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eff4freddie · 6 months ago

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Joel Miller AU x Javier Pena x AFAB Reader/You

Word count: 9k

Joel takes a second job at the local strip club, hoping to cover Sarah's fees for her fancy new private school. He just has to make sure no one's gettin' too rowdy, and watch out for the girls. It would be really simple. If it weren't for you.

Warnings: porn with plot, this is a Joel Miller story but it's about a strip club so obviously Javi is there, reader is a stripper, no shame get your dollars ladies, MMF, Oral (f receiving), slow burn then smut, also a couple of other cameos, reader has limited physical descriptions other than in reference to her lady parts, this is really filthy even for me, pining while Joel really trying to hang on to some semblance of morals, Javi says maybe two words? Explicit. Minors DNI.

He thought his hearing was bad before he took the job, that years of construction work; drilling, hammering, screaming at Tommy for fucking up the A-frame, would be the thing that robbed him of one of his more essential senses. But it turned out it wasn’t that, it was the incessant bass, the thrum of the sub-woofer reverberating around his skull. The way he felt it jolt his spine, Mikey the DJ hell-bent on obliterating the patron’s ability to think straight with sound alone, as if the watered down booze wasn’t toxic enough to cloud their judgement.

But Sarah needed to go to the fancy school, the one with the uniforms and the shiny brochures, and he hadn’t figured it would be all that mentally taxing. He could do without the late nights at his age, but he got paid after-hours rates to basically walk around and look menacing, and only once or twice a night did he have to actually step in and boot a guy. Sarah had just joined the debate team. Like she needed any help with arguin’.

He'd only told a handful of friends, Tommy so that he knew if he was late to a job it wasn’t because he was on a bender but just because he was working late, a couple of the guys at poker night because he thought they might get a kick out of it. They had, immediately asking him to get them in without the cover charge. He’d refused, but in a good-natured way, and so far they’d steered clear of the place.

He wasn’t sure why he was shy about it, if that’s what it was. Giving the air of authority, trying to be respectful while the girls did their work. He mostly ignored the stage, felt his cheeks burn if he happened to look up to see a girl bent over, thong waving in a guy’s face. He scanned the floor, walked the halls outside the privates, kept his eye on the clock and the bar, waited for his break so he could take a load off and get away from the kick drum assaulting his temples.

The guys kept telling him he’d won the lottery, lucked out on a dream job. And he would agree, except for you.

He’d met you on his third shift, right when he was allowed to walk the floor without a supervisor. He was already learning how to read the floor, how to pick up on cues from the girls that a guy was trouble, was figuring out that just standing with a scowl on his face and his black shirt on in a darkened room was often times enough to keep a blowhard in line. He was getting used to the girls tipping him at the end of a shift, although it felt weird to take their money when he’d just seen how they made it. He was getting used to the dull ache in his knees, in the soles of his feet, reminding himself not to complain when he saw the six-inch plastic heels the girls traded in.

He was learning that each girl picked their music, that often times the songs they chose reflected their dance personas, the girls dancing to pop songs going for the cutesy vibe, the girls dancing to heavy guitar riffs and shouty lyrics dressed up in black and red lace, dangerous and menacing. He was getting used to the way the room shifted in response to whatever was going on stage, was noticing he needed to pay more attention when the younger-looking girls, the blondes in pigtails, took to the stage.

He felt the room go quiet, a kind of hush when your name was called. The shift was enough to make him pause, mid-stride, moving his gaze from a man trying to buy a drink for a girl he suspected was under 21, to the stage. The heavy bass hit him in the chest, the stage lights purple and red, when you emerged, thigh first, from behind the tatty little red curtain. You were all hips and cleavage, all gentle curves and smooth lines, skin glowing and buttery soft under the stage lights. You moved slowly, your hands ghosting over your breasts, as you made eye contact with every patron in the room, your red painted lips curling into a knowing smile as you regarded them, as you took purchase of them, as you measured them and found them all wanting. You were selecting your prey, he could see it in your eyes, and he was fully prepared for your gaze to skip over him, to see his outfit of black and his number around his neck and know that he was a non-starter, except that as soon as your eyes landed on him they stared there, and he could swear you added an extra little wiggle in your hips for him, an exaggerated dip as you held the pole to you and swivelled around it, as you winked at him, fucking winked right there in public like it wasn’t the most obscene thing you could have done in this environment, and he felt it then, that the two of you were in it together, that you had let him in on the grift, that if you were his Bonnie he would do everything he could to be your Clyde.

He turned as you got busy, gave you the privacy he felt you deserved as you shimmied your skirt down, and he found he had no idea where to look now, had forgotten his rotation, had been thrown completely from his rounds. He wanted a shot of hard whiskey, the proper shit that they kept for the high-rollers, he wanted to go out the back to the employee bathroom and dunk his head into the sink. He wanted to march up that stage and pull you off it, bundle you into his car and disappear with you into the night, his fingers nestled in your wet, wanting cunt as he drove, claiming it back from all the men you’d ever shown it to.

He balled up his fist, wondering what exactly had just fuckin’ happened to him, lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye he could see you revolving around the pole, your legs curling into the air in front of you so that, if he were to look, he would get a perfect view of Eden between your thighs.

He figured he should check the back room. It had probably been a while since anyone had.

You weren’t there every night. From askin’ around, none too subtly he suspected, he’d learned you were studying your master’s degree, taking classes in the daytime then coming by to work some shifts. You’d been there for a while, degrees are long and hard to get, and you mostly kept to yourself. Sometimes on slow nights you read your textbook in the dressing room until someone dropping cash came by. He felt his pulse quicken at this, at the earnestness of it, the innocence in it, and he resolved then that it would go no further. He would stop. He wouldn’t check the roster to see which nights you were working, wouldn’t watch the back door until he saw you appear, bundled up in a winter jacket and a heavy bag over your shoulder, in sneakers and jeans and somehow all the sexier for it, wouldn’t make shitty mistakes on the job site because he was distracted, waiting for your next shift to roll around, wouldn’t stalk the floor sullen and moody on the nights you weren’t in. He would do none of that, because he was too old for a schoolboy crush, because you were both working professionals, colleagues even, because it could never go anywhere without some sort of destruction, because Sarah was doing so damn well in her new school.

He watched out for you. That was his job, to watch out for all the girls. He watched out for you when you started to approach a guy who was already four drinks deep and threatening to get handsy, stepping in before you got to him to redirect him to a glass of water, then the door. He watched out for you when another girl got too drunk or too high and started causing a scene right beside where you were standing at the bar, pulling her away gently by the biceps before she could shatter a bottle and ricochet any glass into your general direction. He watched your back when you were in the privates, kept a respectable distance outside the open doorway, the little U-shaped couches meaning often times all he could see were the guy’s legs, sometimes the cream of your thighs as they dangled over his, the curve of your calf easing into the point of your heel. He watched out for you as you retreated to the dressing room for a break, kept an eye on the door to make sure no patrons tried to slip in while you were resting. He steered clear of the dressing room itself. That was your private space, you and all the girls. He had a little office back there, but he would just make sure to take everything he needed with him at the start of his shift, take his breaks in the back room amongst the toilet rolls and broken sound equipment.

He watched out for you when he wouldn’t let you tip him, figuring you needed it for school, gently pushing your hand away when you tried to pass him a twenty at the end of every shift.

Sunday nights were dead. Most of the girls never worked it, preferring instead the busier nights, the bucks’ parties and the bigger crowds. There was only a small subset of girls who worked the Sundays, the ones who tended to have regulars come in to visit them, the ones who liked the chilled-out vibe a little more, who used the downtime to practice new tricks on the pole or discuss hair removal and boob jobs right there on the floor. Those were the nights when he felt everyone was a little more themselves, that the grift was a little lesser, when the patrons were generally more well behaved so the girls could let their guards down. No one felt like getting up to all that much bullshit on a Sunday.

But his feet didn’t know any of that, protesting all the same despite the more relaxed vibes, and he was hovering behind one of the booths on the floor resting his hip on it to ease the pressure off one foot for a moment, before shifting his weight to the other. This little method meant he could stay standing, more or less in the same position, for sometimes up to an hour. But on the quiet nights, with so many empty booths around, it was all the harder to resist just sinking down into the cushions and stopping the blood pooling in his shoes.

Candy Jane was on stage, shifting her hips without much conviction, a couple of regulars already with their girls. He could see you, propped up in a corner booth, your eyes on the stage but unmoving. He thought you looked tired, wondered if your feet were hurting as much as his were, and he thought long and hard about sliding in beside you, pulling you into his lap and nudging your head onto his shoulder.

You looked up, then, swivelling your eyes to him and he felt his stomach drop. He was about to start another round of the privates just for something to do but you were getting up on your feet, strolling over to him, the singles and twenties strapped to your thigh by your garter.

‘Joel,’ you said, grabbing his hand and pushing him into a booth behind him. ‘Come sit by me, I’m bored.’

He had seen you flirt with the patrons, a kind of hyper-sexualised bunny thing that promised them every sexual desire they could ask for without ever actually delivering, the art of the tease so acute in you that none of them seemed to even realise they’d been played. He marvelled at that, always kind of admired it, at the street smarts of the girls extracting money from the men who thought they had any power in the situation. He looked at you now, sitting an arm’s length away from him, and felt almost entirely under your spell.

‘Not s’posed to sit on the floor when I’m workin,’ he said, almost apologetic, and you shrugged your shoulders at him.

‘It’s dead, Joel-y,’ you said, and you weren’t flirting with him now, you were just yourself, and he liked you all the better this way, all the more for the earnestness of you, for this version of you none of the other men ever got to see.

‘Just don’t be offended if I have’ta get up and leave quick,’ he said, and you smiled at him.

‘I don’t think you could ever do anything offensive,’ you said, and you were kind of teasing him but also really meant it, and you watched him blush, shifting his body in his chair to face a little further from the stage. ‘Why don’t you watch?’ you asked, rolling your ankles and feeling the tendons stretch. You were hoping your regular would show up soon so you could finally earn something, the house fee already putting you in the red.

‘S’not right to watch, not here for my…jollies,’ he finished, and you grinned at him.

‘Your jollies?’ you teased. He huffed out a shy laugh, looking down at his lap.

‘Y’know what I mean,’ he went on. ‘M’workin’, we’re all workin’.

‘You aren’t curious to take a peek?’ you asked, leaning closer to him. If he was a better man, he would have been able to resist the urge to peak down the top of your dress, the silly little spandex straps barely holding you in, your tits heaving with your breath and with how heavily you were teasing him.

‘Course I am,’ he confessed, almost hissing it out over the bass thumping through his body.

‘A man of principles,’ you appraised, moving back to give him a little break, wondering if he was hard yet. You knew he watched you closely, knew that he lingered outside the doorway for you more than any other girl when you were in a private, knew that he was going out of his way not to look at you when you danced on stage, and the innocence of it, the thrill of it when you had everyone else’s attention except his, it fascinated and annoyed and scolded you, tickled you around the collarbone. You watched as he scratched at the salt and pepper patches dotting his jaw, at how he swallowed so hard his muscle ticked and strained under the force of it.

‘Why don’t you take my tips?’ you asked. Candy’s dance slot was nearly over, and you were waiting to see Destiny. She’d promised to show you one of her new pole tricks hanging inverted, and even after all this time you still hadn’t worked up the courage to do that.

‘You need to save ‘em up, get your degree,’ he answered, without thinking, finding it so hard to think through the want for you, for the proximity of you, now that he could smell your perfume and feel your body heat along his side.

‘You know about that?’ you asked, surprised.

Oh shit, he thought. Just like that he’d fucked it.

‘One of the other guards, he mentioned it. Said he saw you reading a textbook one time,’ he covered, as quickly as he could given the circumstances. You nodded at him, as if this satisfied you, but he wasn’t sure if he’d actually pulled it off. His throat was dry, and it was so hot in the club, was it always this hot in the damn club? First chance he got he was gonna call his HVAC guy.

‘What are you studying?’ he asked, but you were smiling then, eyes bright and over his shoulder.

‘Hey, Javi!’ you squealed, giggling and rising from the booth, pushing your chest out and wiggling towards the man Joel had come to recognise as your regular. The lucky bastard always wore aviators, his jeans so tight Joel was surprised he didn’t burst a button when he got a hard on, his moustache quirking up in greeting to you. Joel wondered if you would ever squeal and rush towards him like that, not caring for one second that it was just part of the grift.

You’re not on shift, haven’t been on shift for a week, and his bones itch under his skin, his feet pacing up and down the carpet outside the privates, patrolling the floor like it insulted him. He hates that he checks the roster at the start of every shift and doesn’t see your name listed, hates that he’s worried about you; that you’re sick, that you’re hurt, that you’ve fucking left. He’s useless at his real job, nearly degloving his entire hand with a band saw he was so distracted wondering if he’d see you that night. This can’t go on, and he knows that, but he just needs to know what happened to you, just needs to know that you’re OK, and then he can get back to being dead inside.

Because that’s what you’ve done to him, he realises. You’ve made him feel alive. He can’t resent you for it, you didn’t know it was what you’d done, but it sets his teeth on edge and it unnerves him in a way that makes him consider quitting, finding another club, maybe not a titty-bar, maybe something he can actually put on his resume. He considers it while simultaneously knowing he won’t do it, would never do it, that he’s too far gone even while he can’t go any further.

He stops checking the roster. It hurts in a way he can’t quite get his head around, a pain he doesn’t have any room to accommodate sitting tight and hot in his chest. He keeps his eyes on the patrons and the clock. He takes his breaks in the back room. He feels tired down to the bone.

Two weeks after he’d last seen you, he starts his shift the way he always does, going into the back before too many girls arrive to put his bag in his locker and fill his pockets with whatever he’ll need for the rest of the night. He’s busy trying to put a protein bar in his pocket in such a way that it doesn’t look like he has a hard on when he hears footsteps behind him.

