp demon, fucking—

Right. Right, a soak. It's the thing that Tengen Uzui is somehow singlehandedly making more unbearable — he's dragging Sanemi and Muichiro by the necks from the onsen — by leaving you alone with Rengoku. 

"Go on you two! We're just leaving anyways, right fellas?"

"Die," you spit hoarsly in his direction; your expression is flat.

Tengen throws you a wink. "Relax a little, pretty. You deserve it!"

You could still hit him with your geta. Maybe if you put enough force behind it, it could kill him. 

After all, he's been doing this ever since you let it slip about your little crush. 

And just when a girl thinks she can trust an ex-shinobi... never again. You don't care if Tengen is the one offering to buy the sake, you're never drinking with that man again. He's a gossip and a whore. A gossiping whore. A devoted husband-whore who gossips like no-fucking-other. 

Admitting to Tengen Uzui's stupid face that you've been avoiding Kyojuro Rengoku because of your feelings was the second worst mistake you ever made.

Your first worst mistake was not dragging your sorry ass back down the mountain after you and Kyojuro were left alone in the onsen. 

At least — at the very least — it's quieter now, even if the silence feels oddly intimate. 

You're thankful Kyojuro has retreated into the water of the bath; the distance allows you to ignore the burning pit in your gut at the thought of him and you together. In the onsen. Alone.

You've bathed alongside the other Hashira before. The whole lot of you are warriors. There's no shame in the body — and admittedly, you grew up around konyoku onsen in Tokyo. 

It wasn't the nakedness that was the problem. 

...Maybe it was a little bit of the nakedness. 

But, mostly the fact it's Kyojuro Rengoku: the kindest man you've ever met, a man whose smile is nearly as bright as the morning sun, a man whose laugh feels like a summer thunderstorm. A man who is tall, strong, and handsome. It's no small secret he's well-loved among the ranks; respected, admired, sought after... Who wouldn't make an attempt atcatching his eye? After all, he's capable, swift, courageous, honorable—

Having a heart attack.

He's having a heart attack.

I mean — it's you. And him. Alone. 

...Naked. And alone.

He himself could have strangled Tengen when the ex-shinobi scurried off, leaving him here — though he'd never admit it. That sneaky bastard is fully aware of Kyojuro's feelings towards you, and Kyojuro swears the Sound Hashira gets off on forcing him to confront the very thing he forbids himself to even dwell upon. 

Your voice pulls him from his enraptured internal monologue.

"I am fine," you break the silence as your fingers work at the obi around your waist in nervousness. Your back is to him, and as the grey kimono slips down your shoulders, he panics, "I swear."

"I'm not sure I've ever seen you in such a state as this," he tries to sound level, confident, as he turns in the water; suddenly the mountainside is very beautiful. Yes, very nice. Very... mountain-y. 

Kyojuro's eyes flick over his shoulder briefly, back at you.

He sees skin. More of your skin than he's ever seen. There are dimples at the base of your spine. Good god. He swallows tightly and turns his gaze forward once more. 

Even the act of shrugging your kimono off is enough to make you rasp. The ribs Shinobu had been so concerned about are protesting now. It's fine. Everything is fine. You peek over your shoulder. Relief floods you as you realize Rengoku's back is turned. 

Quickly, you slip into the onsen. It's the quickest you've moved all night. 

You plunge in deep, ignoring the burn of the water along of the more raw marks and bruises bitten into your skin. Your ribs wail in protest as you inhale sharply at the heat, and you try your best to coach your expression into unwavering when Kyojuro turns back around. 

"Better?"

All you can do is grunt from your submerged position.

That makes him laugh.

You try to memorize the warm sound and tuck it neatly into your heart. It's cute, the way his eyes scrunch when he laughs. You find yourself staring for a second before swallowing down your affections.

"Shinobu demanded I come," you explain slowly, lifting your hands and playing with the surface of the water, "If I had it my way, I'd be in bed."

Or murdering Tengen in his sleep.

"The hot springs are good for healing," Kyojuro chirps brightly, canting his head as he speaks almost as if he's going to reprimand you. His voice drops an octave, "You know that, Lady Hashira."

He's teasing you.

He's — he's seriously teasing you.

You're naked and he's teasing you.

You sink a little lower into the water and narrow your eyes at him — the act makes you look a bit like an angry, wet cat. Kyojuro can only grin. Truly this is rare form for you. Your disposition is usually sunny, if not well-manicured and mindfully well-mannered. You are every bit a Lady Hashira. Moreso than Shinobu or Mitsuri in a way. 

You are the Dream Pillar, after all, and a woman composed purely of romanticism in his eyes. It's the way he could see you, in another life, in a fine silk kimono and delicate make-up; he could see you in gold and pearls, pouring tea worth more than his monthly salary into fine ceramic cups. Suitors abound.

Though, perhaps that's not so different than now.

Not with the way you're delicately pouring yourself a helping of Tengen's abandoned sake at the edge of the onsen. You'd think it was the most expensive liquor in the land with the care you take to not spill a drop. 

You slide him a hesitant look over your shoulder, the water lapping at your bruised back. Kyojuro lifts a brow.

"What?" you ask, feigning innocence as you turn back to the task at hand, "It'd be a shame if it went to waste."

"I didn't know sake had healing properties," Kyojuro offers slowly, his lips twitching upwards as he watches you take a long sip from the cup.

"Something, something, blood flow," you murmur mostly to yourself, tossing back the rest with a scowl and a wince, "I'm sure Shinobu would agree."

Kyojuro leans back against the wall, sinking a little deeper as he settles onto the seat beneath the water. The ends of his hair are soaked, turning an even darker shade of crimson. His shoulders flex as he relaxes his arms against the stones. 

His own body is tired. Beneath the water, he absently stretches his legs and pays careful mind to the twinge of pain in his left knee.

"Whether she agrees or disagrees is none of my business," he supplies diplomatically.

You reach for the jug, giving it a light shake. It's nearly empty anyway. 

You extend it, offering it to Kyojuro.

The Flame Hashira shakes his head. "No thank you. I reserve drink for special occasions only."

You quirk a brow. Your tone is light. Airy, almost. "I didn't know that about you."

He hums. You place the sake down, sink lower into the water, and try to focus on his face — not the strength in his forearms, nor the water running in rivets down his chest. 

"My father has quite a love for the stuff," he admits with a controlled frown, "I avoid it when I can."

Ah. 

Right. 

Your own father, also a retired Hashira, voiced many a feeling about Shinjuro Rengoku when he was given the chance. You'd visited home months ago and when you mentioned serving alongside Kyojuro, his eyes narrowed dangerously and impeccably sharp. His tongue lashed out at you — as if you were the retired Flame Pillar himself. 

There's a history there, it seems.

"I apologize."

"Don't," he says; firm yet soft.

"It is better that way, really," you mumble in an attempt to soothe the ache you can see across his face, "Liquor leads to making many a fool."

Kyojuro's brow quirks. "You sound as though you're speaking from experience."

"Perhaps," you say slyly, wandering to the far end of the pool. You're nearly submerged to your nose, "A lady shall never tell."

"And if I asked Tengen?"

"You wouldn't dare." The water splashes as you whip around and glare — though Kyojuro senses no real malice. 

It was no small secret you'd been dragged through the mud after you and Tengen's night on the town. Why the Master called a meeting that morning was beyond you, but there's a part of you that wonders if he was slightly amused at your less-than-pleasant state. You swore you were going to puke all over the engawa when you bowed — never mind the fact the morning sun's brightness was enough to nearly drill your brain into a pulp. 

Kyojuro had never seen you so... disheveled. 

Second to tonight, that is.

The Flame Hashira smirks. "If the lady forbades it, then who am I to ignore her wishes?"

Fucking Tengen, fucking Shinobu, fucking Kyojuro—

Fucking honorable, respectable, polite Kyojuro.

"Well, this lady does forbade it," you say with narrowed eyes, "So there."

"You really are in rare form this evening."

He's smirking. That's new.

"Yes, well," you mumble as you lull your head back and wet the rest of your hair; the warmth seeps through the strands and feels soothing on your scalp. You already feel better. Less like a swamp demon's plaything, more like a girl trying her best not to let her petal-mouthed feelings slip out, "We can blame Muzan Kibutsuji for that."

"I surmise it has been a difficult day?" he rumbles quietly from his spot in the onsen.

"You haven't the slightest idea."

"Care to enlighten me?" 

"And embarrass myself?" she mutters, splashing absently, "I'd prefer to remain capable in your eyes, Rengoku. I'll spare you the details. And anyone else who asks."

He's grinning. That sort that appears in an optimist's dream. Bright, sunny and so enrapturing it feels like your heart is being scorched by its warmth. 

"Your capability will never waver in my eyes," Kyojuro supplies as he flicks the water absently; his gaze has fallen to the sway of the wisteria in the evening air, "You are amazing. One particularly bad day does not diminish that fact."

Maybe it's the sake. Maybe it's the compliment. Either way, the tips of your ears feel warm. 

That little, nibbling feeling is back in his chest. The very one he's been trying his best to ignore for months. 

"You are only being kind," you mutter, "Because, as the other's made very clear, I look like shit." 

Kyojuro finds himself smiling a bit at the jest — his fingers glide along the top of the water, tracing��idly patterns into it as he watches you sink deeper and deeper into the hot spring. Finally, for a moment, you descend below the surface.

Then, you break the surface slowly. Your hair is swimming around you, clinging to your bare shoulders. You exhale, brush water from your lashes, and inhale. You look... beautiful. A different sort of beautiful than he's used to. This sort of beauty is relaxed. Tired. You seem a bit freer than usual — unrestrained by the image you aim to keep well protected amongst the others. 

Kyojuro sinks a little deeper himself.

He's still watching you.

Your eyes find his. 

There's a moment where all you two can do is blink — Flame and Dream mingling for a breath beneath the stars. Wide eyes bound by a moment of silence, a moment of hesitation. He feels like all the breath has been swept from his lungs. All Kyojuro can do is stare into your eyes.

Then, he speaks.

Blurts, more aptly.

"You are beautiful."

...Did he just say that? 

Your lips part in quiet shock.

Suddenly, his posture is more rigid, and his expression a bit panicked — perhaps because your own eyes widen a mile at the words that spill from his mouth. Kyojuro raises his hands as he inhales sharply, the heat of the bath inching a degree hotter. Whether it's from the sudden admission or a misfire of his breathing technique, you're unsure. 

His cheeks are hot. He leans forward, shaking his head.

Damn you, Tengen. Damn you, damn you—

"I-I simply mean — you... You do not look like shit—" He attempts to explain.

"Oh—"

"Yes, yes, I—"

"Thank you," you say quickly, trying to calm your own racing heart as he swallows down a bought of embarrassment and offers a pained smile your way. It's enough to quell his panic.

"Of course," he breathes out, sagging a bit deeper into the water as he fiddles with his hands. He has a habit of rubbing at his callouses. Kyojuro swallows, then hoarsly admits: "One might think that I was drinking the sake with the way I'm making a fool of myself."

Your laugh is like a balm. 

"Hardly," you offer as you sink into the water with a smile; your eyes are glimmering with something a bit mischievous as you swim towards the water's edge. You pause, then slip a look his way over your bare shoulder, "...Do you mean it?"

"That I'm a fool? Of course."

You scoff quietly. Kyojuro's smile is tight — knowing. 

Then, he speaks warmly and kindly. He confirms your question with ease. His arms are wound across his chest. "You are truly beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever had the grace to lay eyes upon, my Lady." 

Maybe you could drown yourself here. 

You're not entirely sure how you'll ever recover from this — not from how tender he says it, not from how honest his words sound. So suddenly you feel as though he's hung every star in the sky for your eyes only, having wished upon them, time and time again, for nothing more than a moment of your time. It's reverent is what it is.

You're about to open your mouth and say something when a bright, girlish giggle cuts through the tension—

Kyojuro Rengoku has never been more thankful for Mitsuri Kanroji's ill timing. Behind her is Lady Shinobu. 

The pink and green-haired Hashira is ecstatic to find both yourself and Rengoku in the hot spring — her delight is palpable as she waves her arms and cheers brightly into the air. Her crow caws overhead. Her darker-haired counterpart levels them both with polite smiles.

"Oh, this is just lovely! My friends!" she's chirping as she closes the gate, "I am so glad to see you both back safe and sound—"

"Heading my advice, it seems," Shinobu says slowly — almost like she knows something you don't. Her pale, lilac eyes flick between you and Rengoku. For a moment, you almost suspect she's about to ask something.