‘Joel-y’, you say, and he swings his head towards the sound so hard he thinks he hears something snap. You’re smiling at him, dressed in your jeans and a Fleetwood Mac tee, and he has to consciously remind his heart to keep beating. You’re holding one of your enormous heels in your hand.

‘Where have you been?’ he blurts out, not caring that he sounds needy. You blink at him, surprised.

‘You missed me?’ you ask, and you’re teasing him but he doesn’t care, because he’s glad all over that you’re back and he’ll take all the sass in the world from you if you just stay there.

‘You didn’t…’ Didn’t what, he thinks. Didn’t check in with me? Say goodbye? There’s no reason why you would have. Didn’t promise you weren’t grossed out by him, that he’d made you so uncomfortable you’d gone to work at another club? ‘You didn’t mention you were taking a break,’ he said, eventually.

‘Oh, I had mid-terms,’ you say, breezily. He’s stepping out of his little office now, trying to put space between you before he says something else blatantly insane and stupid, hoping to go back to just looking at you from dark corners while he furtively hopes you don’t see.

‘Wait,’ you say to him, grabbing him by the arm. You hold your shoe up, and he can see where the strap has come away from the base. He takes it from you, feels the brush of your fingertips as he does it, tries to ignore the little flip in his tummy.

‘Leave it with me,’ he says, stepping towards the backroom where he knows there’s superglue. ‘You got another pair?’

‘Yeah, but those are my favourites,’ you say, looking up at him carefully, watching his face for something. You haven’t got your heavy stage make-up on yet, haven’t curled your hair into gentle waves, and you’re so beautiful like this, he thinks, when he can see the actual colour of your lips, your cheeks.

‘Twenty minutes,’ he says. You smile at him. He wonders if you’ll put your hand on his arm again. You turn away.

In the backroom he sits on an upturned milk crate, holding the strap to the base so the superglue will affix to it. If he had his tools he would try and nail it down, but there’s a chance he could shatter the base and these heels seem expensive for something that makes all you girls look so darn cheap.

Your shoes are so small in his hands, and he imagines just for a second its your foot he’s cradling in his lap. He has the presence of mind just enough to wonder what fucked up version of Cinderella he’s trying to live.

He checks the strap, pulls hard on it three times, before he’s satisfied enough to give it back to you.

He realises his error, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. He had mentioned to the guys at poker that Sundays were the quiet ones, that the music was just low enough to be able to think, that the girls mostly entertained themselves while their regulars paid them to chat, sometimes to dance. Where you could always get a seat at the tipping rail, could even swing a three song dance out of a twenty if the girl was bored enough.

He feels the drop in his stomach when he sees them, approaching the bar en masse. He can’t remember where you are, he’d lost sight of you between the booths on the floor and the privates, and he tries to remember what time your stage slot was, having checked the roster again despite swearing black and blue he wouldn’t. They haven’t seen him yet, and he wonders if he can just slip out the back and make a break for it, tell them he was sick so he wasn’t working, and they need to fucking call him first. He knows them, knows that they’re not bad guys, that they’re here to keep him company and maybe see some butt while they’re at it. But it stirs in him a deep panic, that they will see you, that they’ll get their eyes on you before he’s really even let himself have a chance to, before he can make you all his own.

A silly little delirious part of him, right at the back of his skull, whispers that it’ll make your wedding really awkward. He shoos it away like an errant mosquito.

Benny sees him, then, is waving him over.

‘Joel, we made it!’ he yells over the music, the guys turning to him to welcome him into the circle. Tommy is already at the bar ordering the beers, but he nods to his big brother. Joel worries for a second that you’ll like his brother better, before he remembers you don’t even like him at all.

He stalks over to him, his jaw aching from the strain, while he looks through the darkness to try and find you. He’ll just have to run interference for a while, keep them busy while you work the floor, try and bundle them back out into the cold before your stage slot.

‘Gentlemen,’ he says, laced with irony, and they’re slapping him on the back, welcoming him in. He reminds himself these guys are mostly Tommy’s friends. Wouldn’t be that sad if he never saw them again.

Frankie tries to hand him a beer but he pushes it away. ‘Workin’.’ He says, simply.

‘More f’me,’ Frankie grins from under his cap.

‘So where’s the best place to sit?’ Benny asks, surveying the room. There are a couple of girls walking the floor, Amber on the stage twisting her hips to the music while staring out over all of their heads.

‘You gotta tip if you sit on the rail,’ Joel says, simply, and Benny nods.

‘I got singles!’ Pope says, ever the responsible one, always the one planning. ‘Sorry, hermano, not enough for you.’ Joel grins at him. Pope can stay, he thinks. Pope will keep his mouth shut.

‘Look, you sit in that booth there,’ Joel says, pointing them to the centre of the room, ‘you can see the stage perfect. You wanna tip a girl though, you gotta get up onta the rail, make sure they know about it.’ He leans in a little, like he’s sharing a secret. ‘These girls work real hard. Make sure you treat ‘em right, ok? They’re good girls. Smart girls. You don’t come here just to look and not sling ‘em some hard earned.’

‘Yes sir,’ Pope says, making a salute that Joel considers might actually be real. He can’t be sure. Tommy was the one who spent a few years in the army with them, not him.

‘Vamos!’ Pope calls, rounding them up and shoving them down onto the cushions. Now Joel just needs to figure out where you are.

You keep fuckin’ evading him. One minute you’re in a private, the next you’re at the bar chatting to a patron, trying to get him to buy off the top shelf. Electra is on the stage, and Tommy is entranced by her, the bills practically falling out of his hands while she bends to pick them up with her teeth. It’s distracting Joel, trying to keep an eye on them while also trying to keep distance between you, and the boys are inviting girls over to them, beckoning to them from the stage to come sit by them, and he knows it’s not long before your dance slot is up, knows that as soon as they see you they’ll want you, that they’ll beckon you over, that you’ll fuckin’ go.

He can’t be everywhere, can’t keep doing his job while also trying to manage this situation, has to keep pacing the privates to keep the other patrons in line. He never thought there’d be a time that he wished that fuckin’ Javi guy would show up just to keep you out of sight for a while.

They keep calling to him, too, trying to get him to come over and sit down no matter how many times he explains to them he’s working, that the girls need him to keep an eye on things. Will’s trying to keep a straight face but he’s snickering up at him, and Joel wonders what’s so damn funny.

‘Bet you do keep an eye on things,’ he grins, a little shit-eating thing that makes Joel’s hand curl into a fist. He shakes it loose, the music making it so hard to think, jarring his nervous system. He’s about to say something, about to find a reason to throw the lot of them out, when your name gets called over the loudspeaker. You’re being called to the stage. You’re up next. On the stage.

He has approximately thirty seconds to do something. He is completely rooted to the spot. At the tipping rail his little brother is waiting, dollars in hand. He thinks he might pass out or puke, possibly both and not in that order. His head is swimming. ‘Not like this,’ he thinks. He just doesn’t want you to meet his friends like this.

‘Holy shit,’ he hears Pope say, and he turns to the stage. Your thigh is appearing around the curtain, the shoe he fixed for you running up and down its raggedy edge. You’re all swagger and tits tonight, your hair swept over one eye, and he’s transfixed for a second, completely unable to move, as you shimmy up to the centre of the stage, take the pole in your hand and swivel, kicking your legs out behind you so that you corkscrew down to your knees. Pope is moving to the tipping rail, Benny following close behind. Tommy is leaning forward on his elbows, pulled in by you almost on instinct, and you’ve clocked him now, crawling on your hands and knees towards him.

For a second, Joel sees you pause, studying Tommy’s face, before you search for him in the crowd. You’ve noticed the family connection, and he freezes, terrified of your reaction. Are you going to be angry? Feel betrayed? Hurt that he’s brought his friends here to ogle you, to watch your hips shimmy and your tits bounce? Has he broken some kind of professional code, could he get fuckin’ fired for this, will you never speak to him again? He tries to communicate to you with his eyes that he didn’t bring them here, that he doesn’t want this, that whatever the fuck’s going on with these guys he wants no part in it. He wants you to know he sees you, you in jeans and a tee shirt, that it’s that you he wants.

For a long moment you stare at each other, Joel’s pulse heavy and thick in his ears. You lean back, rear up so that all your weight is on your knees. You run your hand up your side and into your mouth where you bite down on your index finger. You keep your eyes fixed right on his. You wink.

So, this is what its like to have a heart attack, Joel thinks. It’s slower than he expected. It’s been hours, and the guys are still here, and by some stroke of divinity or possible the opposite, so is he.

The number of times he’s reminded the guys they have work in the morning. How he’s complained that the music is giving him a headache, and man that pounding base makes it hard to think, and wouldn’t it be fun if they all went to a sports bar, see if the replay of the Knicks game is on? But they can’t leave yet, won’t leave, because they want to see you on stage again, want one last look at your creamy thighs and your bucking hips before they go home and jerk off thinking of their tongues in your cunt. He’s going to have an aneurysm right here on the goddamn floor of this fuckin’ strip club. Sarah’s gonna find out where he’s been workin’ all this time.

The one thing his brother has done for him, the one thing Tommy has done right in his life, is to lay down a rule before they got there that they can’t get any private dances.

‘Didn’t come out here to see ya’ll with hard-ons’, he reminds them, and they snicker but begrudgingly agree, and Joel won’t lie that he feels a surge of pride in his fuckin’ idiot baby brother and his one good idea.

Joel knows the girls are on a roughly two-hour rotation, that by the end of the night all of them will have been on stage about three times. The only problem is that if a girl’s in a private she gets skipped until she’s ready, so sometimes some girls might even need to do more. It seems especially cruel to him that if a girl’s having a bad night, not reeling anything in, not making any money on her own that she gets paraded out even more to the baying crowds of disinterested patrons. He’s seen a few girls with tears in their eyes on the way to the dressing room, complaining of an off night. He’s been around long enough to know that these happen, that there’s no rhyme or reason to them really, just that sometimes that particular girl just isn’t flavour of the night. He’s never seen it with you, though. Never seen you fail to take a man by the hand and lead him down the dark corridor to the u-shaped couches if you deem him worthy. It burns him up with jealousy and also he’s proud of you for it. His good girl taking no prisoners.

He wonders if he can tell the DJ to take you off the rotation, if you’ll notice if you just don’t get called again, but he also knows it would be messing with your money, that Pope and Benny and Will are making good on their promise to tip well. That you’ve got bills and a college degree to earn, that the fact that he’s sick in the guts with a jealous want doesn’t matter, should never be part of the equation when it comes to you.

He does another round, still hoping to see you, still hoping to find you in a private somewhere, but you’ve made yourself scarce and he wonders if it’s because of him, because of his friends being here, worries that he’s embarrassed you. There’s only one other place you could be, tucked away in the dressing room hiding out, unless you’ve just got dressed and left completely, not even bothering with the attempt to tip him tonight.

He shouldn’t but also he needs to, knocks hard on the door and calls out that it’s him before he pushes it open. With all the lights on around the mirrors the place has a warm glow, and he scans quickly to make sure he’s alone before he pushes himself into the room. You’re not here, either, which means he doesn’t know where you are, and he feels a little flare of panic in his sternum. He rests his hand on it, trying to steady his catching breath. He should check the roster. Maybe you had an early finish.

He nearly steps on you when he rounds the corner into his little office. You’re lying flat on your back on the floor, headphones over your ears. For a terrible second he thinks you’ve passed out in here before he realises you’re tapping your feet, your head swaying back and forth to the music only you can hear. He leans down and pushes, gentle, at your shoulder. Your eyes snap open and you startle, pulling the headphones free.

‘Jesus,’ you say, and he steps back again, hangs around the door.

‘Sorry,’ he says, hands up in appeasement. ‘Didn’t mean to scare ya.’

‘No, no, I’m sorry,’ you say, scrambling to stand. Your heels are catching on the carpet and you waver, Joel coming forward to steady you. ‘Sometimes I come by here and stretch out my back a little, the heels are…hard work,’ you say, and he realises you’re blushing, that you think he’s mad. He shakes his head at you, brows saddled.

‘S’ok,’ he says, not letting go of your arm.

‘You’re just not normally in here,’ you say, and you look up at him then, fixing your eyes on his.

‘You can come here any time you like,’ he says. Wants to add that everything you ever wanted he will get for you, that anything you ever asked he would do.

‘-nks,’ you say, feeling shy all of a sudden, realising the size of his hands for the first time.

‘I didn’t know they were comin’,’ he says, trying to keep his voice steady, and you blink for a second, trying to understand. ‘I didn’t invite ‘em, they just showed up.’

‘So, he is your brother,’ you say, smiling now. Joel nods his head at you, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

‘He’s cute,’ you say. ‘Runs in the family.’

Joel grunts at this, can’t quite believe he’s heard it, tries really hard to think straight. You’re wearing practically nothing in his little office on a quiet Sunday night while his brother and four of his friends throw dollars at random half-naked women. It’s a lot to take in.

‘They’re not getting dances,’ you observe, and Joel shakes his head.

‘Their decision, outta respect or somethin’, I guess.’

‘Respect for you?’ you clarify.

‘Each other, I think.’

‘Oh, that’s silly,’ you say. He feels the heat up his neck, a bloom of something worrisome in his tummy. ‘That’s like going to Disneyland and not getting on any of the rides.’

‘I’m gonna have to beg you to rephrase that,’ Joel says, and you grin at him. He can see that flirty sex bunny emerging in you again, can see that you’re up to somethin’, his brain too addled with the smell of you in his office to figure what.

You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you smile, your little dimple on your right cheek popping up when you’re thinking of something sneaky. He wants to kiss it every morning in the warm light of dawn. Wants you wrapped up in his sheets, hair stretched over his pillow, his hands on your tummy and your breast while he eases his fingers between your thighs.

‘Breaks over then, I guess,’ you say, and you’re practically bouncing out of the room now, his brain working just enough to remind him to follow you. He’s three or four paces behind, alarmed at how fast you can go with those heels on, and he sees it now, that you’re making a beeline for them, that you’re a woman on a mission to finally tip him over the edge, to send him right to his grave.

He can only watch, helplessly, trying to figure which one you’ll reach for. Prays it’s not Tommy. Or Will. Or Benny. Or fuckin’ Frankie. For some reason he thinks Pope might be OK. He watches, his pulse hard and racing in his throat, as you approach, six paces from them, then four, then three. Tommy’s noticed you, is pushing back his chair.

And right before you get to them, right before you’re within grasping reach of his brother, you turn, pivot on your heel to the bar, where fuckin’ Javi is waiting for you, cigarette hanging out of his mouth and beer in hand, one knee cocked to the side. You melt into his arms, resting your head on his shoulder, and somehow Joel is relieved and also it’s so much fucking worse then he could ever imagine, burns him brighter than if you had chosen one of his friends, knows that it’s both a lifeline and a spool of barbed wire you’ve thrown him, knows that he’s latched onto it anyway, can feel the tug and tear of his skin.

He's hovering outside the privates. His friends have finally packed it in, it’s nearing 1 AM, and in all the commotion he’d forgotten that his feet are killing him, and they’re really crying for his attention now. But he ain’t leavin’ you alone with that Javi guy, doesn’t trust the way his shirts never fuckin’ fit.

He’s so tired, the adrenaline of the night leaking out of him just to leave him wavering and empty, and he feels like he’s on his last nerve, the stress of the evening, the strangeness of it, wearing him down to the stub. But your little shoe sat right in the palm of his hand, but you went to this office to relax when you thought he wouldn’t know about it, but you fuckin’ winked at him like the rest of the room wasn’t even goddamn there, and he ain’t leavin’ you now.

And if he leans on the wall a little, takes the weight off one foot and transfers it up into his shoulder, if he cocks his head to the side, he can just peek you, see Javi’s tight jeans and the plush of you bottom as you grind it on him, your arms up over your head to make your sweet little tits sway in his face.

He shouldn’t be hard at work. Shouldn’t be leaning like this, crowding himself into the corner to get a better look. He knows there are camera in the hallways, as much to keep an eye on the staff as to keep a watch on the patrons, and he knows that somewhere footage is being collected of him right now peeping in on you. He doesn’t fuckin’ care. He can see the way your stockings are banding too tight across your thighs, and he wants to sooth the skin with his tongue, pull the nylon off you and kiss his way around the angry red rings in your flesh. He can see your hips rocking to the music, your hair swaying down your back. Your hands moving to grasp behind you, pushing your chest up and out into Javi’s face.

And he sees it then, the way Javi’s hands are hovering, lifting off the couch and threatening to come down on your skin. The club has a strict no-touchin’ policy, it was drilled into him on his first day. That’s an infraction worthy enough to get him booted out of here, never allowed to set foot in this fine establishment of dirty tomfoolery ever again. Joel swallows, his eyes now fixed on Javi’s hands, waiting for the moment they brush against your soft, glittering skin, takes a step forward towards the doorway, doesn’t even notice that you’ve pivoted, your hands on Javi’s knees as you grind your bottom down, leaning back to rest your head on Javi’s shoulder. Locking eyes with Joel.

His cock is throbbing in time to the music. The bass thrums in his chest. You hook your knees over Javi’s, first the left then the right, and push them open just enough to give Joel a tease. You’re still in your thong but it’s enough for Joel to see the sheen of the fabric, that you’re wet down there in the valley between your thighs. He licks his lips, a hand coming to rest on his chest, as he gazes at you with the kind of want that sets your nervous system on fire.

You’re swivelling your hips on Javi, can feel that he’s hard underneath you, but you want it to be Joel, want more than his eyes on you now that you’ve got them, want his hands and his tongue and his cock. You whimper, and you hear Javi groan behind you, as if any of this is for him. Javi pulls his knees further apart, unknowingly opens you up for Joel, and there’s a moment where you feel more naked then when you’re topless in front of fifty strange men. Joel has stripped you bare, to the quick. You can see how fast he’s breathing by the way his hand rises and falls on his chest. You time your movements to it, jerk your hips as if he’s breathing his touch into you from across the room.

Except he’s mad, now, you can see the way his brows have furrowed, the way his jaw has set, and you’re too hot and too overwhelmed to realise until the last moment that Javi has his hands on you, is cupping your breasts from behind, trying to reach from behind to tweak your nipples, pulling you further down into his chest to rub more fully on his cock.

Joel’s with you in four strides and you reach for him, both arms lifting up to his as he wrenches you free, screams at Javi to back off, pulls you behind him and shields you with his body while he threatens to beat Javi to a pulp before throwing him out onto the street, then beating him to death where the cameras don’t point.

‘You don’t fuckin’ touch her,’ he’s yelling, and he can feel that his throat is raw, dry, but he can’t fuckin’ think over the crushing beat in his ears, realises after a couple of stilted moments that it’s not the music that’s deafening him but that it’s his heart, that he’s vibrating with fury and want, that Javi has backed up a bit on the couch and lifted his hands in the air but hasn’t scurried away, that he’s not scared or worried at all, that he got to put his hands on heaven and will do nothing to apologise for it, and something snaps in Joel, something feral and needy and primal, something that has been chewing at the bars of its cage for months.

He pulls you to him and you gasp, can feel Joel’s pulse through your back as he manoeuvres you to rest on his chest, lifts one foot up onto the couch while he strips your thong from you, spreads you open for Javi, your body weight leaning on his as he holds you with just one arm around you.

‘This is how you fuckin’ touch her,’ Joel seethes, pushing his hand down over your belly and onto your waiting cunt, cupping your slit and teasing the slick gathering there up and over your clit. You gasp, the leg you have planted on the floor shaking as he strums, gently but somehow so firm, and you can feel yourself opening up to him, your cunt wet and aching, trying to draw him in.

‘You seein’ this, see how wet she gets for me?’ he’s saying, and you glance down to see that Javi is indeed watching, shock on his face and locked in a kind of paralysis, his eyes flicking between your cunt and Joel’s furious face. ‘You couldn’t get this from her,’ Joel is saying, and you’re leaning back into him because your knees are definitely going to buckle, but he holds you firm and steady, and you lift your face up to the ceiling and gasp.

Joel isn’t thinking, just listening to you, just letting his fingers finally touch what he’s dreamt about for months. Your sopping cunt is probably dribbling onto his pants and he doesn’t care, wants it there, wants you deep down in the fibres of the fabric where he’ll never scrub you free. You gasp again when he pushes two fingers in, feels your walls expand to accommodate him, raises the heel of his palm to ease the stretch by rubbing quick little circles on your clit.

‘Slide right in,’ he says, his unhinged commentary gritting out over the music, loud enough for just you and Javi to hear. ‘S’what happens when you’ve got her achin’ for ya,’ he says matter-of-factly.

You’re rolling your hips now, unable to help yourself as you arch your back, wanting to twist in his arms and sink your teeth into his neck, lick and lave at his collarbone, keen into his skin until the sound of it attaches itself to his bones.

‘Look at that pretty cunt,’ Joel is still saying, almost frantic now, the heat on his skin making it impossible to think of anything else, anything so complex as consequences. He’s lost in the touch of it, in the way Javi is looking at him imploringly, the way he can see that this pompous fuckin’ arsehole is getting a schoolin’ on pleasuring a woman, in the way you’re gasping and whimpering just for him. ‘S’mine,’ he says, twisting his fingers up to the knuckle in you, hooking into the spongey spot he knows will make you see stars.

He wants Javi to beg him to stop. Wants him to get down on his knees and apologise, wants him to swear he’ll never come back. But he’s distracted, because you’re calling to him now, the sound of your sweet cries of his name echoing through the vacant halls of his brain.

‘Joel-y’, you’re whimpering, babbling. ‘Joel-y, please,’ and you’re not even sure what you’re asking for, just that he’s torturing you, setting you on fire right here in the privates, that the pleasure he’s wringing from you is too much, too overwhelming, that you want to collapse into him but you’re still trying to bear some of your weight, that your thighs are wobbling and your body is screaming at you to let go but you can’t, not in this position, no matter how good it is, because you can’t get purchase, you can’t grind, the heel of his hand is too blunt on your clit.

He can sense it, that he’s trapped you right where it’s too much and not enough, and a part of him wants to leave you there, wants to make you feel what he’s felt all those weeks he spent waitin’ for ya, checkin’ that fucking roster like a goddamn fuckin’ dog, causin’ all those little fuck ups at the job site thinkin’ about this little cunt wrapped so tight around his knuckles.

But he’s not cruel.

‘Lick it,’ he barks out, gesturing down your body to Javi while he pushes you forward, shifts your weight more fully to the couch. You instinctually hook your knee over Javi’s shoulder, the extra leverage finally giving you purchase enough to properly move. ‘Suck her little clit ‘til she fuckin’ soaks me,’ Joel says, and there’s no arguing with him, not that you would, not that Javi would by the look on his face.

He's looking uncertain, like this might be a trap, and you reach down and grab his hair in your hand. ‘Please, Javi,’ you say, and he’s on you then, without further hesitation, his lips catching your little bud and grasping it between his teeth. You scream, feel Joel jostle you until your head is twisted around to bury in his neck, and you can feel more than hear the little rasps of encouragement as he talks you through it.

‘Such a good girl f’me,’ he’s saying, and you’re barely registering it, but your cunt is listening, clamping down hard on his fingers as Javi grips you with his mouth. ‘Teachin’ us both a thing or two, ain’t ya, baby? Showin’ us just how to treat a sexy little cunt like yours.’

You’re going to die. You’re going to burst into flames. There’s just no question in your mind that this is how you go, but you just fucking hope that you’ll get to come before it happens. It’s like every single nerve ending is now in your pussy, like you are only breathing Joel and Javi, your body sandwiched between them as you grip Javi’s head to you and twist in joyous agony against Joel’s chest.

‘Wanna hear you, baby,’ Joel’s whispering again. ‘Wanna hear it when ya come f’me.’

You open your eyes, look down your body to Javi, where he’s watching you, his eyes travelling up your body to rest on your face. He’s palming his cock, you can see the way his arm is moving up and down slowly, and you can feel Joel throbbing behind you.

‘Don’t look at him,’ Joel admonishes, and you slam your eyes shut, turn again to bury your head in his neck. ‘He can’t help ya,’ Joel goes on. ‘S’just there to make you come, baby.’

God it’s fucking debauched, is what it is. It’s filthy and sweaty and you’re so wet, and you feel sexier than you ever have, feel the power in your body and in your desire, feel the way you have finally, finally brought something feral out in Joel. You’re going to come, because Joel has determined that you are going to, and you just know without him even telling you so that he won’t let you go until you have, until he is satisfied that he has wrung out every last whimper from you, until you are sated and he is confident his job is done.

Javi’s licking hard at your clit now, sometimes sucking on it, and you slam your hips down onto Joel’s hand when he does it, rock your knee to bring Javi closer to you, try to swallow him with your cunt and your hands in his hair.

You can’t get enough breath to warn them. It’s just going to happen, they’re just going to throw you over the edge and into the abyss and you can’t even tell them they’re about to do it. Joel sees it though, feels the way your cunt is gripping him.

‘Do it, baby,’ he’s gritting into your ear, catching every roll of your hips so you won’t fall. ‘Show him what it’s like when I wreck you.’

And you do, then. Harder than you ever have in your life, your lungs pillowing out in your chest to suck in all the air available to them, your wails lost to the music as streams of your slick press into Javi’s face, where you soak him and Joel behind you, shivering and convulsing as you topple over the peak, dimly aware of Joel’s words in your ear as you go, calling you his pretty girl, his beautiful, perfect girl. His girl, his girl, his.

There are too many broken workplace safety rules to count, so Joel doesn’t bother. He knows he’s lost his job, that the cameras will have picked up all of that, that as he drops his ID badge and set of keys on the desk in his little office that it was worth it, that you were worth it. He’ll get another job, find a bar open just as late as this one even if it’s further out of town, will travel and will keep Sarah in school and will keep the memory of your sweet little cunt fluttering around his fingers locked up tight in the back of his brain for when the nights are cold and lonely.

When he drives you home, bundles you up in his car and puts the heater on full blast to keep you warm, you tell him that you finished your degree weeks ago, that you were lying about the mid-terms, that you had actually been down in Florida helping your mother move your grandpa into care. It hadn’t seemed necessary to talk about them in that environment, you said, and he rests his hand on your knee because he understands, and also because he likes you.

He doesn’t ask for your number. Knows you probably wouldn’t give it to him, is too afraid that you’d regret everything that you did together, that you were humouring him with even letting him drop you home, that this isn’t even your house.

He only found it later, written in your neat writing, your number and your real name, when he was stripping his pants off himself and dumping them into the hamper, his come collected on the inside where he exploded as he rutted against you, as he listened to your desperate, whimpering cries for him.

He tacks the little piece of paper to the mirror, memorising the digits in case one day it falls. He isn’t gonna call it. He just wants it there, a reminder of you and what you’ve made him feel, how you’ve lifted him, freed something in him. He just wants it there. Proof that you were real.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #joel miller x female reader

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igbylicious · 7 months ago

Text

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt7

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, light angst, neighbours au, friends with benefits

ch. summary: San opens up, Wooyoung cooks, and time passes.

wc: 5.7k

ch. warnings: no full-blown sex scene but there is smuttish content, dom San, sub Wooyoung, sub reader, strip poker, dry humping, cumming in pants, thigh-riding, overstimulation, titty fuck, light cumplay, vaginal fingering, blindfolds, gettin’ giggly during (an attempt at) sex

San background story: UNLOCKED. Comes with a pinch of angst over a strained past relationship.