"How are you feeling?" Mitsuri cries in your direction, shrugging her kimono off with ease — unbothered entirely by Rengoku's presence. The two are like brother and sister, and Mitsuri has never batted an eye about nudity, "How are your ribs?"

Kyojuro levels you with a look. 

You offer a sheepish grin. 

"Yes," Shinobu mutters as she slips out of her geta, "Four broken ribs."

Kyojuro's nostrils flare. "You said nothing about the sort."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I told you I was sparing you the details."

Mitsuri's bright eyes dart between the two of you — a little bit of giddiness blooming at the sight of Kyojuro looking so worried about their fellow Dream Hashira. 

He slides a look towards Kocho. Then rolls his shoulders. With a sigh, he moves to stand, the water lapping at his waist. You decidedly find the edge of the onsen very interesting as you try to coach yourself through the overwhelming urge to stare. 

"I trust you'll monitor her condition, Kocho," he murmurs as he moves through the water; the words sit nicely in your heart and you feel a little pride swell at his indication that he cares if you're alright, "I'll let you ladies have some time amongst yourselves."

You catch his eyes for a second. A moment. A lingering little breath that mingles between you — like Kocho and Mitsuri aren't there. Then, he stepped from the bath and gathered his robe.

For now, the two of you will pretend earlier never happened.

For now.

Just a little thing between the two of you — and suddenly, you're not so cranky. Once the muse for exhaustion, you're now the muse of lovesickness. 

When the gate closes behind Kyojuro, Kocho speaks.

"...What was all that?"

Nevermind. The crankiness is back.

"Shut up."

[hxney-lemcn]

Congratulations on your 2k! I love your writing so much. I can't t get enough of them! For my request, can the character be Leona. Have a great day, you're amazing! <3

Genre -🌹

Tropes: 🍂🥂

Prompts: 🫥👀🤭

a/n: haha...so funny story...I might of forgotten to add the fake relationship...but you could pretend??? 😭😭😭 Sorry about that, but this is still super fluffy and a bit chaotic :)

tw: none.

wc: 0.4k

2k follower event | master list

You eyed the lion who laid not too far from you. He had been more irritable as of late, glaring at you and snapping more often than not. It had been getting on your nerves. If you did something to upset him he should talk to you about it instead of huffing and throwing a tantrum like a child. Every rude remark chipped away at you, little by little, close to showing the ticking time bomb that was you. Sure, you would use yourself as the butt of a joke or insult yourself from time to time, but you weren’t going to let Leona, your friend and crush, throw insults at you when he felt like it. You had a modicum of self respect. 

“What are you staring at?” Leona huffed, his emerald eyes squinting at you. “Something on my face, herbivore?”

Ignoring his question completely, you asked, “Why are you mad?” 

“I’m not mad,” Leona waved you off, rolling over to face away from you.

“Err!” You made a loud buzzer sound, causing his ear to twitch and him to eye you in annoyance. “You’re lying. You’re acting like a kid who got denied v-bucks.”

“Tch,” He grumbled, letting his anger overpower his rationality. “I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

“What?” You asked astounded, blinking in confusion. “Who the hell did I kiss? I think I’d remember something like that.” Once again, the prince averted his gaze, muttering under his breath…was he embarrassed?

“That stupid lizard,” Leona finally spoke up. Racking your brain, you tried to remember anything that could resemble a kiss that happened between you and Malleus, but none came to mind. Had there been a rumor maybe? Or maybe he overheard a conversation between you both that sounded like it led to a kiss? You weren’t sure, honestly, you felt like you were reaching with the last one. Whatever it may be, Leona had clearly made up a scenario that never happened. 

“Okay, one, I haven’t kissed anyone,” You held a finger up. “And two, why would I kiss Malleus? We’re just friends and I don’t see him romantically. And three, why the hell would you care…unless…”  As you trailed off with a smug grin, Leona swatted at you, a sharp snarl thrown your way as you laughed.  “OMG! Does the big tough Leona have an itty bitty crush on wittle ‘ol me?” You teased, dodging his swipe, but still getting into his face.

“I can’t stand you,” Leona sniped, glare sharp and if you looked hard enough you could see his cheeks turn a dark red.  

“A weird way to propose, but the answer is yes,” You grinned brightly, tackling the lion in a huge hug. He let out a groan, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“You better be serious about that.”

[hbyrde36]

STWG Daily Prompt 3/9/24

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild

Prompt: Bite

Rating: G | WC: 867

Emotional hurt/comfort, Steve Harrington's parents being the worst, the best uncle Wayne Munson, supportive boyfriend Eddie Munson, the party loves Steve Harrington

Steve had given up on his dad long ago, he was never going to be the kind of man Richard Harrington had always wanted his sons to grow up and be, but he’d held out hope for his mom—hope that someday she would learn to love him the way she loved his brother.

More than ten years between them, and the fact that the Harrington’s had moved to Hawkins only after Christopher had graduated high school and gone off to college, meant no one really knew Steve had a sibling. 

The party, Robin, Eddie—especially Eddie because how could they have been dating for over a year now and him somehow still not know about this—were all stunned to learn of the existence of another young Harrington.

He hadn’t meant to tell them at all, but then Christopher and their parents made a surprise visit home so that his brother could take possession of their grandmother’s ring and pop the question to his girlfriend of a whopping 9 months. Less time than he and Eddie had been seeing each other and didn’t that get under Steve's skin to know he’d never get to propose to his boyfriend with a family heirloom, not only because gay marriage wasn’t legal, but because his parents would never dream of handing down a piece of jewelry to their least favorite son.  

Steve wound up having to make the rounds, letting everyone know movie night was canceled because his brother was in town. Naturally they all wanted explanations for why this was the first they were learning of this mysterious person, and by the time he got to Eddie’s place, Steve was a mess. 

Years of mistreatment and neglect bubbled to the surface, and not just the big things but the little sniping comments, the small injustices—inequities between the way Mr. and Mrs. Harrington spoke of their older son vs their younger—hurt feelings that he’d pushed all the way down in order to function, in order to put a fucking smile on his face and hide the fact that he was damaged goods who not even a mother could love. 

It all came spilling out of him on Eddie’s bedroom floor as his boyfriend held him, rocked him, was his rock, tethering him to the earth.

When it was all over and Steve was calm, Eddie asked him why he still spoke to them, why he still lived in their house when he and Wayne had both–on separate occasions–invited him to live with them instead.

“They’re my family.” Steve said, shrugging. “I don’t have a choice.” 

“Of course you do, Stevie. You always have a choice. If you were to decide right here and now that you never wanted to see or speak to them again, you are allowed to do that. You hold all the power here. I’ll support you in whatever you decide, but I have to say in my humble opinion, they never deserved you.”

Steve took the night to think about it, though in the instant Eddie had said the words, given Steve the power to take control of his own life, he’d known what he was going to do. It was his life, he could do with it as he wished. He was already doing that with almost every other part of it, so why was he still letting his mom and dad hold any power over him? Why did he subject himself to their passive aggressive comments and disappointed glares?

In the end he never went back, not even to get his stuff. Wayne and Eddie did it for him, leaving behind his keys and his beloved car. 

A small price to pay for freedom. 

He called the next day and left a final message on the answering machine. 

“Please leave your message after the beep.”

“Hey mom. You’re the hardest one to say goodbye to, the last member of this family I held out hope for so you’ll have to forgive me for not doing this in person. My car keys are on the table by the front door. I know the BMW is in dad’s name and I know he wouldn’t want me keeping it under the circumstances.”

“I am no longer a Harrington. I’m sure you won’t mind because you barely thought of me as one to begin with but it’s official now. I’m moving on, and moving in with my boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend, because I am nothing if not a consistent disappointment.”

“It took me longer to see it with you because I've witnessed the way you care for the people around you, most of them anyway, and what you’ve done for this community.”

“You are a good person, except when you’re not. And you were a great mom, just not to me.”

There was no bite in his words, just a sad truth finally spoken aloud.

Steve hung up the phone feeling lighter than he ever had in his whole life, and sat down to dinner with the people who really loved him. His found family, who’d all dropped whatever they were doing at a moments notice to throw him an impromptu moving-in party at his new home with Eddie and Wayne. 

Thanks to my beloved @penny00dreadful for having a look over this 🥰

[silaslich]

Whispers to cold flesh

Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Wc - 2.5k

Summary - Ghost and Soap get separated and Ghost seeks refuge from the snow storm in an abandoned house. Just when he thinks he’s alone, he finds you there - bleeding to death.

Cw - 18+, blood, injury, death ideation, angst

AN - didn’t really know how to tag this because it isn’t xreader but more just angst I had worming around my brain :)

The chill runs down to his bones. It seeps into his bone marrow when the wind shifts and the snow falls heavier.

Ghost isn’t that used to this; not these days. Maybe back in England when he was young. Everything from those days is locked away, a ball and chain clamped around that particular box of memories, thrown into the sea until it sinks to the ocean floor.

Forgotten

He slams the door behind himself with a resounding thud and it shakes the walls as the snowflakes fall from his shoulders, melting away to droplets on the floor. Ghost’s eyes scan his surroundings, a constant vice he had engrained into him now, even if he’s out of enemy territory- he’ll never let his guard down.

It’s the same now as he scans the rooms, one by one. Footsteps as quiet as he’s able, sharp eyes watching for any sign movement as he listens closely. All he catches is the wind whistling outside, rattling the structure of the building, as far as a rendezvous point goes - he’s seen worse. He’s waiting on the irritating Scot now, everything is tied up on their end, knotted in a pretty bow for the higher ups to deal with, he can wash his hands of it.

Soap had become separated at some point, his usual efforts of running in blind and taking a handful of men with him as he went, Ghost had stayed back to watch and observe, held up on his sniping point further up the snow-laden valley. He hadn’t been needed after all, they got what they came for, now it was a case of waiting it out for evac to come.

He’s walking through what looks to have been a kitchen, littered in dust and debris, years of unkept rot and decay taking hold of the once decadent foundations of this home. Abandoned and forgotten, Ghost knew that feeling.

As he’s scanning the walls and the dark corners, his eyes land on a slick smear against the dirty wooden floorboards. It’s fresh, he notes. Then he can smell it, the blood, copper pennies - sour in his nose. Instinctively, he raises his pistol.

Ghost lowers his shoulders and steps forward, he’s even quieter, eyes scanning as he follows the trail of crimson that soaks into the floor under his boots. As he nears closer, that’s when his ears catch it, the rattle of breathing, heavy and uneven - laboured in a way that sounds like a punctured lung. He steps fully around the corner of a kitchen island, gun raised and eyes narrowed, he expects to find an injured fugitive, one of the war criminals that’s somehow slipped through his fingers.

But it’s just you.

So weak from blood loss you can’t even raise your eyes to meet his. It’s a haze, a blur of movement when he steps even closer, it’s only the vibration of his footsteps that make you aware someone is there.

Your chest rattles with an intake of breath, stunted when you hack up blood into your palm, it doesn’t feel like you’re walking away from this one. Too many lucky strikes - you’re finally out.

Ghost cocks his head to the side, then he’s kneeling down closer, sliding his pistol back into its holster as he does. “You with me, mate?” He keeps his voice low, he doesn’t want to startle you, he can empathise with you in this moment, he’s been there himself, too many times to count.

He’s seen you around. Ghost is observant, it’s his job to be, there’s been a few missions that you’ve been on together lately. He knows you’re a marine, been on the circuit for years now. You’ve toured here, there and everywhere. You’ve only spoken to him a handful of times over a cigarette or an MRE but he knows you by name. Surely that’s enough. No, he knows where you were born and why you joined up, he knows where your favourite place to vacation is and the name of your first pet. It’s not enough, it’s too much. He can’t keep allowing this to happen, to get close to people and then watch them die, it’s something selfish that worms it’s way into his head - he doesn’t know how long he’ll keep being able to do this.

You raise your head from where your chin is tilted to your chest, your eyes drift lazily across his face, a realisation of who he is settling over you, he sees it. “‘m compromised Lt” you slur, coughing again, “looks like you’ll have to put that letter through” your teeth are cherry red when you smile weakly at him, he can’t find the strength to enjoy the quip.

You’re referring to one of the last conversations you’d had with him, asking him how he deals with the aftermath of a particularly unsuccessful mission. “You have to let families know?” You’d asked and he’d nodded, “sometimes” he breathed the words around the plume of smoke from his cigarette, side-eying you, “depends how many, if it’s a lot then I help out with the reports”. You hadn’t thought about that kind of responsibility from his role, something you’re not sure you’d want to do yourself.