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, epilogue

“Yes, Dad, I’ll tell Wooyoung. No I won’t forget, don’t worry about it. Say hi to Mom for me, okay?”

San ends the call, an amused yet weary smile on his face.

“…Did your dad call you just to ask you to ask Wooyoung to call him?”

You stifle a laugh at what you just witnessed, putting a container of blueberries in the shopping cart. The grocery store hums with the sound of background music and other customers around you, not too crowded but still busy enough for a random weekday afternoon.

It’s a sweltering day, afflicted by an early burst of summer heat, and so San has opted for a basic white sleeveless shirt with jeans while you and him go through the shopping list that Wooyoung compiled. It is a true testament to your steady exposure to San’s physique that you aren’t constantly distracted by his bare arms — just a perfectly reasonable amount. (So… still a lot.)

“Yeah, he did…” San sighs, shaking his head as he puts his phone away. He picks up a watermelon and taps it to check for ripeness, a pout still lingering on his lips. “Dad has Wooyoung’s number, I don’t get it at all.”

“Wait, really? That’s… actually kinda cute.”

San stares at you, watermelon still in his hands. “‘Cute’?”

“Yeah! It’s like an excuse for him to also call you, right?” you shrug, picking out some nice-looking peaches.

“Why doesn’t he just call me if he wants to call me,” San sulks, but there is the tiniest hint of smile on his lips. “I swear, he can be such a weirdo.”

“Hm. What’s that thing they say about apples and trees?” you ask nonchalantly.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean!”

“San, you are kindof a weirdo.”

“Funny,” he corrects you firmly. “I am funny.”

“Don’t get me wrong, weird is good. I like weird! But your dad did call right when you were trying to convince me that you’re secretly immortal.”

“I’m just saying there’s no proof that I’m not! Have I ever died? No!” San says, like he has just outplayed you with the most brilliant ‘gotcha’ in human history.

“Alright, Mr. Immortal,” you grin at him, pushing the cart further along, “then why are you such a scaredy cat anyway? I’ve seen you get jump-scared by Byeol more times than I can count. You have nothing to fear, right?”

“Hey, that cat is a ninja,” San counters, comically serious. “She can get the drop on anyone. There is no shame in getting scared by Byeol.”

Good-natured arguments aside, you and San are a well-oiled machine in the store. You do your groceries together on the regular; it started off one time when you impulsively texted San whether he needed anything, since you figured he’d be tired from working all day after a late night with you and Wooyoung.

But instead of sending a list, San decided to just come with you. Ever since then, it’s grown into a habit for either of you to text a little 🛒❓ before you go out to the store. Sometimes you pick stuff up for San, sometimes he picks stuff up for you, but more often it turns into a group effort.

Just like today; ticking off the shopping list that Wooyoung charged you with. He’s cooking tonight, and you’re excited to finally taste for yourself whether Wooyoung’s promised ‘perk’ of friendship lives up to expectations.

San certainly believes it will, hyping up Wooyoung’s skills as you make your way through the grocery store. You listen to him with a fond smile, slightly worried that Wooyoung might not be able to live up to the sky-high expectations, but also endeared by San’s open adoration of his boyfriend.

Since it’s a hot day, you and San also pick up two ice cream sandwiches, and walk home together.

You squint at San, who lugs around both the watermelon and a heavy bag of groceries. “San, this is ridiculous. I should carry something too.”

San grins. “Nah, you already have your hands full! With snacks!” He eyes his sandwich, then blatantly opens his mouth at you.

“Yeah, and if I took the watermelon, it’d free you up to hold your own,” you point out, but you raise up the frozen snack to his lips so he can take a bite anyway.

He shakes his head with a full mouth, barely taking time to swallow before he makes his protests known. “That makes no sense to me. Besides, it evens up this way,” he says, lifting his hand with the grocery bag up to his shoulder like it’s a dumbbell, then slowly lowering it back down.

“…Weirdo.” You affectionately roll your eyes at him and feed him another bite.

The ice cream sandwiches are gone by the time you reach your apartment building, where you take the elevator up to the top floor. Hands free, you open the door to San’s home and join him inside.

“Aish, Byeol no!” San poutingly scolds his cat when you step into his living room, where Byeol is sitting on the coffee table like it’s her throne. She turns her head at him, lets out a little ‘mrrp’, and refuses to move an inch — and San does nothing to actually remove her from the table, just leaving her be. (What a softie, you think warmly.)

“Wooyoung will be here soon, right?” you ask while you unpack groceries together in the kitchenette; you take them out of the bag, San puts them away or on the counter for later cooking. He also puts some sweet rice in a bowl to soak, as requested by Wooyoung.

“Yeah, shouldn’t be more than—” San starts, but he is interrupted when his phone buzzes insistently yet again. He looks at the name on the screen, and grimaces at you. “Shit, sorry, mind if I take this?”

“Aren’t you popular today,” you tease him. “Go for it.”

San shoots you a look of apologetic gratitude, and answers the call. “Yunho, hey man! Listen, can I call you tomorrow? I got someone over right now. No, not Wooyoung, it’s my neighbour. Y-yes, that neighbour. From next door.”

You had walked over to the coffee table to lure Byeol off the surface, careful so she doesn’t knock San’s reading glasses onto the floor. But when San mentions you, you look up just in time to see how his ears have gone slightly red, and he grimaces at the eye-contact.

“Okay, talk to you tomorrow, Yun-ah!”

You raise an eyebrow at him from your place on the couch, with the fierce and terrifying ninja cat purring loudly in your arms. “So… I am that neighbour, huh?” you joke.

Embarrassment now fully burns across San’s face. “I swear we don’t go around gloating about you,” he rushes to explain, flustered. “Yunho just— I asked him for help on how to approach you, before you walked in on— He, uh, he has some experience—”

“It’s okay, San,” you assure him, taking mercy. “I trust you and Wooyoung aren’t the shag and brag types. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t told anyone about you guys either.” Hongjoong probably also has San mentally catalogued as ‘that neighbour’ in his head. That being said, you are curious about this Yunho and his ‘experience’ now.

“So, uh, Yunho is a friend? Very accomplished in picking up his neighbours for threesomes?” you ask, scritching Byeol behind her ears while she slowly falls asleep.

San laughs lightly, your question smoothing away his earlier embarrassment. “No, no, it’s not exactly like that. I met him back at my first BDSM party; Yunho took me under his wing when he found out how little experience I had. The parties ended up not really being my thing, I prefer to keep it more private, but we stayed in touch. We tag-teamed a few times — usually at his initiative, so when me and Wooyoung got… interested in you, I figured he was my best bet for some advice.”

“Oh? What was the advice?”

San rolls his eyes. “To make sure we asked you somewhere that you could run away from. Fast. In case we creeped you out. Very helpful.”

“Hey now, don’t knock him for that!” you laugh. “One should always give a person access to a solid escape route when soliciting them for sexual favours.”

“It’s not like I planned to corner you in the elevator!”

San strolls over to the couch to flop down next to you, where he runs a gentle hand over Byeol’s grey fur. A hint of a smile tugs at San’s lips when she bumps her head into his hand, and his face is relaxed. It reminds you a little of Wooyoung’s quiet photographs of him, serene and soft.

Curiosity nags at you. You’ve always been interested in San’s history with kink; you just never found the right moment to ask more about it.

“Stop me if this is too personal to ask,” you say, “but how did you end up at a play party? Most of the kinky people I know stick to buying some gear online, do a bit of research on their own.”

“Oh? Huh, good question.”

San chuckles, completely unbothered by your curiosity. It’s not surprising; ever since stepping into this arrangement, San has always been very free-spoken about anything related to sex. He does ponder the question for a moment, thinking it over.

“The kink was only part of it, really. A big part, sure, but the whole emphasis on negotiation and everything really spoke to me too,” he slowly explains. “I looked online into local communities, found some groups, and decided to just take the plunge. I guess I just wanted to be around people who knew what they were doing, you know? I… I really struggled with confidence at the time, thought it’d be nice to see experience in action.”

You blink in surprise at that last part. “Wait, you struggled with confidence?”

Considering how shy San used to be around you, perhaps you shouldn’t be too shocked; but inside the bedroom, you have never known him as anything but a beacon of self-assurance. He takes care of you and Wooyoung with a rough or gentle hand, always certain in his assessment of which the situation calls for. No, you don’t exactly associate San with a lack of confidence.

San is not bothered by you asking this question either, or at least you’re pretty sure, but his brow does furrow lightly, and his fingers gently curl in Byeol’s fur.

“Yeah, I did,” he says with a wry smile. He hesitates, but then continues on. “My old boyfriend, he… Communication wasn’t our strongest point, I guess. It was always on me to take initiative, to figure out what he liked and I just— At some point I couldn’t tell anymore if he was even enjoying himself, or just… going along with it.”

You lightly lean against San, putting a hand on his knee. Not wanting to interrupt, but still wanting to let him know you’re here. Casual acts of affection don’t come the easiest to you, but San looks like he needs one right now. For him, you will try.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles at you in silent thanks. “It’s not that I mind taking the lead or anything,” San says awkwardly, like there is a need to explain himself, “or explore new things together if someone is still figuring out their preferences, but I need something, right? I need to know if it feels good — or if it doesn’t.

“Especially since, well, since I’m into some rougher things,” he says, abashed. “I already had a hard time not feeling guilty about those interests and he… didn’t exactly help. I kept worrying I’d push something bad onto him, that the things I wanted to try were wrong.”

A sympathetic pang of pain rings through your ribcage, and you gently squeeze San’s knee. “There is nothing wrong about the things you want. I’m sorry he made you feel that way. You didn’t deserve that.”

San’s smile deepens at your assurance, but he shakes his head. “Honestly, in hindsight I think he had his own issues to sort out. I hope he has now. We just… weren’t good for each other.”

“San,” you say firmly, exasperation and fondness battling it out in your voice, “sometimes you seriously are way too much of a nice guy.”

He shrugs, grinning at you. “That’s fine by me.”

“Of course you’d say that! It’s okay to be a little resentful at someone who made you fumble around in the dark like that.”

Something complicated shines behind San’s eyes. Like he can’t quite share your feelings, but he still appreciates that you feel them on his behalf. “It’s okay, I’m doing a lot better now,” he assures you, his face brightening again. “Besides, better to look at where it brought me, right?”

“Oh sure, if you insist on being all emotionally mature about it,” you say, exaggeratedly rolling your eyes as you nudge an elbow in his side. “But yeah, I can see how that’d draw you to BDSM, with kink checklists and all that stuff. Must’ve been freeing to have people just flat-out tell you ‘yes, I would like you to tie me up and spank me until I cry, actually’.”

There’s a little pop of warmth in your chest when San laughs. “Exactly! I mean, not that being into kink automatically makes anyone perfect at this stuff, but it still helped me out a lot.” He considers what you said a moment longer, and his lips curve a little sharper as he grins at you. “Soooo… is that a request? The spanking thing? I did take it easy on you last time.”

“You took it easy— San—!” you splutter, giving him another nudge with your elbow. Byeol mrrps in protest at how you shift underneath her. “Fuck, you really got better at that whole confidence thing, huh?”

But you look at him, at his gleaming dark eyes, and as you think back on some of your past interactions with San, their context changes ever so slightly.

Like the way San always softens when he’s praised after an intense scene; or how he had thanked you for being so open with him during your first kink negotiation and after you’d used ‘yellow’ on him. You had simply taken his mindfulness towards your safety and consent as the green flags that anyone should like to see in their sexual partner — but now you can see it goes a little deeper than that.

It was always a given to you, that San would make you feel good and cared for. But San has not always seen it the same way.

San’s attention has shifted back to Byeol, and he scratches the purring cat under the chin while she slowly blinks up to him; looking like the very picture of contentment in San’s trusted care.

“Thank you, for telling me all this,” you say, squeezing San’s knee again.

He grins. “Thanks for being cool about it.”

“Of course I’m cool about it,” you tell him, a little confused that it even needs to be said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Eh,” he says, trying to shrug it off. “It’s not that I thought you wouldn’t be. It’s just, for some people it kinda ruins the fantasy, to hear that their dom has a history of insecurity issues.”

“You’re not a fantasy, you’re San,” you blurt out, stubborn and earnest. “And you are my friend, first.”

San blinks in surprise at your words. (You’re a little surprised yourself.)

“Well,” he says in the abashed silence that follows, while slowly breaking into a soft smile, “thank you. I’m glad to hear that, really.”

You grin back at San, trying not to be overwhelmed by the simple, honest gratitude that glitters in his eyes. “Good. A-anyway,” you continue awkwardly, “you and Wooyoung sure do make a lot of sense, considering. He is not shy about what he likes. Is that how you guys met too?”

San’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh at your ungracious pivot. “Not really, but kinda yeah?” he says, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about the question. “I did meet Wooyoung through Yunho, but they’re mostly gamer buddies. Yunho pretty much set us up; must’ve also realised we’d be… compatible. He’s observant like that,” San chuckles.

“And it’s true, that is what drew me to Wooyoung at first. I liked how outspoken he is about what he wants — and he liked that I like that about him. And then… well, we found a whole lot more to like about each other,” San grins at you, just a little cheeky.

Before you can respond, you hear the front door to the apartment open as the man in question lets himself inside.

“Hey, we were just talking about you!” San calls to Wooyoung when the latter steps into the living room.

“Oh? About how great I am?” Wooyoung says, walking up to the couch to give you a half-hug from behind and kiss San on the cheek. He has come straight from work, still carrying a pleasant waft of the florist shop’s scent around him.

You’re still a little surprised every time you see Wooyoung; he has abandoned his red hair-dye to go back to black. Not as boisterously loud but still strikingly attractive, especially with the way it’s growing out, long strands framing his pretty face. He is wearing simple but elegant black trousers, plus a cream-coloured button up with a relaxed fit, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a low v neckline that falls just short of scandalous. It makes for a stark contrast next to San in his casual summer fit, but the two still look good together, like they always do.

“Nah, I was just saying that you’re probably going to burn all the food,” San teases his boyfriend, feline mischief twinkling in his eyes.

Wooyoung scoffs, smacking San on the shoulder as he pulls back. “All the food? It’s samgyetang,” he says in an indignant pout. “How badly do I have to mess up to burn the soup?”

“…I’ve burned soup,” you pipe up.

Wooyoung’s exaggerated offence melts away as he looks at you, a distinct sigh of ‘oh honey’ painted across his face.

“I got distracted, alright! Not my fault that I took my eyes off the stove for two minutes and suddenly it was an hour later!”

He pats your cheek with a pitying shake of his head, then turns to San with a flat expression. “Let me know if you ever need a place to stay because a certain neighbour burned the building down.”

“Hey—”

“Thanks Woo, I’ll take you up on that,” San grins, then whispers to you, “Don’t worry, I’ll save you from the fire first.”

“Thanks… but also, rude? Stop assuming I’ll set anything on fire!” you sulk at him. “Is this what I get for confiding in you guys? Mockery and distrust? You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Wooyoung gives you an unimpressed look; you really should’ve known better than to appeal to his sense of shame. Predictably, he banishes you from the kitchenette when he starts to prep the small hens — but there is a small consolation; San gets banished right with you.

This way, you and San end up playing some Mario Cart while the room slowly fills with the mouth-watering aroma of Wooyoung’s cooking. It’s comfortable and homey, with plenty of back-and-forth chatter between living area and kitchen.

Eventually, Wooyoung drifts over to your side while the chickens cook, where he is an energetic and unhelpful backseat gamer to both you and San. He also pointedly shows you the timer running on his phone, like he’s sharing a vital but obscure life hack to prevent burned food.

(Wooyoung also has a brief but animated talk with San’s dad over the phone, and you smile when you catch a few threads of conversation; “Yes, he’s sleeping well, yes. No, we haven’t had dinner yet, I’m working on it! I’ll make sure he eats well too.”)

The meal is delicious, just as San advertised, and perfect for fighting today’s heat. The chicken falls apart with ease, the broth rich and flavourful with ginseng and jujubes. “So? What do you think? Be honest,” Wooyoung badgers you, an intent expression on his face; one that morphs into a happy giggle when you moan around a mouthful of food, nodding at him with knitted brows.

You swallow the food down, and give Wooyoung the most puppy-eyed look you can muster. “This, uh, this isn’t a one-time thing either, right?”

“See, I told you right? Bedroom stuff isn’t the only benefit,” he grins, while San smiles contently at your appreciation of his boyfriend’s skills. One of San’s hands casually massages the back of Wooyoung’s neck, the way he is always casual in his displays of affection.

Every now and then, you do feel like a bit of a third wheel in San and Wooyoung’s presence, like when their shared braincell ricochets off each other in patterns too intricate for you to keep up with, or whenever they get a little too lost in each others’ eyes. However, Wooyoung makes up for it by promoting you to his sous-chef for making watermelon punch, while San is relegated to dish duty.

You sink back into the couch after dessert, drowsy from a sated stomach. Wooyoung offered just one drink with the guys before you take the long journey home but, much like you once burned your soup, your heavy eyes flutter shut for just one second — and suddenly there is a blanket draped across you while you’re curled up against the armrest, and your eyes are bleary and unfocused.

You blink, slightly disoriented while you need a moment to remember where you are. It’s starting to get dusky outside, and some drama plays quietly on the TV. San is sitting right next to you, with Byeol sleeping in his lap and Wooyoung dozed off on his other side, leaned into his boyfriend’s solid frame.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to crash on your couch,” you say, voice a little hoarse, but San shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, eyes crinkled as he winks at you, “I’ll forgive you for breaking the no sleepover rule.”

You make a vague groggy noise, and twist your body to try and get comfortable again. San opens his arm, almost like a question, offering himself as a cushion. You don’t think about it too much, your brain still a little fuzzy from the nap, and curl into him, head resting against his shoulder.

This way, you don’t see how San brightens with the delight of someone who persuaded a skittish street cat to sniff their hand — but you do feel a sudden light pressure on the top of your head.

For a second you stiffen in tension, thinking San kissed you; but you turn slightly to see he just pressed his cheek against your head. A small but important difference in the grey lines drawn around your comfort zone. You breathe out and relax, then wiggle a little closer against him to find a comfortable angle. Safe with your friends.

“What’s the show,” you murmur sluggishly, trying to understand why the lady on the screen looks so tearful.

“Ah, see, she has this daughter,” San whispers back, and he starts an intent explanation of her tragedy that you only half-follow before you drift off again.

San stops talking when he realises you’re a goner again, shaking his head with a chuckle. He just quietly continues to watch the movie, more than happy to be a pillow for the three sleeping figures surrounding him.

As time passes, you reap more and more benefits of your close friendship with San and Wooyoung. Sharing meals, movie nights, casual outings; and something shifts so gradually that you don’t even realise at first. You go from inviting each other into plans, to naturally including one another without second thought.

It’s not that you’re always at San’s when Wooyoung is there, just like you’re pretty sure they still have plenty of sex without you, but the group chat does pop off on the regular. Everyone treats it like a given that time will be spent together; whether it be in the bedroom or not.

Also, it’s not always just the three of you hanging out. You meet some of their friends; many you recognise from Wooyoung’s photographs — although the much-discussed Yunho remains illusive for now, out of town for work. San and Wooyoung meet some of your friends as well; San even has an opportunity to wave at Hongjoong, when he walks in on you during a video call.

(Hongjoong loves mocking you for how you used to insist that this situationship was ‘not too involved’; but meeting a shy yet warm San goes a long way to assure Hongjoong that your judgement is solid this time around.)

Of course, you also continue to reap the classical perk of a ‘friends with benefits’ deal.

You were already well aware that San and Wooyoung both have a ridiculously high libido, with energy to match — and they’ve clearly taken a liking to the dynamic of having a third in the bedroom (of having you). In fact, there truly is no need to worry about intruding on them when you are usually the one who needs a break.

Sometimes you do wonder how long their interest will hold strong. It’s all new and fresh and exciting to them right now; will they revert back to a more private lifestyle once that excitement wears off? But there are no signs of that happening anytime in the near future, and you surrender yourself to the pleasure of the moment, letting yourself get dragged along by their enthusiasm.

As you do so, the nature of your sex life with San and Wooyoung starts to split into two directions; on the one hand, scenes become more planned out as elaborate fantasies are brought to the table, fantasies that sometimes require a degree of preparation. San in particular becomes more vocal about his interests — though he does always keep you and Wooyoung at the forefront of any discussion.

(Wooyoung is always at the ready to give San an encouraging nudge when he needs it, never too surprised by what San brings up. You suspect all of this is only news to you; maybe a side-effect of the openhearted conversation you had with San.)

But while the level of planning increases for some scenes, the level of spontaneity goes up for other moments.

It’s not unheard of for a casual hang-out to take a sudden, heated turn. Once, a memorable game night escalated into a round of strip poker, which further escalated when you discovered that San has terrible luck with cards. You and Wooyoung mercilessly poked fun at him for it — until San finally had enough, and turned the night around in his favour with a firm hand.

He did not allow you or Wooyoung to remove the rest of your clothes; San simply watched while you humped against Wooyoung’s clothed crotch in a frenzy, your own panties sticky and sodden, staining his trousers with your glistening arousal. Desperately you sought out friction, not stopping your rut even when Wooyoung came in his pants with a broken whine. He squirmed and whimpered as you mindlessly kept grinding on his sensitive half-hard cock, his eyes tearing up as he let you use him. But it was on Wooyoung’s thigh that you finally found the right angle, your body shuddering with sweet relief as your cunt clenched on nothing, dripping over the infuriating layers of fabric.

Only then, while you breathlessly kissed away the stray tears on Wooyoung’s cheeks, did San approach. He pulled you off Wooyoung, laying you side by side so he could take a proper look at the mess you’d made of yourselves and your clothes. Still unsatisfied, he’d plunged his fingers underneath your ruined underwear to gather your juices, and used them to slick himself up.

You’d moaned as he fucked your tits, but not as loudly as Wooyoung; San palmed him roughly through his crusted trousers, forcibly bringing him to another orgasm. San had abashedly apologised for making a mess of your bra… but only after he’d stuffed you with three fingers covered with his own cum, pulling your panties aside just enough for access.

That night, you learned a very important lesson about what happens when you tease San too much for losing a game.

(…Maybe not the lesson that San intended, since you were not exactly convinced to never tease him again; but still! A lesson was learned.)

At other times, not all planned endeavours go exactly according to plan either.

You still look back fondly on the time Wooyoung suggested everyone wore sleep masks; thinking it would lead to an evening of excitement and surprise, guessing at who was touching and being touched. But instead, you and the guys kept bursting into giggles as you blindly pawned at one another, clumsily fumbling around on the bed. San finally called it to a halt when he nearly got elbowed in his stomach — but it was not the last time you’d experiment with the masks. Just… not everyone at once.

In many ways, this thing with San and Wooyoung is the ideal situation for you. No pressure of romantic expectations, and a growing friendship that you’re coming to appreciate even more than the mind-blowing sex. (Which is saying a lot, considering.)

There is just that slight nagging in the back of your head sometimes.

The feeling that there is a timer on this arrangement, and that you are waiting for it to end. How long before something changes? Before San and Wooyoung move on to different things, or they choose to ‘focus on each other’, to move in together elsewhere, or start a family that does not include you? Before they simply… lose interest?

You tell yourself it’s silly; you stepped into this knowing fully well that you won’t be fucking around with them forever, and you need to trust that your friendship has grown into something substantial enough to survive a change of situation. That it will last, even after you fall a few steps down the list of their priorities. No matter how unlikely it is that you stay this involved in each others’ lives indefinitely, you will stay involved.

But the thought continues to nag, as thoughts are wont to do.

“We can still be friends if we stop having sex, right?”

You and Wooyoung are hanging out at your place after a long walk through the neighbourhood; Wooyoung with his new camera in hand, you mostly just trudging along for company. Now you’re resting up with a cool drink, keeping Wooyoung company once again as he gives the photos a cursory examination.

But now he blinks at you, surprised and confused by the unexpected topic. The question had slipped out of you without too much forethought, just an impulse you chased during a lull in conversation.

“…Why would we stop having sex?” he asks, a puzzled frown on his face. Like you’ve given him a riddle to solve that he can’t work out. “Do you want to stop having sex?”

“No, of course not!” you are quick to reassure him. “But you know. Things change sometimes. Situations change, priorities change. You can’t always know the future.”

“I guess,” Wooyoung says gingerly, like he never thought that far ahead before. Something draws across his face that you have a real hard time pinning down — but it clears up quickly, making way for a cheeky grin. “Yeah, obviously we’d still be friends. You’re not getting rid of us that easily.”

The grin is reassuring, but you can’t quite shake Wooyoung’s earlier expression from your mind. “Good,” you say, winking back at him. “Hey to be clear, I seriously don’t plan to stop things. I just… wanted to make sure, I guess.”

“Yeah, no, I get it! You’re making sure we don’t ditch you,” he teases, poking at your cheek. “Just don’t ditch us either, alright?”

“Of course not,” you say, rolling your eyes as you wave his hand away. “That was the whole poi— Oh!” You get distracted when your phone lights up with a text, so you don’t catch how quickly Wooyoung’s smile fades again. “San’s on his way, how about we get started on some food?”

Somewhere along the line, you’ve managed to convince Wooyoung that you’re not a walking fire hazard, which has led to the occasional team-up to make dinner. And today you are extra antsy to get started, considering what has been planned for later this evening.

By the time San walks in, you and Wooyoung have fallen into your familiar patterns in the kitchen, with easy and cheerful chatter that has chased the earlier awkwardness out of memory. San kisses the top of Wooyoung’s head, smacks you on the backside, light and casual (you aren’t even fazed anymore), and swipes a piece of pork from right underneath your nose.

“Aish, just five more minutes, you can’t even wait that long?” Wooyoung scolds him, but you secretly feed San another piece not ten seconds later.

Wooyoung gives you a massive side-eye when he catches you sneak bites to San — but in your defence, it’s really hard to be firm with San when he’s looking at you with shiny guileless eyes and stuffed cheeks. “The faster we eat, the faster we get to the fun after, right?” you say, barely even trying to justify yourself.

“Everyone’s always in a hurry these days. Rushing through their meal so quick they won’t even have time to taste it. Does no one appreciate well-cooked food anymore?” Wooyoung grouses, but you are not fooled. He is just as restless are you are, casting regular glances at you and San.

After all, there is quite the night planned for Wooyoung.