He looks down at you, assessing the damage, he finds your hands clutching at your side, a steady stream of blood seeping through the seams of your fingers as you apply pressure. It’s as if you sense what he’s about to do or say and you stop him, raising your hand to block his in its path, it’s path to pry your hands away from your wound so he can see it. He dips his chin and meets your eye, a warning, but you don’t heed it. “Leave it” you huff, still struggling for breath. “I can’t fix it if you don’t let me look” his tone shifts, perhaps lighter, this looks bleak but he’d remembered to try his best at being positive- forever a pessimist.

You laugh, albeit dryly and with effort, “no fixing this, mate” your red teeth flash again and Ghost doesn’t know where to put his eyes, they’re fixed on the injury and then flicker back up to your eyes, watching them waver. “Don’t say shit like that” he gruffs, shifting his weight, he’s even closer now, eyes still trying to asses the damage despite your blocking hands.

If he’s being honest- he’d probably agree. At the rate you’re bleeding and have been bleeding at, he’d give it no more then two minutes before it’s lights out, blood loss is a nasty thing and it takes only minutes for it to become fatal. So it’s why he doesn’t forcefully pry your hands away and let him look, in other circumstances he might have done, but he doesn’t know how long you’ve been here for - and he can’t imagine it’ll be much longer considering how pale you’ve grown in the last minute he’s been here.

You hum. It’s almost a contented sigh, he guesses it’s the delirium stage, when the pain finally begins to flatline and the body tries it’s best to make light of the losing fight. You slide your head to the side, big glassy eyes looking in his direction, not meeting him directly. “Do me a favour?” You ask, your voice little more than a hum, eyes drooping lazily. He has no room to deny you, you’re dying, so you could ask him his opinion on mass genocide and he’d humour you until it was time.

Ghost has been around enough death in his time now to know how it goes. He’s seen people bleed out and get blown up, drown or be burned alive, there isn’t a lot he hasn’t seen or dealt with. He’s glad that this’ll be somewhat peaceful for you, of all the ways to go, this is perhaps the least gruesome in a military setting, he can’t confirm it’ll be painless for you however.

He nods his head despite his words, “depends what it is” it’s empty but it makes you crack a smile, with whatever strength you can muster, you extend your hand to him - crusted and wet with the slimy and congealing blood from your wound, when he looks from your hand back to your face, you simply wag your fingers at him. “Hold my hand” you’re still smiling, halfheartedly, but he just shakes his head. He slides his gloved palm across yours and he’s surprised when you clamp your fingers tight around his, mustered strength from a reserve you’ve hidden somewhere out of sight.

He looks at your connected hands and squeezes back himself, “can’t tell anyone about this when we get back” he smiles beneath the mask, it’s solemn - empty. You tilt your chin at him with a knowing air about the motion, there’s little emotion left in your features now, too tired and far gone for it. “I won’t tell anyone” you slur, looking at him, “I promise” the last part is whispered with what he can see is a slight smile. He squeezes your hand again, “good on ya”.

Reality cracks when the sound of the door almost snapping off of its hinges makes Ghost leap almost six feet in the air, he’d let his guard down a little too far and he’s quick to raise his rifle toward the doorway, leaving your hand cold as he stands over you, protective despite there being no real need to be. His finger threatens the trigger but then he lets the tension wash from his shoulders when he hears that familiar Scottish twang.

It’s Johnny

He steps into the room with his hands raised mockingly, stupid cocky smile plastering his face, “alrate, Lt?” The light in his eyes dims and his toothy grin falls when he notices the blood staining the wood he’s standing on. He hadn’t noticed you straight away, blocked by Ghost almost entirely. Ghost steps to the side as if in answer to the question, no- he’s not alrate.

Soap raises his brows, “steamin’ Jesus” he whispers, footfalls immediately carrying him quickly toward you. “Y’okay mate?” He asks quickly, running through the same motion as Ghost had only for you to clock him too. You hiss when his hand lays over yours on your abdomen and you attempt to jerk away, “leave off will ya’” you spit, brows pinched together in pain and frustration. Soap looks wounded by it, no one denies his offers of help, not the bright Scottish lad with a grin too wide and a humour so dark.

“Wouldn’t let me touch it either” Ghost rumbles, watching as you glare at Soap. There’s one thing about Johnny, he rarely takes no for an answer, “come on now” he speaks softly, laying a hand over your thigh so you’re not startled by the touch. “Let me have a look at it, please” his accent loosens and so does the pinched tightness of his face, Ghost watches as you consider the Scot, ultimately reaching the same verdict. You shake your head, “no point, Soap” you knock your head against the cabinet you’re propped against, “I’m done in”. You seem to genuinely believe this is it, to bleed out on a dirty safe house floor in the middle of rural snow-clad Europe.

Johnny swallows. “Either way, if you let me look I can either help-“ he cuts himself off, perhaps looking for a better way of wording whatever he was going to say “or I can be here with you” it’s an offer of his hand to hold or his shoulder to lean on. Ghost has seen it time and time again, he’s been on both ends of it, either thinking he’s the one who’s time is here or watching and waiting as someone dies in his arms. Despite the strength and bravado these men feel obligated to front with, it boils down to the same thing, no one wants or deserves to die alone.

You close your eyes and fight with yourself as you nod. It seems fair, even if you’re going to die, perhaps give them the piece of mind that they tried to help you. It’s why you don’t react when Soap springs into action, he’s cutting away the layers of your clothes around the area, fishing through his med-kit for gauze and tweezers, he’d try his absolute best.

Ghost watches it all unfold, how you don’t even flinch now, not even when Soap pokes around in the wound as he digs for a bullet he’s not even sure is still in there. Ghost doesn’t cringe, he’s seen people blown to bits, but it’s the fact that you don’t react that concerns him more then the squelch of your insides as Soap roots around in there.

It’s only a few seconds before Ghost hears something small and metallic clank to the floor, he watches the bullet roll away in a trail of fresh blood. “Got the wee bastard” Soap triumphs under his breath, you stare lazily at nothing, Ghost steps closer to examine as Soap begins to stitch the wound back together. He’s never been good at it himself, he’s stitched himself up before and a handfuls of others, they always healed deep and ugly - so he tries not to do it if he can get away with it.

His gun is hung hazily in his grip, hanging off the strap that’s over his shoulder, he’s watching Soap work intently until he feels the strap shift against his body. He stiffens but he doesn’t move, his eyes fall to you, watching as you wrap your fingers around the barrel of the rifle and lift it to sit against your forehead. Soap stills completely, eyes darting from you to Ghost.

“Put me out of my fucking misery” your voice barely carries, it’s hoarse and weak, close to dissipated. Ghost meets your eye, gaze glossed over as you stare at him - stare into him. He can’t shift it.

Soap pipes up, “bleedings stopped, pal” he interjects, “yer gonna be fine” wether he’s convincing you or himself - no one’s sure at this point.

You don’t drop your hold on the gun, nor do you drop Ghost’s gaze. “Just spare one bullet for me - please” he watches as the tears fall, smearing through the blood and dirt smearing your face, cutting through like sharp spines that travel over your cheeks.

He replays it over and over. Days later.

Watching as you sleep, wrapped in bandages and starchy white sheets in the medical wing, fed painkillers through a needle in your arm - over the worst of it all thanks to Soap.

It rattles Ghost. Not because it had been gruesome or particularly unpleasant of an encounter, it doesn’t come close to some of the shit he’s seen in his time.

He’s rattled because of just how close he had been to doing you a favour and putting a bullet in your skull.

All for the sake of not having to see you in such pain anymore.

[huexuri]

shower sex with tyun. JUST SHOWER SEX WITH TYUN, BUT LIKE- it's soft. you're both in the bathtub and it all starts with you saying you heard that sex in water is more pleasureable... and now you're sitting on his lap with his cock deep inside your cunt. it's really soft tho, nothing crazy. just you moving up and down on his dick while he's bucking his hips back up to yours...

anyway... whoever said i wasn't gonna write a fic about pure smut w taehyun was totally lying

⋆ why don't you join me? (fem!reader x tyun) ⋆

NSFW, MDNI

warnings: fem reader, shower sex, cock warming, pet names, friends to lovers trope

wc: 2k something....

you and taehyun are panting the way up the stairs to your shared apartment after going to the gym, drenched in sweat as both of you are carrying each of your heavy equipment.

despite all of that, you were staring at him the way up the stairs,, face flushed red and wet hair drooping over his eyes, outline of his abs glistening through the transparent material of his wet singlet. exactly how you'd envisioned him when he's ramming your pussy balls deep, the pretty sight of his mouth slightly agape and telling you how good you're doing and what a good girl you are for—

"hellloooo??? earth to my bestie???????" taehyun snaps his fingers in front of your face, mid-way up the stairs when he notices you daydreaming his way.

"oh,, nothing. sorry, i'm just exhausted after that and staring into thin air. it's a habit of mine.." you continued to walk up the stairs with heavy breaths, your headphones dropping to your neck. with each step, you judge yourself for thinking this way about your best friend, your housemate. you don't think you've ever told him how much you like him, just because he's always so unnerved and chill about everything, that you can't tell if he likes you like that or not.

taehyun doesn't say anything, but judging by the smug look on his face that wasn't there just a few flights of stairs before, he probably knows what you're thinking of.

-

both of you reach the front door and throw your bags on the floor, sighing.

"i'm gonna take a shower," taehyun says, carefree and walking into the apartment before you could even suggest taking a shower first.

"wait, but i—... nevermind," you respond, discontinuing your own words because you know he's probably more tired than you are — even if you look like a literal sweat fountain.

taehyun stopped in his tracks the way to the bathroom. he sniped his head your way and looked at you, raising an eyebrow.

"you wanted to shower first?" he continues.

"ahh, no no— it's okay, you probably need it more than i—"

"why don't you join me?" taehyun cuts you off.

"what?"

"why don't you, join me, in the bathtub? it's nothing weird, unless you want it to be." taehyun cleared his throat.

"um—"

"it's fine if you don't want to though, no pressure." taehyun then turns his head back and walks to the bathroom nonchalantly, not looking for an answer.

you're left just standing there as he makes his way to the bathroom, in pure confusion as you take the time to process his words — taking a bath together? won't it be dirty, weird? what did he mean by "unless you want it to be"? you guys are friends, though? wait, what?

snapping out of your thoughts, you sigh and collect yourself — you think, he did suggest it himself... it won't be weird... right? you do really need this shower right now, and he does take like an hour in the shower, as if he's cooking a full course meal in the bathtub. you can't possibly wait that long, drenched in your icky sweat, right..??

hesitantly, you sneak up the bathroom door when you already hear water running, filling up the tub. you knock on the door, towel in hand and all.

"hey.... can i come in?" you asked.

"give me a sec," taehyun replied.

after what seemed like 5 minutes of the sound of fabric rustling, he finally opens the door and you're met with the sight of him, shirtless and only in his boxers, scrunched down almost mid thigh, which looked like he was about to take them off.

you slowly step in, trying not to stare at his abdomen and below,, he was already so big and he wasn't even hard.

you step in cautiously and lock the door behind you. he simply just stands beside the tub, staring at you with a blank expression as if he was waiting for you to go in together.

you try not to push anything further though, and undress at your will, trying to avoid looking back at him.

you take off your sports bra hesitantly, looking at taehyun who totally looks like he doesn't mind if you flashed him. with delicacy, you threw your bra onto the floor, the cold air brushing against the surface of your breasts and you squint at that.

taehyun, still staring at you, now from his nonchalant expression to a slightly nervous expression that you could easily look through him. you can tell he's trying not to budge or anything, but you don't bother him about it.

awkwardly, he takes off his boxers and walks into the half full bathtub as he waits for you to enter.

you also take off your sweatpants, now only in your panties, you slowly shimmy it off of you and try your absolute hardest not to stare at his length as you walk into the bathtub, both of you fully naked and facing each other, sitting on each side of the tub.

it was weird that you both have never seen each other naked before, so this was quite embarrassing for you.

at first, you both don't say anything but exchange mixed looks to each other, once in a while you catch him staring at your breasts and once in a while he catches you staring at his abs and below.

finally, as you're pumping soap onto your fingertips and lathering it all over yourself, taehyun stops in the middle of reaching for the soap behind you, and he breaks the silence.

"you're pretty, you know?"

"oh, um," you stutter, your ears gradually glowing a red hue.

"it's okay. i'm just saying the working out paid off." taehyun smiles and grabs the soap bar beside your items.

"i'd say the same for you. i mean.." you said, then slowly slid your hand under the water to feel his abs, getting more comfortable being together in a tub together.

"hah, thank you. i did work really hard for that." taehyun giggles a bit, proud of himself at your words.

you could notice his cock slowly growing semi hard under the water, maybe from the compliment you'd given him. you try your best not to say anything, you didn't want to embarrass him. but you can sure say that he's... really big, even when he's not fully hard. you couldn't imagine how he was when he was fully erect. it did feel like at this time though, that your secret fantasies about him were finally coming to life.

after a achingly long 5 minutes of you both exchanging glances in comfortable silence as you both do what you both need to do, you break the silence again, with a rather.. awkward statement.

"i heard that sex in water was more pleasurable, i don't know though." you blurted out, avoiding eye contact with him once you realize what you'd actually said to him. you promised not to make this weird, but how can you not when he visibly grew almost hard???

there was a awkward silence of 5 seconds before taehyun replies.

"why don't we try it now then?" he muttered, the edge of his lips turning up ever so slightly.

your eyes shot back at him, your nipples growing hard.

"come here." taehyun says with more confidence now that he sees your nipples perk up like never before.

was this really coming true? the man you'd been masturbating to for the past 6 months suggesting to fuck you?

you slowly crawl to the other side of the tub towards him, soap washing off of you itself.

his cock now fully erect, longer and thicker than ever, brushing against your thigh as you're now face to face with him, his wet hair dangling in front of his eyes, just like how you'd thought of him earlier at the stairs.

"taehyun.." you sigh, not even sure about what you're calling him for.

"yes, baby?"

you shiver at that pet name, this being the first time he's ever called you that.

"c-can i.."

taehyun grabs your hips and positions it right above his cock, as if he knows exactly where to insert it.

"go ahead." he smiles at you, genuine as ever.

as you lower down on him, the feeling is weird — the water swishing inside the gap of your gummy walls and his girthy length, spurting out with air bubbles as you finally sit down on his lap, him fully inside you.

"so pretty, s-so tight even in water.." taehyun grunts, almost moaning in your ear as you lay your chin on his shoulder, his big veiny hands on your pretty pair for support.

"tyun, i'm gonna move okay?" you sigh, barely pronouncing your words.

taehyun nods and you rise your hips again, now angling your pelvis so that when you lower on him it hits your g spot.

you slowly sink down onto his lap again and his tip brushes against your g spot for at least a good 5 seconds. oh my god, sex has never felt this good in your life and you've barely started.

with a heavy sigh, you start to increase your pace. taehyun holds on to your hips now and helps you bounce on him. it feels so... much better.

"tae, taehyun.. am i doing good?.. haa... fuck.." now you're hugging him around his neck, head lifting up to look at him in his big puppy eyes, glistening and sparkling, struggling to answer.

"shit, what kind of a-aa.. a question is that.." taehyun sighs, his lips slightly apart as he tries to catch breaths.

"you're doing so good right now.."

you smile as you still bounce up and down on him, hips now rocking to the sloppy rhythm that's coming from the both of your hard work.

"y-you know that i... i.. fuck—i play with myself to the thought of you? a-and it's finally... hh.. aah.. finally coming true.." you whisper in his ear, sending goosebumps throughout his entire body.

"do you, now?" taehyun grins, and suddenly he bucks his hips up, making you moan.

"ah—shit!.. tae!!"

"do you now, hmm? finally—coming true?" he coos and bucks his hips up once again, slightly more aggressively in a teasing way.

"mmh,, taehyun... more, more—fuuuckk...~" you say in between sighs, your tone more thin and seductive. you'll do anything to have him in this position with you again. now barely bouncing on him, you're rolling your hips and using his cock as if it's a joystick to hit all of your pleasurable spots. you could tell it turned him on so much more than it should've, because now his hips are stuttering beneath you — his sighs jittery and his head thrown back with his mouth wide open.

"shit, s-so tight, what a good girl. what a gooood—fuckin' girl...." his voice thick and lower than usual, he smiles at you, no longer genuinely but desperately.

"close, close, fuck,," he barely voices, so soft you could've missed it.

"fuck, i'm cumming tae." you swiftly say, your grip on his biceps harder than before.

"can i? can i? baby?" he warns.

"it's okay, pill.... fuck, cum,," you mutter.

taehyun wastes no time jutting his hips up, tip hitting your womb each buck, and with one last thrust, you feel heavier at your core as taehyun winces beneath you, sighing, squeezing your tits harder than before.

it's your turn to climax, where you lastly bounce up and down on him, whining and tears welling up at the corners of your eyes, heavily breathing with your mouth opening wider and wider, and—–you spill all over him, barely distinguishable underwater.

your head falls back on taehyuns shoulder. both of you hug each other as his cock slowly pops out of you. holding each other in an embrace for what felt like eternity, you finally broke from him and started to lather the rest of the soap all over him, giggling and sighing.

you both don't say a word during that, just enjoying the new found comfort of the both of you as you finish each other up.

stepping out of the bathtub together, wrapped in each other's towels, you never thought that today would end up like this..

but you don't regret it one bit.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Your robin and franky fic was chefs kiss but would you be willing to write some solo franky?? Im really into water 7 franky and would love to see what you’d come up with !!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING FOR THIS! YALL I promise you any time anyone requests a Franky fic I WILL BE WRITING THAT SHIT. This is my dream man and no one gives me enough opportunities to write for him! So, I'm sorry I turned this into a smutty nightmare if you wanted fluff... I just need to service the Fellow Franky Fuckers out there.

Pairing: (pre timeskip) Cyborg Franky x Fem!Reader

WC: 2800

Taglist: @generaldaij0bu you might need to see this

Summary: The Sunny malfunctioning is driving you up a wall. You make a request for repairs and end up getting way more than you bargained for in the workshop.

TWs: ROBO-BONING, BABES! P in V sex, unprotected sex (pls don't) sex toy use, forced orgasm, safe words, light bdsm, communication is key and Franky respects it so hard and he's so hot for it, very much dirty talk...

Too Hot (+18)

— — 

It was hot. 

The sun beat down on the Sunny all day and the unwavering heat was barely dispelled after sunset due to the humidity. You lay sprawled on the deck next to Usopp and Chopper, groaning in the unbearable heat. 

“I think I’ll die here…” Chopper groans with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. 

“I can’t believe I’m going to burn to death after all the horrible monster’s I’ve fought… it’s not fair!” Usopp moans and wipes his brow. 

“Just throw me overboard at this point.” You sigh. 

“But don’t you have devil fruit-“

“I DON’T CARE THROW ME OVER!” You screech at Usopp. 

Before you could murder the cowardly sniped in a fit of heat-induced rage, Sanji steps through the door to the deck from the galley. 

“Okay everyone, dinner’s on. Air con works fine in here.” Sanji calls from the doorway. 

You push Usopp and Chopper behind you as you spring to your feet and sprint towards the galley. 

After entering the swinging door, the cool air hits you like stepping through a cascading waterfall. You sigh in relief. Your bliss was furthered when you see bowls of cool gazpacho at each place setting on the dining room table. 

“Thank gods…” You grumble as you hop onto the bench and start eating. The cold soup alleviated your discomfort from the inside out and you couldn’t help but groan in content. 

“Relax, it’s just soup.” Zoro puts his bowl down next to you and gives you a concerned look. 

“Oh I’m sorry swords-for-brains, did you not notice it’s a billion and five degrees outside?” You scowl at the swordsman seated next to you at the table. 

“Who cares?! This soup is great!” Luffy chimes in and extends his rubbery arms to grab every bowl that wasn’t licked clean and shovels them down his gullet. 

You sigh. 

“Nami please tell me this heat wave will be over soon. I’m getting crows feet ON my crows feet from this sun.” You turn towards your friend and navigator. 

“I wish I had better news but it’ll be at least a few more days before there’s any relief in temperature. We’re just going to have to stay in the shade and inside where the air is working. You’re tough, y/n, you can handle it.” Nami states as she sips from her bowl of cold soup. 

You roll your eyes. 

The dishes were promptly slurped clean by your captain and Sanji cleared the table. The blaring rays of the sun had exhausted so you so you decided to take a shower and head to bed. 

After taking a cool shower, you throw on a t shirt and shorts over your panties and sports bra and lay on top of the covers of your bed. 

“Gods it’s almost like it’s hotter in here than it is out there!” You say to yourself as you lay in bed, sweat soaking through your pillow. You decide to hop up and check if the air conditioning was working. You walk over to the vent in the corner of your room and press your hands against it. HOT air was spewing out from the grate in your room. You walk backwards and fall back onto the bed. 

“Fuck.” You throw your shirt over your head and slip your shorts off and flop back onto the bed. Sweat drips from your chin down your neck to your chest. 

*whoooosh*

Hot air was being pushed out harsher and faster through the grate in the corner of your room. The temperature continued to rise and your sweat soaked through your top sheet. 

“I’m not living like this!” You shout in frustration as you push your way out of your room, without bothering to throw your clothes back on. You head down into the belly of the ship in your underwear. Upon reaching the door you were looking for, you slam it open without knocking.

“FRANKY!!!!!” You yell angrily. 

“Jeez, y/n where’s the fire? I could have been naked in here!” Franky pushes his sunglasses back on his head as he turns towards you from his work bench. 

“You’re always naked!!! Also, more importantly, why is the HEAT ON in my bedroom?! Are you trying to cook me like a rotisserie chicken?!” You pant out, still very sweaty. 

“Oh that’s no good… I’ll have to go check the generators.” Franky rises to his feet, towering over you. “Sorry you were so uncomfortable, little lady. I’ll get this sorted out super quickly. Why don’t you get some shut eye in my bed for awhile? It’s still nice and cool down here.” He gestures to his bed in the corner of the room while he grabs his toolbox. 

You sigh. 

“Honestly that would be great, I feel like I’ve been in an oven all day.” You walk over to Franky’s bed and flop down on your back. Being this deep in the ship, there were no windows on the walls, but you were so sweaty and tired you didn’t care. 

“Alright well I’m gonna go fix this for ya, try and get some rest. Your room will be back to super condition in no time!” Franky leaves and you settle into the pillows and close your eyes. The sweat covering your body began to dry and you were finally comfortable again. You find yourself relaxing into Franky’s bed, smelling slightly of cola and motor oil, and drifting off into a light sleep. 

You wake up to the door of the bedroom closing and you snap your head up. 

“Woah, what do we have here?” You hear Franky’s booming voice as you rub the brief sleep from your eyes. It must have still been late at night. 

“Some dream ya must have been having, huh?” Franky stands above the bed and nods towards your spread thighs. You look down at where he was gesturing and notice a huge soaked patch in your pink panties. It was at this moment you notice the wanton ache in your core and abdomen… you must have been having a very wet dream and were awoken before you got to the good part. You instinctively slam your thighs shut in embarrassment and cover your face with your hands. 

“Look at you, so shy but dripping all over my sheets?” Franky continues with a smile, noticing your bashfulness. 

“I-I’m sorry I-“ You stutter and try to explain yourself. 

“It’s okay sweet thing! It’s totally normal. Looks like you’re pretty pent up, huh? I can fix that for ya, if you’re interested.” 

“I.. I mean that would be nice I guess…” You pull your hands away from your face hesitantly. 

“Aaaoooww!! That’s what I wanted to hear! Let’s get started then!” Franky grins and leans down to grab something from underneath his bed. He retrieves a large metal box and pops open the lid. 

“Hmmm let’s see… Some of these… definitely this…” Your robot whispers to himself as he roots around in the large chest. He rises and brings a pile of items out and flops them onto the bed. These were things you’ve never seen before, so your eyes were darting from chain to leather to silicone you had no idea what to focus on. 

“Take that bra off for me baby, I wanna ask ya some things before we get started.” Franky grabs the hem of your panties and gently tugs them down your legs.

You did as you were told and unclasped your bra, tossing it to the side and leaning back again. Franky softly sets your panties down on his bedside table and remarks, 

“I’m keepin’ these.” 

Your body shudders when you hear the sinister tone in his voice.

“Ok doll, now tell me…” Franky traces his hands up and down your thighs, parting them in the process. “How do you like it? I can edge you for an hour or so… or you could cum until you cry… any preference?” Frankly asks casually as he organizes the objects he had turned over onto the bed. 

“I, um…” You were young, not a virgin but not very experienced. This man was almost 10 years older than you, how were you supposed to know what you wanted from him?

“I… I wanna cum… I think…” You eventually squeak out. 