489 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 1 year ago

Text

m.list - spencer reid (cont.)

masterlist #1

doctor!spencer | 2 | 3 | 4

sub!stepbro!spencer | 2

you and spencer have matching bracelets

spencer + enemies to lovers

professor!spencer

spencer x librarian!reader

spencer + best friends to lovers

doing an escape room with spencer

spencer sees your nipple piercings

you back out of sex with spencer

you ramble to spencer

you play with spencer's hair

spencer takes you on a first date

spencer wants to stay in with you

spencer sees you in a corset

your home life with spencer

spencer x bimbo!reader | 2

superhero!spencer x reader

spencer kisses you in the field

roommate!spencer x reader

spencer's bad at bowling

personal trainer!spencer

spencer spoiling you

museum date with spencer

getting high with college!spencer

you protect spencer from a bump to the head

spencer + enemies to lovers

spencer writes you poems

fuckboy!spencer

unit chief!spencer letting you sleep in his office

stalker!reid | 2

spencer takes you on a rainy day picnic

you and spencer fake date

spencer + spanking + dacryphilia

you meet spencer's mom

dancing with spencer at your wedding

watching a foreign film with spencer

you handcuff yourself to spencer's bed

you tease spencer on a long drive

spencer makes you wear his tie

dog hybrid!spencer

spencer's a terrible cook

you and spencer have a food fight

spencer's happy to indulge your oral fixation

spencer + overstimulation

perv!roommate!spencer

sugar daddy!spencer

spencer + casual dominance

ghostface!unsub!reid

bath sex with reid

you move in with spencer

spencer likes calling you his wife

transfem!spencer

spencer + soulmate au

spencer has flowers delivered to your work

your first christmas with spencer as parents

spencer doubts his bedroom abilities

dbf!spencer | 2

spencer's touch starved / you're touch starved

derek recognizes camgirl!reader when spencer introduces her as his girlfriend

spencer keeps an eye out for your health

spencer helps you stop biting your cuticles

spencer drunk rambles about you

you accidentally scratch spencer's face

you're an old friend of spencer's

spencer can't focus around you

your first 'i love you' with spencer

spencer's a stay at home dad

spencer helps you stop scratching yourself

you're an artist and spencer's your muse

playing strip poker with spencer

spencer can't pick up what you're putting down

you get 'stuck' and roommate!spencer helps you

spencer + body worship

spencer's bad at complimenting you

spencer's tired of his coworkers' teasing

you gift spencer a boudoir shoot for his birthday

you laugh at spencer's jokes

spencer observes your unorthodox method of studying

spencer stumbles over asking you out

you and spencer find out you're having twins

you kiss spencer on the cheek

spencer catches you when you faint

spiderman!spencer

spencer x fairy!reader

spencer's too rough and you feel it in the morning

spencer tries out pet names on you

2K notes · View notes

sterekweek-2024 · 2 months ago

Text

THEME ANNOUNCEMENT!

Three things cannot long be hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.

This year we are trying something new with Sterek Week which is a week long, over arching, theme! The week long theme will be the Sun and the Moon.

What does the week long theme mean for you? More options! Each day you will have two related, but opposite themes that you can either choose from or combine into one work.

See below for each days themes with a handful of examples to show the difference!

Day 1 - October 25th: Open Secrets (Sun) / Hidden Truths (Moon) - Everyone knows they're a thing (but they're oblivious) vs they're dating but nobody knows. Also known supernatural world that no one really talks about vs hidden supernatural world.

Day 2 - October 26th: Domestic Bliss (Sun) / Love is Murder (Moon) - Domestic Bliss is about family, slice-of-life and established relationship vibes, while Love is Murder is dark, murder husbands, or crime-related.

Day 3 - October 27th: Applied Science (Sun) / Forbidden Magic (Moon) - This one is for those who would like to get creative with an AU in a sci-fi or fantasy setting.

Day 4 - October 28th: Canon Compliance (Sun) / What-if AU (Moon) - The first fills in the canon blanks, while the second takes canon in a new direction.

Day 5 - October 29th: Fluff and Firsts (Sun) / Dark Desires (Moon) - Fluff and Firsts is the wholesome theme... can be anything that brings the good vibes really. Dark Desires can be kink, dark, sexual, or evil in nature.

Day 6 - October 30th: Dealer's Choice (Sun) / Tarot Cards (Moon) - Dealer's Choice can be the wild card theme where you can choose anything or maybe write about them playing strip poker or going to Vegas. Tarot Cards - basically pick a tarot card and run with it.

Day 7 - October 31st: Autumn Adventures (Sun) / Trick or Treat (Moon) - Autumn Adventures could be maybe something outdoorsy, or getting a pumpkin spice latté; anything autumn related. Trick or Treat, of course, is the Halloween theme so anything Halloween related goes there.

We are so excited to see everything you all come up with!

#sterek #sterekweek #sterekweek2024 #derek hale #stiles stilinski #eternalsterek #sterekweek24

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satorusugurugurl · 8 months ago

Note

Can i request modern au!sukuna and reader just making out in the living room during gojos house party🫠 established relationship of course🙏

I Got You

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x FAB Reader (MODERN AU)

Word Count: 1,983

Content Working: alcohol consumption, mentions of weed, anxiety attack, making out, suggestive

A/N: This request was so flipping cute! Loving this Modern!Sukuna AU! Like always send me suggestions!! I love hearing about your chaotic horny brain worms!

“Hello, welcome, welcome!” Gojo Satoru yelled over the bass booming from inside the house. “Step inside my humble abode!” You wanted to roll your eyes at ‘humble abode’ as you and Sukuna stepped inside Gojo’s mansion. “I am your gracious host, sober as per usual! Beer pong is in the back; spin the bottle has turned into strip poker, so that's been moved into the basement.” Your blue-eyed friend peered over his dark sunglasses. “There's pizza, edibles, and drinks in the kitchen! Have fun, don't fuck in my room again. Suguru and I are chilling in the hot tub if you need us!”

With the completion of his speech, your host was off towards the back, dodging several drunk people. Gojo’s house parties were always the best. Hell, it's where you met Sukuna. They were full of chaos, laughter, and lots of memories. Usually, you'd be dragging Sukuna to the kitchen by now and snacking on edibles, nursing a rum and coke.

But you were a bit anxious.

Work has been so tense this week. Endless piles of paperwork, long days. Every day was the same: get up, go to work, come home, and make dinner before passing out in bed. You’d been so stressed it didn't help that you hadn't even spent time with Sukuna all week. So when Gojo invited you for a small get-together, you jumped at the opportunity. A party with your closest friends would ease the tension in your back.

What you walked into was not at all a small get-together. This was a full-ass Gojo Satoru party. It had probably started as a small get-together, but word probably spread, and Gojo would never say no to a good time. The more the merrier! But as the smell of weed and shouting echoed through the house, you were beginning to regret your choice.

Sukuna peered down at you from the corner of his eye. He could see the stress etched into your features. He had offered to take you to dinner, something quiet and calm after your hard week. But when you said you needed to blow off some steam, he didn't fight you. He'd been there, raising his two brothers. Work and school had him running to parties like this all the time before he met you.

If this is what you needed, he'd support you.

“Hey,” he bent over next to your ear, “you good? Want to get a drink?”

“Mmhmm!”

Taking your hand in his, Sukuna led you through the crowded halls into the kitchen. You searched for Nanami, Shoko, or anyone you knew, but you saw a sea of strangers. This was fine. It was okay; Sukuna was here. You were going to be OK.

“Want a rum and coke?” Sukuna yelled over the blaring music. His hand released yours. “Or something else?”

In the instant he was no longer holding you, you felt it. Your hands were shaking, and your index finger twitched—the telltale signs of an anxiety attack for you. Quickly folding your hands behind your back, you swallowed hard, heart pounding in your ears. You needed to get away, to find a quiet spot, but the last thing you wanted to do was make Sukuna worry about you.

“Surprise me!” You yelled back, looking around. “I'm going to go use the restroom!”

Your boyfriend had just started towards the drinks when you shouted at him that you were going to the bathroom. When he turned around, he watched you push through the growing crowd, clenching your left hand as you did. Sighing softly, Sukuna headed for the fridge to get what was needed.

You were shaking, eyes darting through the smokey halls, searching for privacy. The bathroom was locked, couples blocked the stairs, and people flooded through the front door. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you needed to get away from the noise and calm down! You rushed down the hall, finding the living room empty, except for a beer bottle on the coffee table. This must have been where Spin the Bottle was being played earlier. Thank fuck it turned into strip poker.

Plopping down on the couch, you stared down at your shaking hands. The index finger and middle finger twitched, pulsing as waves of anxiety slammed into you. To fight back tears, you shut your eyes tight just as your leg began to bounce. This was a nasty attack. Calm, stay calm. It would be okay.

Why didn't you listen to your boyfriend?! From the second you got in the car, you felt off. Something was going to happen, but you had no clue what it could be like a shadow figure was stalking you, waiting for the perfect chance to strike. Now that you were in the midst of your anxiety attack, it all made sense.

“Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.” You whispered to yourself. “Don't cry.”

Despite telling yourself that, it didn't prevent the tears streaming down your cheeks. Fuck. This was not how you wanted to spend your Friday night. Poor Sukuna wouldn't want to spend the night like this, either. He was stuck taking care of his weak-ass girlfriend, who couldn't calm herself down. He deserved more. Before your thoughts could spiral further, the couch dipped under someone's weight.

Turning your head to see who it was, you gasped as Sukuna cupped your face in his hands, kissing you deeply. Your heart skipped a beat as you kissed back. He pulled back, thumb brushing against your cheek before his lips were firmly against yours once more. The second kiss was deeper as he gently eased you back into the corner of the armrest.

Whimpering against your boyfriend's lips, you lifted, still shaking hands to his shoulders. Your fingers trailed over muscles as his own hands moved down the curves of your body. Sukuna’s grip was firm, holding you tight and reassuring you that he was here. That you weren't alone.

Sukuna’s tongue darted out, gently licking at your bottom lip, begging for you to allow him inside. You obeyed simultaneously, opening your mouth. His tongue slid into your mouth, deepening the already passionate kiss. Furrowing your brows, you pulled him on top of you as you laid back. Obliging your wants, Sukuna followed you, his body pressed against you. In all of the movements, never once did he break the connection.

You hadn't had a drink of alcohol or eaten one of the edibles, but you felt hazy. All thanks to Sukuna’s tongue buried in your mouth. He massaged your tongue gently with his as his hands mapped out the dips and curves of your body. Making mental notes of all the places he touched that made you squirm. The second he got you home later, those spots he would pay extra attention to. He'd mark them up, suck on them until you were begging for more.

That would be for later on. Right at this moment, you were his sole concern. He paid close attention to your body and how the tension melted away. Trembling that was driven by anxiety shifted into trembles of pleasure. The kiss meant to ground you slowly twisted into a kiss the two of you found yourselves lost in.

Your hands ran through his soft hair, pulling him closer to you. Your tongue moved against his, gently prodding and massaging it, tasting the faint traces of mint and rum. God, you felt high, so high off of him. Off of the Ryomen Sukuna, the man you were so lucky to call your boyfriend. He left you breathless in every way, shape, and form.

Which is why you pushed him back, a string of saliva connecting your lips as you gulped down the air. While you recovered from the breathtaking kiss, Sukuna eyed you. His chest heaving as he sat back, giving you some space. Fuck, he looked good. His hair was in disarray, his shirt wrinkled around the collar, and his eyes dark with lust. The two of you were drunk off each other, and you had the urge to get wasted, to drown yourself in him and nothing else.

You sprung towards him, sitting in his lap as your lips found his. This kiss wasn't as gentle as the first (if you could call it gentle). You nipped at his lips, causing him to groan against your mouth, his eyes rolling back into his skull. His hands ran up and down your back, encouraging you to keep going. You cupped his face, kissing him like your life was on the line.

Sumina moaned as you made out like teenagers on the couch. His hands tangled in your hair, tugging Y/H/C strands as you sucked and bit at his bottom lip. Fuck, you felt like a teenager. It felt good to lose yourself in his kisses.

“Sukuna! Hey, I couldn't find my ice pack—oh!” you pulled away from Sukuna’s lips, panting heavily. Gojo was wet, towel around his waist as he held a bag of frozen peas. “Well, huh, I guess you have it covered?” Your white-haired friend asked, tossing Sukuna the peas.

Suluna caught the bag, glaring at Gojo with flushed cheeks. “Yes, now go!”

“Okay, okay! Just remember to wrap it up!”

“Fuck you, Gojo!” Sukuna yelled after him as he rushed off. “Stupid fuckin’ bastard.” Sukuna sighed, leaning his head back against the couch, his very hard erection pressing against you. “Ruining the mood.”

You cocked an eyebrow, eyes darting from your boyfriend to the peas, trying to put the two together. While your mind tried to connect the dots, Sukuna sighed. The sound rumbled in his chest as he picked up the bag, pressing it gently against the back of your neck.

The cold jolted down your spine, making you jump, your hips rutting against him. “Fuck! That's cold!” Sukuna hummed, eyes wandering over your face.

“Good means it's working.” Words trailed off before he looked away, flushing a deeper shade of red. “You feelin’ better?”

“Huh?”

“You were having an anxiety attack, right?”

You blinked at his words; he knew he had seen it. “How did you know?”

“Well, for starters, I’m your boyfriend.” His signature cocky smirk graced his lips. “Plus, you kept clenching your hand, taking super deep breaths, and I noticed your fingers twitching.” God, how embarrassing was this? You groaned, pressing your forehead against his. “Hey, it's okay, I got you. I would have been here sooner, but I couldn't find any ice packs.” his hand gently rubbed circles into your thigh. “So, I had to use my kissing skills to get you to hold your breath.”

“You do listen.” Holding your breath to stop a panic attack was something you and his brother Choso had talked about weeks ago over dinner. He had seemed bored, rolling his eyes as you both excitedly gushed over a paper he was writing for school.

“Of course, I listen.” His hand squeezed your thigh. “I've been listening to you since we played Seven Minutes in Heaven six months ago.”

“Seven Minutes in Heaven?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I think you mean an hour in heaven.”

Sukuna pulled the bag of peas away, shutting his eyes as he smiled. “An hour that changed my life completely.” His words had you biting your lip.

“Say Kuna~” you rocked against him, pleased to find him still hard. “What do you say we play that again? I want you to kiss me until I see the pearly gates.”

You didn't have to say it twice. The pea bag was thrown across the room, and frozen green peas rolled in every direction. You squealed as you were thrown over your boyfriend's shoulder, getting carried off to a more private location. You were squirming in excitement when his hand firmly smacked your ass.

“Oh no, look at that. Gojo left his door unlocked~!”