“Ok babydoll, good choice. Can ya promise me you’ll say ‘red’ if you want to stop?” Franky cups your jaw and makes sure you’re looking into his eyes above you. You nod. “No no, tell me you will.”

“I will say it, I’ll say red. I can do it.” You breath out, so ready for him to please you already. You rub your thighs together. 

“And you’ll tell me if there’s anything ya don’t like, hm?”

“Yes of course I promise!” You groan out, impatient to feel Franky’s touch on your skin. 

“Super! I’m going to put you in a spreader bar now, sweet cheeks, so you can’t close your legs on me. It’ll just go around your legs like this…” Franky explains to you methodically as he straps your legs into the homemade device. You tentatively try to close your thighs to see how effective the bar was… and it certainly did its job. 

“OK and these are gonna squeeze your nipples, just like this…” Franky gently attaches the nipple clamps onto your sensitive buds. 

“Oh!!” You cry out as he tightens the screws on them. Franky pulls back and admires his handiwork. You were laid out on his bed, metal clasps squeezing your nipples, causing you to writhe against the spreader bar forcefully separating your legs. 

“Fucking perfect. If you want I can gag you, too…” Franky approaches you with a ball gag in hand. 

“Wait, no. I don’t want that.” You state clearly, even through your lust filled haze. Franky grins down at you. 

“Gods, you’re so fucking hot when you tell me what you want baby. Good idea sweetie, that way everyone can hear how good I’m gonna make you feel.” Franky squeezes your breast, eliciting a whine from your lips. He moves to grab something from the foot of the bed. It a large long, black, wand like device. 

“Spread them for me, I wanna see that cute little pussy.” Franky grabbed one of your knees and pushed it open. 

“I didn’t shave…” You try to cover your face with your arm so you didn’t have to see Franky’s eyes on your most intimate bits. 

“Good! Smells much better like this…” He takes a deep inhale. 

“Fuck,” You sigh out. “You really are a fucking pervert- OH!” The device Franky was pressing against your sex suddenly sprung to life and vibrated against your clit. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced in your life and your stomach tenses immediately. 

“Wait- fuck, Franky! Wait holy shit, wait- ah!” You scream as your orgasm sneaks up on you and takes you out like an assassin. You legs give out and flop against the bed. Franky removes the toy and cups your sex with his free hand. He feels your hole still gently pulsing against his palm.

“Oh poor baby, ya really are wound tight…” Franky coos down at you from your side. “We’re gonna need a lot more of those before you’re ready for me..” He removes his hand and returns the vibrator to your sex. You cry out as he drags it through your wet folds at the lowest intensity. He eventually keeps it at your clit and increases the vibrations. 

You squirm and moan. 

“Hey,” Franky scolds as he pulls on the chain between your nipple clamps, causing you to moan louder. “Don’t fight it, doll face… just cum, I know you’re there again…” He presses the device harder into your flesh and you crash over the edge again. This time it was even more intense, spasms continuing long after the euphoria ended. 

“Franky… It’s so much…” You whine as he leaves the vibrator pressed against your sex even after you’ve cum for a second time. 

“You can take it. I know you can. You know what to say to get me to stop…” Franky meets your gaze and raises an eyebrow. 

You pull your thighs closed to escape the sensation but the bar prevents you from doing so. 

“Come on baby, one more like this, I know you can…” Franky increases the speed of the vibrator. 

“Shit! I can’t!” You arch your back away from the stimulation. 

“Then say it, sweetheart.” Franky increases the speed again. 

“Fuck! I’m- I’m cumming!” You cry out and violently lurch forward on the bed. You grab Franky’s forearm and sob in pleasure. You hear the buzzing of the machine stop and your spasms start to slow down. 

“Think you can take me now, sweet thing?” You are broken from your post orgasm trance by your cyborg lover slipping off the only piece of clothing he had on, his red swim briefs. 

“Mmmhmmm….” You seductively whisper as you roll onto your stomach and push you ass backwards with your knees, exposing your puffy, red wet hole to him. 

“So ready for me, what a good girl.” Franky coos as he strokes down your back bone. “I’m gonna fuck you now, take a deep breath…” 

“SHIT!” You cry out as Franky’s enormous cockhead breaches your hole. You were wildly wet and open after 3 orgasms, but his sheer size was causing your insides to stretch beyond compare. 

“Its- ah” *sniff* *hiccup* “It’s so big, Frank! Ah!” *sniff* 

“I know sweetheart, it’s a lot at first, but you gotta relax and let me fuck you. You gotta open up more baby..” Franky leans forward and places kisses on your shoulder blades. He feels you lessen your grip around him and he pushes in further. “Gooood girl… stretching so nice for me…” He finally pulls back out and shoves himself into you again. 

“Oh!” You cry out in surprise. You continue to yelp helplessly as your powerful cyborg lover drilled into you from behind. 

“Yes there it is mama, cum on this dick. Feels good, huh?” Franky has the audacity to laugh as he hammers into your G-spot. 

You were involuntarily pushed over the edge and sent screaming into yet another orgasm. You sob and Franky uses his massive strength to flip you over onto your back. He enters you again and you moan out in overstimulation. 

“Come on, one more doll, bet you can squirt on me…” Franky thrusts into you from above, holding your hips into his at the perfect angle to hit your spot. 

“No, I- I can’t” You pant out breathlessly, knowing this is something you aren’t capable of. 

“Yes you can baby, come on just try it for me.” Franky pulls back and places one hand on your stomach and the other on your clit. He begins to rub circles into your sensitive nub and applies deep pressure to your lower abdomen, all while thrusting deeply into you with his cock. You snap for the nth time that evening and tears spill from your lash line as your hips spasm in pleasure. You feel different, like some sort of physical release in your bottom half deeper than the normal climax. You look up after catching your breath and see that your fluids had soaked both the bed and your lover’s abdomen and thighs. 

“Hnnnnhhhh” You whine and weep in overestimation. “It’s too much, Frank, please!” You cry out and claw at your cyborg’s back. 

“Almost there mama, take it for me…” Franky rasps into your ear as he reaches his own climax, huge cock buried deep against your cervix. The loudest moan you’ve ever heard reaches your ears and you toss your head back into the pillows. The both of your whine as Franky carefully removes himself from your body. 

You lay there in a daze and didn’t even notice that your lover had left until he returned with a warm towel to dab at your swollen, messy sex. You twitch involuntarily as he cleans your sensitive bits. He unlocks your legs from their hold in the bar and gently pulls the clamps off your nipples, soothing them with the wet cloth.

“You room should be cooled off by now, glad I could occupy your time until the repairs kicked in.” Franky helps you snap your bra back on behind your back. 

“Thanks for the help, and thanks for the distraction.” You reach up and grip Franky’s jaw to kiss it. You slide off the bed bend down to grab something. You hold the worn red pair of swim briefs up to your face. 

“I’m keepin’ these.” You giggle and bolt out of the room with Franky’s bikini. 

“HEY! Those are my only red ones! This is not very super of you!”

—

Xx 

[in-search-of-a-fallen-star]

blood and sugar

put together a quick drabble to celebrate Wriothesley coming home early <3

Pairing: Wriothesley/Reader

WC: 813

Content warnings: brief descriptions of canon-typical injuries, ( bloody nose and bruises). otherwise just fluff.

“I would tell you to remember this the next time you decide to get into a fistfight with a rogue Gardemek, but we both know you’re not going to listen,” you sigh, pulling the first aid kit out of the cabinet and bringing it over to his desk.

“I was just doing my job. Someone had to put that thing out of commission before it hurt someone,” Wriothesley smiles up at you from where he’s sprawled in his chair. The bloody nose and bruised knuckles only add to his rakish charm, not that you’re going to tell him that. 

“Oh, please. I know you can’t resist a challenge, especially if you’ve been told it’s impossible. Also, someone did get hurt, in case you missed that,” you say primly, gently poking one of the rapidly darkening bruises as you begin the careful process of disinfecting his wounds. 

“Your bedside manner is terrible, my dear nurse. I’m in pain, you’re supposed to comfort me and kiss it better.” 

“Not your nurse,” you say absentmindedly while you wrap his hands. “Just filling in for Sigewinne while she’s out. You can ask her for kisses when she gets back.” 

He wrinkles his nose in distaste at the suggestion, and then winces as his wounded nose protests the movement. “I’m not gonna ask Sigewinne. Only your kisses make me feel better,” he wheedles. 

You examine the wrappings on his hands. Satisfied with your handiwork for now, you bring one of his hands to your lips. Ever so gently, you brush a kiss across his knuckles. Beneath you, you hear his breath hitch. You  reach for his other hand, dusting a kiss to the bandages there before you push yourself up and begin to gather the first aid supplies back into their box.

Before you fully remove yourself from his space, Wriothesley catches your wrist, holding you for a moment. When you turn to look at him questioningly, he taps his lips with a smile. “You missed a spot.”

You lean down, hovering your face over his. His eyes slide to half-mast and his lips part ever so slightly as his chin tips up towards you. 

“Hmm. Looks fine to me,” you muse, grabbing the first aid kit and stepping neatly out of his reach. You hear his head thunk against the back of his chair as you return the first aid kit to its place in the cabinet. Making a list in your head, you return to his desk, taking a piece of scrap paper and a pen to make a list of supplies in the first aid kit that need to be replenished after its most recent use. The whole time, you feel his eyes on you, piercing grey-blue irises trained on your face. 

“You gonna make me beg, sweetheart?” he rumbles, voice low. 

“Yes,” you snipe back, not taking your eyes off the list you’re making. 

His chair creaks in protest as he gets up, boots treading heavily as he rounds the desk. He plucks the pen and paper from your hand, tucking them into his breast pocket. He crowds into your space, slowly, letting you feel the warmth of him as he backs you into his desk. You sway back when your hips collide with the hard edge, and he keeps you there, dropping a hand to the edge of the desk and leaning in so close you can smell the sweat on his skin from his earlier bouts in the ring. 

“Please,” Wriothesley murmurs, breath hot on your cheek. “Please, sweetheart, lemme kiss you. You’ve been driving me insane today, all dolled up and looking so sweet.” 

You look up at him through your lashes. His eyes are blown black, dark and beseeching above you. “C’mon sweetheart, have mercy on me,” he begs.

You’ve had your fun, you decide. He has, after all, begged like you asked. It’s a small effort to close the gap between you and press a sweet kiss to his lips. 

He doesn’t let you go far. When you pull back ever so slightly, a growl rumbles from his chest and he pulls you back to him, crushing his mouth against yours. He kisses you like he’s starving, devouring your lips. 

You’re no better; you might play your games but you’re just as hungry for him as he is for you. You sink your hands into his hair and hold him close, clinging to him as your lips slide against each other.

The two of you are lost in each other for a moment, before a knock at the door startles you apart. 

“Your Grace, Sigewinne is here,” a voice comes from the other side of the door. 

You tidy your appearance, taking a step away. “Time for you to get looked over by an actual nurse,” you tell him with a smile. “Try not to bother her too much.”

[lewdimagines]

𝓢imply 𝓐like!| 🎀

summary : german speaking reader and könig meeting each other but reader is very energetic and small while könig is like a big lazy bear

cw : small sized reader! Nonpronouns reader is a sniper konig is very lazy sometimes.. cuddles, hugs, kisses, play fighting

wc : 2k (?)

könig and you were so similar! You and him were both Austria germans! You both speaked german fluently expect your english was a bit sloppy..but you didnt care that wasnt your job! Your job was to snipe any enemy that was a target to be killed, being a sniper really helped you out..your small body frame easily hidden in bushes and having small noises when you stepped around. König was the opposite standing at a 210cm making him saw easily..poor könig he just wants to be sneaky like a small kitten sneaking on its prey to get! You and konig met during a meeting plan you sneaking on him made a loud soft squeal come out the big sized man.. soon you apologized hearing his voice was unexpected! How could a big tall man like him sound so soft sweet and kind it made you a little bit angry but it’s alright! At least he is nice..ja? after 3 weeks later you and konig got to learn so much about each other! Talking to each other in german everyday atleast greeting each other or talking about your guys day! You both were paired up to do a mission take in someone who was linked to a missile owned enemy! But most of the time you guys play fought and laughed… he was lucky he was so big of a person! Konig kept throwing your frame around like you were a ragdoll and nothing more! You were suprised you had gotten the captive in the location they were supposed to be..weeks even more later your relationship with konig got more serious you both taking time together cuddling and talking about the silliest topic! The last one you guys had talken about is what animal you’d guys be in the afterlife..he said you’d be a energetic bunny that hoped around anywhere..of course you werent happy with that! But you told him you reminded him of a very fluffy soft lazy bear coming out of hibernation he said nothing..just nodded his head and pushed his weight on you crushing you playfully making you curse him out in german! Of course that made him grab you by the waist and softly slam you into the bed making you giggle out happily..he kissed your neck and covered your faces with sloppy kisses making you groan!!! How dare he kiss attack you </3!!