628 notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 11 months ago

Text

jujutsu kaisen SLIDE

further and beyond

Parting from the ring was the most painful part of all of this; His beloved lover had gifted it to him during a moment of unexpected revelation. All those happy years, his darling had out of the blue blurted their love for him. The scarlet blush upon their cheeks, the bright beam of love echoing in shaking eyes. Winter snow fell all around them. Satoru was beyond surprised, his clutches were all that was keeping him still and balanced. They never even dated before. Yet, they knelt beside him with all their might in their heart and soul, defying convention to be honest about love.

kayu's current favorite ― love is the law, religion is taught

playground guide

💭stand alone winds (stories with no connections)

🪻lilac swing (various stories connected to each other)

🪷flowering starts (series stand alones and or AUs)

MISCELLANEOUS

↳ loving is caring - jjk men x reader

↳ buono san valentino; 2024

↳ kayu's playlist, side 400;

↳ kayu's playilist, side 700;

↳ kayu's playlist, side 800;

↳ kayu's playlist, side 900;

↳ kayu's playlist - side 1000;

↳ kayu's playlist — side 1500;

↳ kinktober 2024 — kayu's version.

GOJO SATORU

↳ u s and t h e m ― gojo satoru. 🪻

↳ time after time ― gojo satoru. 💭

↳ unholy ― gojo satoru. 💭

↳ pied piper — gojo satoru. 💭

↳ tears are getting sober ― gojo satoru.🪻

↳ ten minutes— gojo satoru. 💭

↳ no more sad song for my broken heart ― gojo satoru. 💭

↳ don’t take that name away (the one only you know) — gojo satoru.🪷

↳ strip poker — gojo satoru. 💭

↳ triassic love song — gojo satoru. 💭

↳ city of loving angels — gojo satoru. 💭

↳ house of cards — gojo satoru. 💭

RYOMEN SUKUNA

↳ devil by the window ― ryomen sukuna. 🪷

↳ animals ― ryomen sukuna. 🪷

↳ ashes of love ― ryomen sukuna. 🪻

↳ i wanna be your slave — ryomen sukuna. 💭

↳ drunk tonight — ryomen sukuna. 🪷

↳ pretending as always — ryomen sukuna. 💭

↳ the other woman — ryomen sukuna.🪻

↳ map of the soul — ryomen sukuna. 🪻

↳ gum — ryomen sukuna. 💭

↳ hey lover! — ryomen sukuna. 🪻

GETO SUGURU

↳ to build a home ━ geto suguru ft nanami kento. 🪷

↳ love wins all ━ geto suguru. 🪷

↳ logic≠love ― geto suguru. 🪷

↳ ghost of you ― geto suguru. 🪻

↳ nightingale — geto suguru. 💭

↳ quiet eyes — geto suguru. 💭

↳ of vodka, beers and regrets — geto suguru. 💭

↳ ashes — geto suguru.💭

↳ love of my life — geto suguru 💭

↳ casual — geto suguru. 💭

↳ chasing heaven — geto suguru. 💭

NANAMI KENTO

↳ what a wonderful world ― nanami kento. 🪻

↳ seesaw game ― nanami kento. 🪷

↳ lay your love on me — nanami kento. 💭

↳ bed chem — nanami kento. 💭

ITADORI YUJI

↳ mr. kupido ― itadori yuji. 🪻

↳ love countdown ― itadori yuji. 💭

↳ ligaya — itadori yuuji.💭

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

↳ dm ― fushiguro megumi. 🪻

↳ love me back ― fushiguro megumi. 💭

↳ from the start — fushiguro megumi. 💭

↳ love me anyway — fushiguro megumi.💭

↳ ikaw lang — fushiguro megumi. 💭

↳ blanket kick — fushiguro megumi. 💭

↳ boy, i, boy, i, boy, i know i know you got the feels — fushiguro megumi.

💭

↳ apt — fushiguro megumi. 💭

IEIRI SHOKO

↳ let you break my heart again ― ieiri shoko. 🪻

↳ magnetic ― ieiri shoko. 🪻

↳ good luck, babe ! ― ieiri shoko. 🪻

CHOSO KAMO

↳ i wish ― choso kamo. 💭

↳ puddin' pop — choso kamo. 💭

FUSHIGURO TOJI

↳ pasilyo — fushiguro toji. 💭

↳ treasure in the sea — fushiguro toji. 💭

↳ 1-800-hot-n-fun — fushiguro toji. 💭

#kayu writes ! ! !

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the-californicationist · 1 year ago

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✨Masterlist✨

This is the masterlist for The Californicationist's Tumblr & AO3 texts.

All works should be considered 18+ only. MDNI - no exceptions.

CALL OF DUTY

Novel-Length Works

Gunslinger Price/Reader - AO3 - 100k - Complete You open your home as a safehouse for the 141, and your relationship with John Price unfolds into an epic love story.

Guardian Konig/FemaleOC - AO3 - 45k - Complete Konig, inexplicably working with SpecGru, clears out a Konni base and finds a hostage with amnesia, only to fall hopelessly in love with her.

Guile & Guilt Soap/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - Complete Your best friend has warned you to stay far, far away from her younger brother — infamous party boy, Sergeant Johnny MacTavish. However, when she asks you to be her maid of honor in her wedding, you and Johnny end up closer than you ever expected.

The Sin-Eater Price/Reader - Co-Author: @vampirekilmer - AO3 - WIP Captain John Price is a loving husband, a dedicated soldier, and a good man. But, that’s not all he is. Underneath his controlled exterior lurks something dark, something hungry, and something wholly inhuman. You’re his only solace during his wrath, and only you can consume the sin from his shifts.

One-Shot Works

Gauntlet (Kinktober 2023) [External Post] Price/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 58k - Complete TW: too many to list here 😈 A collection of 30 kink-focused one-shots

Budapest Price/Reader - AO3 - 1.2k - Complete TW: major character death, explicit sex Captain John Price comes home to you a changed man.

Going Home Gaz/Nova - AO3 - 4.3k - Complete TW: explicit sex, voyeurism Gaz and Nova spend their leave together at his childhood home. This is set in the Gunslinger universe.

Gravitational Shift Price/FemaleOC - AO3 - 2k - Complete TW: Space AU, includes the Force from the Star Wars fandom, force-bond sex Captain Price senses a disturbance in the force, and when he bonds with her, he decides he's never letting go.

Ground & Pound Konig/FemaleOC - AO3 - 5.8k - Complete TW: NC/CNC, bondage, violence Konig's ex-girlfriend shows up to the base, and Konig loses his absolute mind over her...and takes things too far.

Growl Price/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 2.5k - Complete TW: pegging, femdom When you agreed to come over to John Price’s house for drinks, you had no idea it would escalate so damn swiftly.

The Orchard Price/Reader - AO3/Tumbr - 3.8k - Complete TW: CNC, primal play, bondage John Price chases you through the woods to make sure you learn your lesson.

The Fisherman's Knot Price/FemaleOC - AO3 - 2.9k - Complete ABO AU - Captain John Price rescues a pretty Alpha from a kayaking accident in his fishing cove, his body betrays his gentle nature.

The Honest Man Mace/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 2.5k - Complete TW: Breeding kink Mace tries to convince you to build a life with him again, especially if it means adding another baby into the mix.

The Missed Deadline Gaz/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 2.7k - Complete TW: Virginity loss You and Kyle had a virginity pact.

The Fourth of July Alex Keller/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 3.5k - Complete TW: Blow job You and Alex get a little carried away in the pool house.

The Fox & the Hound Soap/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 4.5k - WIP(?) TW: Literal porn, exhibition Your first porno shoot doesn't go exactly to plan. Your co-star, Johnny "Dangerous" MacTavish, sets his sights on you and makes you his personal project. (Labeled WIP because I'm considering a Chapter 02 moment).

The Green Light Price/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 1.8k - Complete TW: Dubcon/CNC John Price comes home with only one thing on his mind: you and those bright green panties. Even though you're sound asleep, he just can't stop himself.

The Dealer’s Choice 141/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 4.4k - Complete TW: Gangbang The 141 are stranded and you’re the safe house manager. You have fun playing strip poker.

The Simple Mistake Ghost/Soap - AO3 - 1.4k - Complete Soap and Ghost have to hide together, injured and desperate in a shelter until their rescue party arrives.

The Devil's Summer Konig/Named Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 3k - Complete TW: Rape, non-consent, assault, corpses, violence, named reader A tall, foreign stranger comes to town with his masked crew of bandits. They rob the train station and the bank, but the big one… he has his sights set on a different sort of prize: you.

The Advent Calendar Ghost/Soap - AO3/Tumblr - 1.9k - Complete Soap gave Ghost an advent calendar this year. It's a little more romantic than he realized.

The False Alarm 141/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 1.9k - Complete TW: Gangbang Cleaning the pole in the firehouse was hard work, but someone had to do it. But, when your harness broke and you were left dangling there, free to use for a firehouse full of men… you were in charge of cleaning a lot more poles than you bargained for.

There’s more, but I ran out of room! I’m trying to figure out how to fix it. Sorry 😣

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euphemiaamillais · 10 months ago

Text

poker face - snowjanus x reader

a game of strip poker with your roommates turns into something a little more…

modern!snowjanus x reader roommate au

cw: 18+//threesome//oral (f. and m. receiving)//fingering//piv sex//anal//stripping//drinking

‘you guys are so unfair,’ you whined as you removed a sock, having lost to their higher hands. they’d changed the rules so it was only the loser that had to strip, and unbeknownst to you, both the boys were more than amateurs at the game.

‘it’s only the rules,’ coriolanus teased, taking a swig of his beer.

you watched the two boys exchange glances as sejanus dealt another hand to each of you, communicating in their own psychic way. it vexed you, the two of them did that a lot, especially when you brought a guy home.

‘well, it’s not like they’re the real rules,’ you shook your head, picking up the cards and sighing as you found yourself with a two pair, again.

a smile flickered upon coriolanus’ lips as he saw his full house, and he once again looked at sejanus, who didn’t seem too put off by his straight. still, it could’ve been better, but by the dour look etched upon your features, they could tell you were disappointed by your hand.

they moved their chips forward, coriolanus bargaining the most, and you sighed, knowing that it was likely you’d be the one clutching at a blanket by the end of the evening, attempting to shield your body. you don’t even know why you’d agreed to this, but you couldn’t deny that you were dying to see the boys undressed. you’d accidentally seen one too many-a-things to pique your curiosity, especially when either of them wore grey sweatpants.

‘fuck,’ you sighed as coriolanus put his cards down on the table, revealing he had a full house.

sejanus raised his brows nervously, but sighed with relief as you showed your defeated hand. his straight would mean he didn’t have to remove his clothing, which was scarce, as both boys were lounging around in sweatpants and shirts. there wasn’t much to take off.

‘this isn’t fun if i’m the only one who’s going to be stripping,’ you frowned, but coriolanus just laughed.

‘shouldn’t have agreed to play with us,’ disappointment filled his eyes when he saw you remove another sock. ‘oh, and rule change… next time you lose, you need to take off a real item of clothing. no more socks or watches.’

you shook your head, and reached for the glass of red wine perched on the coffee table. if you had to continue, you decided that you could at least get a little help from the liquor, just as the boys did.

sejanus dealt a hand this time, and your lips curled up with a grin when you realised you’d gotten a royal flush. you wanted to bet big this time, and pushed all your chips in. both boys could see you struggled to keep a poker face, but sejanus let out a defeated sigh when he realised he only had a pair.

‘well boys, which one of you is stripping?’ you giggled, showing your royal flush.

coriolanus showed his full house, a little disappointed that you’d won this time. beginner’s luck, he supposed. sejanus tossed his cards down, a little disgruntled that he’d lost. because you’d made such a hefty bet, you’d raked up all their chips, grinning.

‘come on sej, what are you going to take off, pants or shirt?’ you teased, watching as a blush crept across his cheeks.

he pulled off his shirt, revealing a muscular and taught torso, causing you to giggle again, face burning. coriolanus didn’t mind either, and you caught his eyes going wide as your roommate removed his shirt.

‘see, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?’ you cajoled, basking in the giddiness of your win.

you dealt the hand this time, body humming in anticipation. you wanted to luck out again this time, but frowned when you scooped up your cards and were left with merely a straight.

this time, it was coriolanus who lost, and you watched as he too removed his shirt. you noticed a dog tag dangling from around his neck, obviously from when he’d joined the army on an impulse, or so he’d said, and felt your mouth water a little at the sight of his well-toned chest.

‘oh boys,’ you sighed, clucking your tongue. the alcohol had made your lips a little loose, and they seemed acutely aware that you were now the most clothed one there.

another hand was dealt. you had finally been defeated, and sighed as you decided what would be best to remove. you couldn’t deny the burning between your thighs as the two of them sat on the couch, shirtless, while you were sat cross-legged on the floor.

you could be extra teasing and remove your bra from underneath your dress, but then if you lost again, you’d run the risk of being only in your panties. however, it wouldn’t be as fun if you pulled off your dress, wanting to make them wait. you saw the way they were eyeing you, slouched over, eyes fixated on your every movement.

you lifted up the back of your dress, and unclasped your bra. you were a little relieved you’d chosen to wear the pretty one, baby blue and lacy, and as you slipped it off your arms, you heard their breaths catching in their throats.

‘you’re such a fuckin’ tease,’ coriolanus sighed, running a hand through his golden curls.

‘hey, just think about what she’ll have to take off next, coryo,’ sejanus laughed, but coriolanus still frowned with displeasure.

‘you never said which order i had to remove the clothes,’ you murmured, tossing the bra at the couch.

coriolanus caught it in his hands, a surprised look creeping across his cheeks as he realised what he was clutching. he could smell the faint scent of your perfume, miss dior, was it?—and felt his cock twitch a little in his sweatpants. god, it would be hard to keep hiding the fact that he wanted your lips around his cock.

‘mhm, well next time, i’m going to make you remove that dress,’ he replied, causing sejanus to let out a guffaw.

it was no secret between the boys that they both wanted you, enthralled by your pretty smile and the way you were always so touchy with them. they’d been planning this for a while now, hoping that you just couldn’t refuse the game—and you’d been more than willing when it had been suggested. secretly, you fantasised about taking both of them, watching as one stretched your pretty little hole out while the other fucked your throat.