( :3 pls tell me if i should make a nsfw version! )

[cheolism]

his reward

✿ —  boo seungkwan x reader ❀ — summary: after a long day, seungkwan decides to seek relief between your legs ✿ —  wc is approx 4.3k ❀ — warnings/tags: minors do not interact. idol au. dom! seungkwan, service top! seungkwan, bottom! reader. pet names (baby, angel, good baby, good angel)(kwannie). mentions of video game-typical violence. oral (bsk giving), fingering, praise. pussy drunk seungkwan. spitting. face-riding. masturbation & cumming on body. intentional lowercase ✿ —  request: "no rush but it would be great if u could write something abt dom seungkwan cause there’s a drought of seungkwan fics esp dom ones . . ." ❀ — note: i tried to fit dom! kwannie, and i hope this was what u wanted plus still fits and suits him!! thank u for the request, and i hope it fulfills what u wanted !!!! <333

night had fallen on the city, the only light in your bedroom coming from the streetlight directly across your apartment building and the television. you had long tuned out the show you had put on, eyes narrowed in on your phone. 

the shower squeaked, drawing your attention away from your pubg game for just a moment. you listened as the shower door squeaked as it slid open, signaling the end of seungkwan’s shower. 

then there was a sound of a bomb from your game, and your eyes were back on it. you and seungcheol made your way around the building, crouching, your eyes on the horizon. 

“still playing that game?” 

you hummed in response, eyes darting up. seungkwan was running a towel over his hair, wrapped tight in a bathrobe. your bathrobe, to be honest, but the two of you had long dropped any attempts at organizing your wardrobes. especially after an incident where you wore a hoodie to meet with soonyoung and jeonghan at a grill, only for seungkwan to turn around and wear the same hoodie the next morning to a group practice. 

the robe, due to it being yours, was short on him. while it went to your calves, on seungkwan it brushed against the back of his knees. the fluffy sleeves revealed his fine wrists, seemingly framing them as if they were a masterpiece, drawing all your attention to the way he held his hands, the way his long fingers tousled his hair back and away from his face. 

“we’re gonna beat wonwoo for good,” you returned, looking back at your game. seungcheol’s character hopped into a jeep, the border that surrounded the map closing in. you quickly followed, letting him drive away. “we got mingyu right away.”

seungkwan snorted, turning and going back into the bathroom. “good. that jerk needs to be knocked down a few pegs.”

you grinned a little, biting down on your lip. feeling warm, you kicked off the comforter. you had already taken off your pants for the night, leaving them at a heap at the bottom of the bed. the weather had taken a turn for the better, to the point where you could now open the windows during nighttime, letting a gentle breeze fill the room.

seungcheol drove the jeep next to a cliff. you both jumped out of the vehicle, spinning your characters around to try and see if you spotted any enemies. 

you shifted, setting your feet flat on the bed and raising your knees up. 

there was a gunshot in the game and both you and seungcheol were turning towards it. you began firing in the general direction, offering a distraction for seungcheol to get the chance to snipe the enemy. 

the bathroom sink turned on and off. seungkwan began singing, his sweet voice filling the apartment and making your heart flutter a little. 

he always sang with such power, always commanding the stage. so you treasured the moments where he sang in his lower register, his voice sweet and honey-smooth, full of sincerity and making you feel as if you were the only person in the world. 

the approaching enemy defeated, you and seungcheol turned back to watching the horizon for more enemies. 

a sharp gust of cool spring wind filled the room, making your curtains flutter and your body shiver. you could feel the cold air against your clothed cunt. you stuck one of your feet back underneath the blanket, tempted to grab it and cover yourself again. 

seungkwan continued to sing as you and seungcheol shot down another enemy, the lovely lyrics to one of the group’s ballads filling your ears. absentmindedly you began to sing along, albeit quieter than seungkwan. while you constantly boasted your boyfriend’s many, many talents, you were conscious where yours were lacking. 

you didn’t notice when seungkwan stopped singing, your own voice carrying on the tune. it wasn’t until the bed shifted, his weight displacing it, did you stop and glance up. 

seungkwan was watching you, eyes sharp. his hair was still damp, sticking up at odd places. his face was slightly red from his skincare routine, and you could smell his orange blossom lotion. 

“kwannie?” you looked back down at your phone. you and seungcheol ducked into a house, the faint song of gunfire disrupting the overwise quiet bedroom. “why’d you stop singing?”

your boyfriend sighed deeply. you steered your character onto the roof of the building, laying flat on the top and watching as two enemies neared it. 

“today was really stressful,” seungkwan began in that coy voice of his that told you that your boyfriend had something in mind. so you stayed quiet, eyes still on the roaming players. “it was long and never-ending. but i endured it.”

you grinned a little, glancing up at seungkwan. he was looking at you still, body turned completely towards you. you dropped your legs, letting them splay out, knees against the sheets. “it’s hard sometimes to tolerate days like that,” you agreed, wiggling your toes. “i’m proud of you for sticking through it.”

“thank you,” seungkwan said, moving. you could see the figure of his body as he stalked up the bed, nearing you. “i think i deserve a special something for enduring it. don’t you?”

you nodded, shooting down one of the players as they tried to walk up the stairwell that led to your roof. “you do! do you wanna go to the cafe tomorrow? that little one that has the bread shaped like fruit?”

seungkwan hummed, one of his hands settling on your foot. he tapped his finger against your foot thoughtfully. “that’d be good, baby. but i was thinking about a reward more accessible, something i can have now.”

“we can have some of that frozen yogurt in the freezer,” you suggested absentmindedly. seungcheol’s character walked up the stairs, jumping for you to follow. “i think it goes bad in a week anyways.”

“frozen yogurt does sound good,” seungkwan drawled out. he wrapped both of his hands around your ankles, clenching slightly. “but i was thinking about something even better than that.”

brow furrowing, you glanced up at your boyfriend in confusion. you didn’t keep many treats in the apartment, finding that one of your boyfriend’s groupmates would sneak in at some point and eat all of them before you could even have a first. 

seungkwan liked it when you did his nails, liked it when you pampered him. maybe that’s what he wanted?

then a sly grin overtook seungkwan’s features, his eyes getting an impish glint. before you could question him he was yanking your ankles, pulling you flat on the bed. 

you squealed out his name in shock, phone dropping on your chest. you could hear gunfire from your game. 

seungkwan wedged open your legs, shouldering his way between them. he grabbed your phone, turning off the sound before he exited the game and tossed your phone down the bed. 

“seungkwan!” you gasped, eyes wide. you and seungcheol were in the top five and wonwoo was still alive and you still had to get him --  what on earth was seungkwan doing? seungcheol was going to be so pissed, wonwoo was going to win, and the two of you would have to endure another week of wonwoo silently teasing you. “what are you doing?!”

“having my special something,” seungkwan replied, hooking his arms around your thighs and pressing them to the bed, baring your pussy. seungkwan pressed forward, shoving his face into your clothed cunt. 

you were mortified, even moreso when you could feel seungkwan take a deep, shuddering breath against your cunt, breathing it in. he nosed against it, your cunt shamefully clenching and fluttering in response. 

you could practically feel the heat pool in your cunt and turn into fluid, could feel as it leaked out of your hole and stained your underwear. 

“that’s it,” seungkwan murmured, taking another deep breath as your arousal soaked your panties. he hummed a little, pressing his closed lips to your cunt. you could feel the vibrations of his mouth through your panties, your toes and fingers curling in response. 

“getting so wet for me already,” he said, pressing a closed-mouthed kiss over your cunt. you let out a gasp, your hand coming up and muffling the tail end of the noise. if you couldn’t control the way your cunt acted, couldn’t control the fluid that gushed from it as if you were at a damn waterpark just from your boyfriend sniffing it, then at least you could try and be quiet. 

“kwannie,” you breathed out, still keeping your mouth trapped behind your hand. “what are you doing --”

“my reward for being good,” seungkwan responded, burying his nose into your cunt again. all he was doing was smelling it like some sort of depraved man, as if the two of you didn’t have sex multiple times a week, as if he had been waiting all day just for the chance to smell your cunt. 

“how --” you broke off, closing your eyes and throwing your head back. you counted to five in an attempt to gather yourself. “how, seungkwan, is smelling my -- how is this a reward?”

“your pussy smells so good, baby,” he murmured, angling his head. he brushed his nose against your clit, and even though you still had your underwear on, the sensation sent a jolt through you. “i think about it all the time, you know. your pussy, how it feels around my cock. how it feels around my finger, how it tastes. fuck, how your cunt tastes.”

then seungkwan’s tongue was running up your cunt, from the bottom to your clit, sticking your underwear against your pussy. you couldn’t help the loud moan that left you, nor could you help how your back arched up into the air in response. 

“just stay there,” seungkwan said, pulling back. his hands went to the ties of your robe, pulling them undone and shrugging it off. seungkwan pushed it off the bed with one hand, the fingers of his other hand going to your cunt. he dipped his fingers around the fabric, letting his nails brush over the warmth of your cunt. “just sit still, baby. please? let me take my reward.”

you shot him a look, fingers flexing on the sheets. “kwannie --”

“please,” he whined, making his way back between your legs. he tugged at your underwear, pulling it lopsided. “lemme taste your cunt, baby. been thinking about it all day, been thinking about it since i woke up. please let me eat your cunt.”

your heart stopped, mouth dropping open at the frankness in his voice and in his words. seungkwan pressed forward, his mouth kissing your cunt through your underwear once more. 

“okay,” you gasped, hand shooting out to still him. “okay. just. just let me taking them off before --”

“before i rip them?” seungkwan finished, the mischievous smile on his face so at odds with his normal personality. he looked smug, watching as you slowly brought one of your legs up towards your chest, hooking your fingers through your underwear and guiding them down. “good baby,” he praised, eyes intently watching as you revealed your cunt. “good baby.”

seungkwan moved up to his knees again, coming to rest beside you on the bed. he cocked his head at you when you were still, patting his chest. “well? are you going to sit on my face or not?”

slowly, more aware of the way your pussy juices were leaking out and onto your thighs at a constant rate, you moved your way up the bed. you straddled his chest, standing on your knees to reach up for the headboard. 

seungkwan’s hands settled on your hips, guiding you up the rest of the way to stand over his face. he maneuvered you to how he wanted you, and when you could feel his warm breath against your bare cunt you couldn’t help the little moan that escaped you. 

“that’s a good angel,” he praised you, voice low. he lowered you until you were properly sitting on him. 

“kwannie,” you sighed, nails lightly scratching into the wood of the headboard. “don’t -- don’t get carried away, okay? remember, two taps if you can’t breathe.”

“i remember, angel,” he murmured. his fingers pressed into your skin, his touch lighting you aflame. you’ve begun to wonder when his imprints would finally sink in, when his fingerprints and hand-shape would leave a permanent mark on you. it was so often, after all, that seungkwan was touching some part of you, as if he wanted to leave his touch branded on your skin. 

seungwkan nudged his nose against your clit. immediately your muscles were tightening, your hips bucking up a little. seungkwan chuckled against you, and you could feel his arms flex against you as he tightened his hold around your middle, keeping you seated on his face. 

seungkwan ran his tongue along your cunt in one long broad stripe, the slurp that accompanied the action so lewd that it made your toes curl and nails dig into the headboard. he dug his nose into your cunt, next to your clit; his chin bumped against your cunt as he shoved his tongue inside of you, gathering your juices and sucking them. 

“kwannie,” you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut. he ran the flat of his tongue over your hole, causing a wild shiver to wreck your body. “seungkwan, seungkwan.”

your boyfriend responded by wrapping his lips around your hole and sucking, causing your cunt to clench and your back to arch. helplessly you grinded down, subconsciously seeking relief; seungkwan, ever the giver, provided, shoving his tongue back inside of you. 

seungkwan ate you out like a man parched, sucking your juices into his mouth and reverently searching for more. he ate you like a glutton, seemingly never filled, his tongue rolling along and inside your cunt endlessly, never relenting. 

your hips were constantly moving, rolling down onto his face. seungkwan’s nose kept bumping against your clit, every nudge causing your nerves to jump and your body to sink further on top of him, seeking out the electricity that only seungkwan seemed to be able to provide. 

his arms relaxed for a moment, moving to hook around your thighs. seungkwan shifted you up and off of him. you glanced down. 

your boyfriend was absolutely covered in your cunt juices, from his nose to his chin. his face was a deep red form the effort he was putting into devouring you, lips gleaming and puffy. seungkwan’s eyes were dilated, trained on your pussy still. he brought one of his hands to his face, wiping at his nose. 

his fingers came away covered in your juices. seungkwan hummed, sticking them into his mouth and suckling. 

“seungkwan,” you groaned, brow furrowing. you released your hold on the headboard to reach down and tug at his hand, drawing it from his mouth with a crude pop. “don’t. ‘s dirty.”

“no more dirty than eating out your pussy, baby,” he replied. nonetheless seungkwan hook his arms back around your thighs, squeezing as he tried to coax you back into sitting on him. “i’m not done, angel. sit back down.”

slowly you returned to your -- in seungkwan’s opinion -- rightful spot. immediately his mouth was on your cunt again, acting as if your hole was your mouth, kissing it and making out with it. he was worshiping your pussy, eating from it, ravishing it. 

seungkwan moved his arm from around you, his fingers skimming down the curve of your ass. he slid his hand between your body and his face, fingers poking at your hole. 

you couldn’t help the loud moan of approval that left you, nor could you help the way you immediately grinded down on his fingers. he slipped one inside your hole, and you were quickly overcome with the feeling of hunger. 

you clenched down on his fingers, searching for some sort of relief from this famine that was coursing through you. his name was a mantra, your chants filling the room as his finger filled your cunt. 

“‘nother, kwan,” you gasped, lifting yourself off of his face and dropping back down on his finger. you repeated this, hips searching for something to satisfy your craving. “please, kwannie, another.”

seungkwan hummed against you, his lips busy mouthing at your clit. for a moment nothing happened, his tongue rolling over your clit and slurping at your pussy juices. 

then his second finger slipped in beside his first. you moaned, quickly moving so his fingers pressed against your core. seungkwan began curling his two fingers inside of you in tandem with the movement of his tongue on your clit, trying to coax you into an orgasm. 

but you were hungry now, and it would take more than just two of his fingers and tongue to satiate you. 

“more, kwannie,” you begged, bracing yourself on the headboard. you continued to move your hips along the length of his fingers, your cunt so wet that they practically glided. “another, kwannie. another, another, please.”

seungkwan the arm wrapped around you to lift you, shifting his hand beneath you, then he hooked three of his fingers against your hole, tugging, and you couldn’t help the cry that escaped you. 

“that’s it,” he praised, pulling you back down so his nose was bumping along your pussy. “that’s a good angel.”

your whole body seemed focused on your cunt, concentrating on these points of contact between you and your boyfriend. you couldn’t think anything other than him, couldn’t sense the headboard you were grabbing or the blankets beneath your knees. you could only feel his fingers sliding along your walls, pressing down on your core, his tongue flicking at your clit. 

then seungkwan adjusted, moving and wrapping his mouth around your clit. he sucked once, twice, three times, your loud moans music to his ears, and you were collapsing against the headboard, body sagging as your orgasm finished. 

seungkwan tapped your thighs, reminding you that he was still beneath you. you shifted, moving throwing out your leg so you were no longer straddling him. you leaned back against the headboard, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath. 

a dirty popping noise had you opening your eyes. seungkwan was perched on his knees in front of you, his erection red and straining against his stomach. he was wiping his face with his hand, pressing his fingers into his mouth and sucking your juices off of his digits. 

you watched, weary, as your boyfriend noticed your gaze and stopped sucking. a slow little grin overtook his face, and then he was grabbing you. 

seungkwan pulled you flat against the bed, wrenching open your thighs. you gasped, eyes wide, as seungkwan pressed himself back between your legs. “seungkwan, what are you --”

“‘m not done yet, angel,” he promised, pressing his face back into your cunt. he immediately latched his mouth around your hole, suckling and tonguing. 

still sensitive from your orgasm, your back arched and your legs flail about. seungkwan growled against your cunt, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pressing them down to the bed. 

“be still, baby,” he said, his mouth pressing against your pussy, his every word sinking into you. your cunt gushed around him in response, and his tongue quickly began lapping up your juices. 

you couldn’t do anything other than toss against him, body wriggling as overstimulation set in. you were aware of the blankets twisting around your body, of how your hands were constantly scrambling against them in an attempt to get some sort of hold. you were aware of how his tongue plunged into you rapidly, how his fingers flexed against your thighs and pressed into them, tattooing his mark onto your skin. 

seungkwan lifted his head from your cunt. he was drenched once more. he ran his tongue around his mouth, gathering your slick. you watched as he swallowed your juices, watched as his throat worked. 

then he leaned back over your cunt, pursing his lips. a wad of spit dropped from his mouth to your pussy, mixing with your juices. 

your eyes flew shut and you threw your head back, the image of your boyfriend spitting on your cunt replaying. the way his bangs obscured his eyes, how his lips, red and puffy from his devotion to your pussy, curled before he spat.

his hands went to your body, kneading into your thighs. seungkwan’s mouth pressed a kiss to your stomach and then he was trailing a path of kisses down, lips gentle as he returned to your cunt. 

seungkwan pressed more spit from his mouth to your cunt, using the wetness to slide three of his fingers back in. your body accepted them greedily, and it was only a matter of time before another orgasm washed over you, his fingers eagerly drawing it out. 

you couldn’t do much more than lay there as seungkwan pressed a final kiss to your clit, your body jerking in response. he sat up, leaning back. seungkwan reached between your thighs and gathered your slick on his hand. he then wrapped his hand around his leaking dick, hissing at the contact. 

even though you were exhausted, you couldn’t help but watch as seungkwan jerked himself off. he pressed his lips together, trying to muffle his moans, trying to keep his climax at bay. 

you splayed your legs. “kwannie,” you called, beckoning. “here.”

seungkwan shuffled to kneel between your thighs. he collected more of your juices and returned his hand to his dick. seungkwan then pressed his other hand next to you, using it to guide his body down so he could rest his stomach on your breasts. you wrapped your arms around him, holding him, fingers playing with his hair. 

you didn’t see it when he came, but you felt it. his entire body stiffened save for his hand, which was working furiously over his dick. seungkwan’s moans and groans were loud, just as loud as yours were. 

when he was done, seungkwan pressed a kiss to your chest and pulled away. his cum had joined yours between your thighs, thick white stripes painting your skin and the blanket between. 

seungkwan laughed breathlessly, his hands skimming over your thighs. “angel, your cunt --”

“no more,” you begged, flinging your head back against the bed. seungkwan’s laughter was loud this time, and he pitched forward to press a kiss to your throat. “seungkwan, you’ve wrung me dry, i swear.”

“we both know that’s a lie,” he chuckled, kisses chaste against your skin. “but i’ll ignore it for tonight.”

seungkwan settled into your hold, your skin sweaty and sticking to his. you were content like that for a few moments, holding your boyfriend, brushing his hair back away from his face and gazing into his honey-sweet eyes. 

“i love you,” you murmured, hand holding his cheek. 

“i love you, angel,” he returned, turning and pressing a kiss into your palm. 

seungkwan’s phone ringing pierced the air, and your boyfriend was muffling a whine into your body. you laughed, pushing him away. “better go answer that, kwannie.”

seungkwan sighed, flopping to the side. the phone stopped its ringing, only to pick up again. he swung himself off of the bed, movement sluggish as he crossed into the bathroom. you watched his legs as he walked, watched them flex; your eyes then caught sight of his ass, and immediately you felt your mouth water. 

“fuck,” seungkwan’s curse brought you out of your daydream. you went to your elbows, concerned. he exited the bathroom, eyes wide and frantic, phone still ringing. “it’s seungcheol! he’s worried because you aren’t picking up your phone and you quit the game suddenly and he texted and said he’s on his way and he’s going to take one look at us and know!”

you sat up completely, wincing at the mess between your thighs. “know what? that you’re some pussy hungry demon?”

seungkwan flew about the room, grabbing the discarded towel he had used for his hair. he went about drying off his body, trying to get as much sweat off of himself as possible. “this isn’t funny, y/n! holy shit, fuck, fuck, fuck --”

“i’ll get dressed --”

“no!” he whirled on you, pushing you back onto the bed. “you look like -- well you look like you’ve just been fucked. you just stay here and pretend you’re not here.”

“ah, yes,” you began dryly. seungkwan hurried to the closet, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and hurriedly pulling them on. he stumbled a big, falling against the wall. “i’m totally not in my apartment that i signed the lease on at ten at night.”

“you’ve got it!” seungkwan praised. he launched himself across the bed, reaching out for you and pressing a kiss to your lips. 

then someone -- seungcheol -- was knocking at the apartment door, and seungkwan flew off of you. he fell of the bed, the noise loud and thunderous. 

he was out of the bedroom in a flash, his feet slapping against the hard floors as he ran for the door. you could hear him, his voice high and frantic and not at all concerning, as he greeted seungcheol. 

you could hear seungcheol’s voice, as deep as it was, all the way from your bedroom. “is everything okay, seungkwan? i was playing with y/n and suddenly they disappeared. i tried getting a hold of them, but there’s no answer from their phone.”

“ah!” seungkwan shouted, voice shrill. “they’re just uh -- they fell down the stairs and dropped their phone and it smashed!”

well, you thought, flopping back on the bed, you could either have a boyfriend who gave amazing head, or you could have a boyfriend who was a good liar. you couldn’t have both. 

[uraharasfavoriteexperiment]

~ sense of authority

info lieutenant!sosuke aizen x male reader / smut drabble content male anatomy, he/him pronouns, he/him aligned pet names, rough punishment sexxxx, breeding?, 3 rounds, choking, heavy hair pulling, really deep-seated authority kink, the drabble starts in the middle of the sex notes pt. 2? networks @the-hoetei-13 ---> for work on it wednesday in the discord! [ wc ] 391 please reblog fanfictions when you read one you like! likes do not help writers' algorithms!

you let out a needy whine, and lieutenant aizen growls warningly, his lips about an inch from your ear. he's holding you down by your hips- quite easily, he's using one large, very pretty hand- while he fucks you at a steady pace towards blissful oblivion. the one hand he has free isn't exactly free, either- it's wrapped around your throat, making it so pleasantly hard to breathe.

your heart is racing- or was it? you couldn't tell. your brain is so fogged with sexual pleasure that you literally can't form a thought. not even a simple one. he's fucking you that good. but what did m/n do to deserve this? well..

m/n may or may not have attempted to dethrone him from the squad lieutenant position.

it didn't work out so well, as one would hope they couldn't tell.

now you're getting fucked brainless, and were you capable of complex thought, you'd say that you couldn't be happier to be in this position.

"you dare try to take my position from me, m/n?" lieutenant aizen growls, "you dare attempt to dethrone me?"

your only response is a weak little whimper.

"what a weak little mutt..." he snipes, "taking my cock like such a little champion. willing to get do anything to get dicked down by someone in a position of power over you..."

you feel a faint twinge of indignation- but he's right. you like it. you like authority, it's hot. people will do almost anything to get into a place of power, and for some reason that really turns you on. people in positions of power- especially in the soul society, seem to almost universally think they can treat people with less power in any way the want- and for whatever godforsaken reason...

you like it.

lieutenant aizen bites down aggressively on your neck with no warning, pulling you out of your miracle-made thoughts. the action elicits an animalistic groan from the back of your throat, making your eyes rolling up into your head.

"you will not get away with this, m/n." he hisses, his voice a dead-calm whisper, "you shall be punished."

the words that slide from his lips make your dick twitch in blind anticipation of what could be about to happen next- what is he gonna do to you now? whatever it is, you want it.

banners made by @cafekitsune

© uraharasfavoriteexperiment.

[sweetsuo]

Hotel Service. 

Oliver Aiku

Cw. afab!reader. Fingering. Oral. public sex. Drinking. Terms like ‘baby girl’. Edging.  Genre. [ fic. Smut. basically just smut with vague plot. I am not sorry.] Wc. 2.5k

Rough hands picked at the sides of his phone case.  Amidst the many nameless chickadees Oliver had ghosted was a single unanswered text. He sighed heavy and long. Arm came across his forehead as he sprawled across the hotel couch. Despite his disappointment, he laughed, "Damn, this is the shit I do?" The room answered with silence. Oliver was a known playboy. He frequented hostess bars, brought new girls to his favorite karaoke places, and never saved a number. He'd never thought about the repercussions on the girls' end. He never had to. It's not like he put faces to the numbers and never tapped a girl more than once.

But now everything reminded him of you. These walls haunted him with the echoing sound of your voice, drawn out and honied. His hand along the sofa's arm felt hallow without the soft of your thigh rolling between his fingers. The bottle of spirits he sipped from was unbearable without the taste of you to chase it with. Karma truly was fucking him harder than he wished to fuck you again, that was for damn sure.

He leaned forward on the shitty, you-less couch creaking under the weight. Three. Over the last few days, he saw you pick up three other guys at the club. If he weren't so fixated on you, he'd probably give you credit for the skill. He was so hooked on you that he didn't dare pick up another for fear they wouldn't feel as good as you did. What pissed him off more was that you were completely fine. Other chicks were so cock-drunk they'd hit him up by the hour. But you? Nothing. His pride was sniped three times over. As he stared at your contact, Oliver wondered if some pussy were really worth all this frustration.

Fuck it. C’est la vie. He called.

Brrrrrrrrr.

The dial tone taunted him, but he maintained his cool.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Uncomfortable anticipation settled in his stomach. A taste of his own medicine really was as bitter right about now.

Brrrrrrrr-

His heart skipped a beat.

"Hello?"

To hear your voice is like a shot of a top-class heroine. Immediately, everything in him unwound, 

"What's up, Lil chick?" Oliver was casual, voice rolling low against the receiver. He could hear music from the other end, loud and static-filled.

"Oh~ not much. At the cluuuuub –

Not much? I'm hurt."

Oliver's grip tightened around his phone, the smile of relief steeling into something sharp. Whatever this feeling was it was new and he was not a fan of it.

"Aw, don't be like that~" Your words were muffled by the hand covering your receiver, but he could still hear it, "We're just havin' fun, nothin' too deep."

The words burned. For a long time, the striker had been happy to sit back in comfort and defend his peace. He didn't want to be tied down. Hell, he even was the one to say this was no strings attached. Those strings apparently only roped around him now, leaving you free to do whomever you please.

"You wanna have some fun with me, baby girl?" He purred. It was a one-sided challenge to the cuck trying to make a move.

"I don't usually do seconds," You say, but from the languid drawl in your voice, he knew you were contemplating, "What if you're boring?"

"Anything but. Which club?" Oliver stood, dressing himself with the phone still between his cheek and shoulder, "I'll swing by and grab ya now."

-

Whatever the setlist was, the crowd was into it. You watched the dancing bodies, bumping and grinding under the flickering red lights. The rhythm of the beat seeped into your bones, ratting you from the inside out and numbing your mind from any serious thinking. It’s just what you needed after hard day’s work. In the past hour, you made coy eye contact with two separate pretty boys. You’d catch their eye and when they noticed, you’d look away with a brush of your hair and a sip of your drink. Your time fishing, flashing bait in front of two hungry piranha was well spent. Not just one, but both of your pretty little fish came around to sit by you. They’d think it was all their idea to approach. Men puffing their chests for your attention was always a show worth while, especially when it ended with a quick fuck. It reminded you how silly they could be.

Frankly, ever since you met the scraggly soccer player, no other man could hold up to your expectations. You had too much pride to hit up a one night stand for some dick, though, so you went about your business as per usual. Just this time, you were filling the void he’d left behind. When he called, your heart leapt into your throat. When he said he’d come get you? You shook with anticipation.

That’s how you got to where you were now – entertaining your backup pieces as they cut jabs at one another to get the prize.  

“You sure you didn’t get stood up, sweety? What douchebag would pass up on a fine ass like your?”

“I dunno, let’s wait a little longer and find out,” You said with a bite. To swallow down your impatience, you took a sip from your martini glass.

“I’m getting a little antsy over her, hon, you coming home with me or no?” The one to your right asked, sliding a hand along your knee.

You barely move in response, only glance down to the hand in bored disinterest from the corner of your eyes. He doesn’t notice. He’s way too occupied stared at your exposed thigh. You’ll give the guy a proper shot if Oliver doesn’t -

When hands grasped your bare shoulders, you yelped and looked above you. From behind the couch was that pretty little soccer player who so desperately craved your affection. “Couldn’t agree more. Baby girl, you weren’t planning on leaving with someone like that were you?” His voice teased, duochrome hues openly judging and appraising the meat you’d chosen for dinner. Garbage. All garbage to him, of course. “Let’s head back to my place, I’ll treat you right.” His tongue slid across the soft flesh of his lips, teeth bared as a threat to the one with wandering hands. The hand flinched, but didn’t move until Oliver’s hard glare met his directly.­  

“I’ve been waiting all night!” You were thrilled at the ravenous jealousy eating the playboy up. His hands squeezed your shoulders. Your hand came up to rest along his neck in response. You couldn’t help but notice the rush of his heartbeat through his vein. What a starved, hungry snake he was, writhing at the heat of your hand, “Lead the way, Mr. Patience.”

-

The hotel door lurched with your weight thrown against it. Your mouth opens in an exhale, only to be hungrily consumed by the striker pinning you. Oliver's body is broad, sturdy, and near suffocating in its press. His tongue explored yours, scraping against the roof of your mouth, running across your tongue and teeth in fervor.

Oliver's hands frantically searched each pocket for his key card. His hips ground into yours, drawing out a sweet and needy whine from you. His cock twitched against the zipper of his pants at the very sound. He needed to hear more of it. He needed more of you. Momentarily giving up on his search, his hands gripped your body. The supple skin seeping between his fingers, the feel of your body heat rising as his hands slid lower. He drank it all in like sweet ambrosia.

Kisses and teeth trailed from your lips to your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin just under the curve. Your chest rises and falls with heavy breathing, walls cinching against nothing with each heavy grind against you. Anxiety meddled with arousal as you searched the halls for other guests, staff, and cameras. Words tumble clumsily from your lips, "F-find your card, won't ya?"

"Oh?" He purrs against your neck, "Scared someone seeing you?" You tremble at the burn of his breath against you, "Weren't you just vying for some pathetic sap's attention earlier? Now some staff seeing you against a door is too much?" Oliver halts, mouth close by your ear, "You wanted fun, so let's make it a game, alright, baby girl?"

You swallow hard, curiosity getting the best of you, "Rules?"

"You have to hold everything in and I will draw it out," He pulls back, pressing his forehead to yours, "I win if you get the attention you were looking for."

"Easy peasey," You tease, pressing your lips together with a triumphant smirk. Maybe it was the haze hovering over your mind that made you so pliable to his little game. Or maybe the promise to work hard for your moans was it.

"Sure about that?" His hips bucked, and his abs tensed. Trained self-control is the only reign on the base urge to just take you on the door.

"Confident."

"Atta girl." With those two words, Oliver pressed the outside of his right foot against the inside of your left, spreading your legs to the width of the doorframe. The glint in his eyes was lit by lust. His hand, which had been massaging the curve of your thigh, slipped between them. You arch into his touch automatically, pathetically, preciously.

Calloused fingers ran along the length of your panty-covered slit. He pressed into you harder, breathing unsteadily, yet he stifled a single chuckle. Who knew you'd be this wet from a silly little game? Fingers stroked the sodden, silken fabric. He toyed with you. Each stroke towards your clit was matched with each breath in and each stroke over your drooling hole with each breath out. He wanted you to think of his touch every time you breathed.

As the pad of his middle finger ran up, he whispered close, "Hold your breath, baby." Free hand took your chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting your gaze to meet his. Painfully slow and controlled, he grazed over the swollen bundle of nerves. The fabric between you and him added to the friction. The muscles of your obliques tense. Your eyes squint as you hold back the air and the sound you wish to let run free.

Once he went over the hill, he began to roll back, pressing into the nerves in an excruciatingly slow circle before passing over, "Now out." As you let out a steady stream of air, it all hitches as he begins to circle at your entrance. The thong was your only barrier, and fuck did you want it gone.

Oliver relished in the way the fabric slipped with his touch, "You're doing so good. Haven't made a peep." His gaze turns to monitor the hall, deeming it clear, "Let's see if I can't change that."

Your heart throbbed hopelessly, its beat reverberating at his touch. Smoothly, he pushed the fabric aside, fingers now spreading you apart to dribble down his hand. He shuddered, desperate to be in you yet staving off his own desire for yours. He had to make an impression you couldn't forget.

He teased, palm secure against your clit so you felt every motion he made. Fingertips dipped into you, barely giving you enough to hold onto. Your hands, which once braced you against the door, now wrapped around his shoulders, gripping at the leather of his jacket. You couldn't make a noise. You wanted to, though. You wanted to release the hot burn in your chest. You wanted to cry out for him to go in. You wouldn't make a noise. You sway your hips in a desperate attempt for more.

"Awe, greedy little thing," He mutters, kissing your pretty pouting lip, "Keep watch, now." The cryptic words had you furrowing your brow. That was until he dropped to one knee. Panicked, you open your mouth to protest and then quickly shut it. So long as you were quiet, no one would know. It was more than just a competition. He slid down the thong and you stepped out, not even noticing him pocket them. Instead, eyes searched for security cameras, finding only one. Surely, the security guard would call the manager. Or maybe...

He lifted your leg with a firm grasp underneath your knee. The lift raises your skirt, revealing you to the empty hall and the jealous beast kneeling before you. The hand not under your knee now prodded at your entrance, a single digit asking for entry. You oblige, leg left standing beginning to shake. The single-digit pumps slowly at first, only massaging the first inch or so before fully retracting and diving in again. His tongue laps you up, cleaning every inch of your thighs and vulva until he's satisfied. You desperately grasp onto his hair, curling over in soundless pleasure. The position kept you from fucking his hand. It had to have been intentional. There was no fucking way it wasn't. He kept you where he wanted you.

The flat of his tongue now lapped between your folds as a second finger entered, plunging deeper in. He savors your taste, entranced in the twitch of your thighs beside him. His hips rut at the air thoughtlessly, his only release of tension from the friction of denim against his throbbing cock. Oliver ruts to the pace of his fingers, lost in the moment and groaning into your pussy. Fingers pawed deliberately slow at the soft cushion of your walls. It was just the spot to make you bite down hard to keep it all in. You can feel yourself coming undone, fingers gripping into the shaggy black mess between your thighs. His fingers lit you from the inside out, each stroke a matchstick attempting to light.

Through the thick, sticky haze of euphoria clinging to your mind, you register the tapping of footsteps. Pussy cinches against his working fingers. Anticipation and fear all well up inside. Your hand tapped on his shoulder. He heard it. He didn't move. Stubbornly, the python below nipped at your bud to make you break. Fingers worked you with hungered haste, even filling you up with a third. You trembled, unsupported leg ready to give out as you pant helplessly. You were practically leaning on his back, fists now filled with his jacket.

In a poor attempt to ride his fingers to finish, you buck reflexively each time he hits the spot. His tongue made messy shapes on your clit and his muffled, silent groans vibrated along it. Everything coalesced, bringing you right to the edge. You wanted to tell him your leg was going to give, but you couldn't. What went from a challenge of will now became open-mouthed, breathless ecstasy as he kept you right on the precipice of release. Drool trickled from your lips and onto your clenched fingers. The footsteps grew ever closer and so did you. Your head now tilted back, leaning on the rattling door. You staying silent didn't mean shit when the door told all your secrets. It all could be forgiven when you looked down at the man below, eyes glazed yet hard as he glanced up at you in awe. He looked at you in the way you only hoped someone could, "F-fuck, I'm gonna-"

Oliver released you from his hold, fingers drew out, slippery and wet. He licked his lips clean and rose fast, pulling your skirt back down as he did. A frustrated tear ran down your cheek, dragging mascara with it. Your legs could barely hold you up and you were almost certain you were making a mess of the carpet below. Baffled, you grab his hand to put it back and he just laces his fingers in yours, "O-Oliver –"

"Heard there was a noise complaint about a door?" A man in his 50's, obviously fed up with his middle-management job, approached, "Do we have a problem?"

"Sorry," Oliver chuckled, ruffling his hair as if he hadn't just stained his boxers with pre, "We got locked out. Chickadee here was just about the break the door down. Think I dropped my keycard."

"Oh," the manager replied flatly, "This it? Saw it in the hall." Between his fingers was the exact keycard Oliver had been searching for at the beginning of this.

"Perfect. Thank you."

"Get some rest," The Manager grumbled, now walking off hissing 'fucking youths.'

"You want to get some rest?" The brunette joked, grinning at your obvious flustered frustration. He cups your cheek, wiping at the dribbling mascara, "Or do you want me to really make that pretty makeup of yours run?"