‘oh really?’ your brows quirked up. ‘you’re going to make me?’

coriolanus nodded, eyes dancing with want. you pursed your lips together with curiosity, forgetting that you were supposed to actually be playing poker.

‘coryo,’ sejanus laughed, watching as the two of you shamelessly flirted. he felt a little pang of jealousy with the attention not being entirely on him, but he was sure he wouldn’t be left out with the way you’d been eyeing his big arms before.

‘what do you think, sej?’ coriolanus inquired, turning to look at his friend. ‘think i can make her take her dress off?’

sejanus pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes narrowing in on you. your face was flushed now, and though you tried to hide it, you were trembling a little nervously. he nodded his head.

‘yeah,’ he mumbled, breath catching slightly at the thought of your naked form.

you stood up from the ground, and made your way over to the boys who were draped across the couch. you stood between them now, watching as their eyes flickered to the bottom of your dress, which barely covered the top of your thighs.

‘well, are you going to make me?’ you mused, fingers clutching at the hem of your dress.

coriolanus’ hands grasped at your thighs, and you couldn’t hold back the gasp at the feeling of the cold touch on your skin. they travelled to grip at the hem, brushing your own clutching hands away, and he hiked the dress up past your panties.

‘oh my,’ he sighed as he revealed a pair that matched the bra you’d tossed at him some time earlier.

sejanus let out a groan, and unable to keep his hands to himself, he grabbed your arm. unlike coriolanus, his touch was warm; pleasant. the alternating sensations sent your head into a spin, and you let your eyes flutter shut.

coriolanus pulled you down against his thigh, and your eyes opened again, watching as he slipped the dress over your head. you shivered at the feeling of the cool air brushing against your bare skin. both boys groaned at the sight of your breasts, perfectly pert, nipples cold and hard. sejanus couldn’t help himself, and ran a hand over the sensitive skin.

‘oh,’ you sighed as he stroked your nipple.

your core burned, and you found yourself clenching around coriolanus’ thigh, searching for a way to relieve the tension. he could only watch in awe, eyeing your perfect body. he felt the wetness from your panties as you began to grind against his thigh.

‘fuck,’ you groaned, body humming with pleasure as sejanus continued to run at your hard nipples. he had both of his hands cupped around your breasts, watching as you continued to search for release against coriolanus’ thigh.

he couldn’t have that though, the way you were gasping, and the friction of your cunt upon his leg made the blood rush to his cock.

‘she’s so pretty coryo,’ sejanus sighed. ‘i wanna fuck her.’

you were a little taken aback by the words coming out of his mouth. sejanus was usually sweet, you would expect coriolanus to speak with that sort of frankness. it only made your thighs burn more, knowing that they both wanted you.

‘yeah? how does that sound, princess?’ coriolanus asked, shifting a little uncomfortably as he tried to accomodate for the straining bulge in his sweatpants.

‘i want you both,’ you mewled, looking all pathetic already. you’d had such control before, teasing them, and now you were a mess, rubbing your wet pussy against coriolanus’ leg.

‘both?’ coriolanus gasped. ‘greedy, are we?’

you nodded dumbly, rutting helplessly against him. you could feel yourself coming undone, but before you could edge your way to your orgasm, coriolanus pulled you off his lap and put you down between himself and sejanus.

both boys are straining in their pants, and you can see how hungrily they’re eyeing you. the wine removed any shyness you’d had about your body, but you’re still very conscious of the fact that you’re in nothing but your panties.

‘don’t tease her so much, coryo,’ sejanus’ tone was laced with a tone of plea—he wanted to get on with things, he just couldn’t help himself, he was throbbing inside his boxers, tip dribbling a little with precum.

you smiled innocently at sejanus, but your eyes were dancing with desire, and the heat between your legs had not ebbed. you could see how hard he was, and wanting to help him, you ghosted a hand over the bulge.

he let out a groan, and coriolanus watched greedily, jealous that the attention was removed from him. you couldn’t help yourself, and slipped your hand past the waistband of his pants and boxers, beginning to palm his cock. he was thick, and throbbing against your hand.

‘didn’t know you were so desperate to fuck me, sej,’ you teased, pulling his cock out before your eyes.

your mouth watered, but you were aware of coriolanus’ heavy-breathing, laced with jealousy. you settled onto your knees on the couch, ass perched close to coriolanus’ face, and bent down to give sejanus’ cock a kiss.

‘fuck,’ he sighed, and you looked up at him through your thick lashes, seeking his permission. ‘go ahead.’

you moved the flat of your tongue around the tip of his cock, licking up the drops of precum, circling until you were satisfied that it was all gone. coriolanus groaned at the sight of you watching you glide your tongue across sejanus’ cock, and couldn’t ignore the fact that your ass was practically presenting itself to him.

you moved your tongue up the underside of sejanus’ cock, watching as he groaned, hand fisting in your hair. you felt coriolanus’ hands on your ass, but were too distracted by sejanus that you didn’t notice him sliding your panties down your legs.

you wrapped your lips around sejanus’ tip, and began to take him further in your mouth, watching as his hips bucked at the wet warmth of your saliva coating his cock. you let out a gasp as you felt coriolanus’ fingers glide across your wet folds, and pulled away from sejanus for a brief moment to see him fingering you from behind.

‘so fucking wet, look at her, sej,’ coriolanus cooed, thumb pressing against your clit.

you gasped, but moved so you were taking sejanus down your throat again, head bobbing as your tongue slipped up and down his thick shaft.

‘i wanna make you cum,’ coriolanus mused, watching as you squirmed from his touch.

sejanus’ hips twitched a little as you took him fully in your mouth, balls slapping slightly against your chin. he couldn’t help but buck against your lips, watching as you gagged. your eyes pricked a little with tears, but you pushed them away, determined to take him as deep as you could until he was coming down your throat.

coriolanus bent his head down and buried himself between your thighs, tongue lapping gently at the slickness pooling at your hole. your pussy looked beautiful from behind, and it tasted even better, just as sweet as he’d imagined. you moaned against sejanus’ cock, the hum sending him over the edge.

‘jesus,’ sejanus huffed out as he came down your throat.

thick, hot ropes slid onto your tongue as he slipped himself out, and you swallowed him up, even taking care to suck a little at the tip to make sure all his cum was making its way down to your belly. he whined from the feeling of your lips around his overstimulated tip.

sejanus had to pry you off of him for fear he’d be coming again, and you turned your attention back to coriolanus, who was currently fucking your hole with his tongue. you whined at the sensation, eyes trained on sejanus, who’s lips were curved into a grin at the sight of your fucked-out face.

‘coryo,’ you whimpered, moving away from him.

as much as you were enjoying the sensation of his mouth on your cunt, the position was uncomfortable. you turned around to face him, and forced him down against the couch, hovering over him teasingly.

‘i’m going to sit on your face, and you can finish what you’re doing,’ you commanded, watching as coriolanus gripped your thighs, dragging you down so you could perch your cunt upon his face.

‘i can’t believe he’s letting you boss him around,’ sejanus laughed, surprised that his friend had surrendered his usual dominance to you of all people.

‘mhm, well he’ll get to tell me what to do once he can make me cum,’ you remarked, groaning as his tongue worked effortlessly at your clit.

sejanus came to sit on the other side of you, not wanting to miss out on all the fun. you leaned in to him, your noses brushing as you let out another gasp as coriolanus’ tongue pressed against your sensitive nub, lips suckling in an attempt to bring you to your pleasure.

sejanus’ lips were soft against yours, and you moaned into the kiss, too far gone with the pressure of coriolanus’ skilled tongue against your dripping folds. he wrapped his hands around your neck, fingers catching in your hair, pulling you closer. you opened your mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

you were so desperate, at the same time grinding against coriolanus’ mouth, feeling yourself unfurl beneath him. heat burned at your core, the tight knot in your stomach forming. coriolanus’ cock was hard again as he felt your juices coat his lips, wanting nothing more than to bury himself deep inside of you.

moaning into sejanus’ mouth, you clenched your thighs and felt yourself come undone, skin dancing with the fire of your want. you wondered if coriolanus was suffocating between your thighs, but he continued to lick at you as if you were his last meal, lapping up all the delicious slick that you dripped onto his tongue.

‘so good,’ you gasped into sejanus’ mouth, his fingers tickling the nape of your neck.

you pulled yourself off of coriolanus, who’s lips were wet with your juices, and you felt your core tingle again. he looked so hot, drunk on your pussy, blue eyes wide with a hunger to have you all to himself.

sejanus and you parted for a moment, watching as coriolanus grabbed at your naked form, his hard cock pressing into your back. you let out a sigh, rubbing your ass against his cock, and he cast a pleading look.

‘wanna fuck you now,’ he begged, a little pathetic.

sejanus coughed, reminding coriolanus that he had to share you, after all, you had more than one hole. it would be cruel to deny them their pleasure.

‘i’m sure you boys can decide who gets what,’ you drawled, letting coriolanus pull you into his lap.

both boys were silent for a moment, debating with one another through their eyes; coriolanus’ boner pressing into you, a reminder of just how much he needed you. he wanted you to be his, but sharing you with sejanus was only fair, especially when you’d been so insistent.

‘coryo?’ sejanus quirked a brow.

coriolanus pursed his lips, growing increasingly aware of the way your ass ground against his cock. he didn’t know how much longer he could take it, or if he’d finish without even being inside of you.

'should i fuck you in the ass, hm?' coriolanus murmured in your ear. your cheeks burned, but you nodded hazily, too distracted by the thought of both of them inside of you.

'sej? does that suit you?' you asked, lips pursing as you felt your core begin to soak with heat again.

he didn't know what to say, words caught in his throat like dirt. of course it suited him. he had dreamed of a time like this, burying himself deep inside of your cunt, watching you moan his name...

'yeah, 'course,' he managed to utter, and you cast a soft smile.

sejanus laid back against the couch, and you left a pouting coriolanus to clamber onto sejanus' lap, straddling him. coriolanus watched as you wrapped your hand around sejanus' cock and stroked him a few times, thumbing the precum on his tip. when you decided he was wet enough, you lowered yourself around him, gasping as his thick cock stretched out your walls.

coriolanus gripped at your waist from behind, stroking the small of your back with his ringed hands. he'd pulled down his sweatpants, and his cock, long and throbbing, was pressing right against your ass. you moved up and down on sejanus, hands stroking the smooth expanse of his toned chest, watching as he moaned as you clenched around him.

'so good,' sejanus sighed as the sound of his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy echoed across the room.

struck with jealousy, coriolanus barely gave you warning as he pressed himself inside your other hole. you gasped, brows knitting together at the slight discomfort of his long length shoving inside of you.

‘is she tight, sej?’ coriolanus asked, groaning as he began to buck into your hole.

your head swam with overstimulation, core burning as they both filled you with their cocks. you couldn’t help but gasp as you rode sejanus, feeling coriolanus’ cock pressing against a particularly tight spot in your hole. you were in a daze.

‘so tight,’ sejanus mused, gripping at your hips, attempting to bury himself fully inside of you.

‘it’s too much,’ you murmured, already completely fucked-out on their cocks.

coriolanus’ cock throbbed as he felt your hole squeezing around his cock, clenching as sejanus stretched your pussy. he didn’t know how much more he could take, his balls aching to shoot their load into you. he thought of you being filled with both of their cum, watching the pearly stuff dripping out of your cunt and ass. that sent his head into a spin.

‘fucking hell!’ coriolanus grunted, sound of his balls slapping against your mingling with that of your wet cunt against sejanus’ cock.

‘she’s so good, isn’t she?’ sejanus mewled, his thighs trembling a little beneath you.

‘taking us so well,’ coriolanus said, breath hot against your ear. the feeling of the hot air sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel yourself being pushed over the edge.

‘gonna…’ you huffed, a little exhausted. ‘cum.’

the boys laughed, watching as you fucked yourself dumbly on their cocks, groaning and sighing with delight as you came undone, cunt gushing with wetness. sejanus moaned at the feeling of your slickness coating his cock, a milky ring forming round the base as your pussy slipped on and off his shaft.

‘such a slut, fucking yourself stupid on our cocks, huh?’ coriolanus cajoled, fastening his pace.

he tugged on your hair when you didn’t respond, and you let out a cry, feeling the stinging feeling of your hair strands standing on the ends of your scalp.

‘you gonna answer me? or have we fucked you so good that you can’t answer,’ coriolanus shook his head. ‘such a little whore.’

you moaned as you felt sejanus tremble beneath you, spilling his load inside your cunt. he whimpered a little as he came, cheeks burning and red with abashed innocence. you’d just felt so good, the way your wet walls clenched around him, taking him so well.

‘god,’ sejanus mumbled, continuing to thrust lazily into your pussy as his cum trickled out.

‘oh sej,’ you giggled, pressing a kiss to one of his reddened cheeks. he looked so sweet, big brown eyes welling with a bashful expression.

‘couldn’t help myself, you’re just so good,’ he mused, grunting as you changed position, sliding off his cock so your ass was pressed pertly against coriolanus’ cock.

‘want you to cum in my pussy too, coryo,’ you murmured, turning back to glance at him.

he frowned, but he couldn’t say no to the offer. he pulled his cock from your ass, throbbing and red; and a small groan played upon his lips as the pleasure ceased for a second. you both moaned as he slid into your wet, cum-soaked cunt, and he gripped at your hips.

feeling extra teasing, you reached down to grab at sejanus’ now flaccid cock, watching as his hips writhed at the excess stimulation. his eyes were stretched into a look of wide-eyed plea, but the sounds that were stumbling from his lips suggested he was yearning for it.

‘please, too much,’ he uttered, but his cock came to attention again, hardening as you ran your hands up and down.

coriolanus was close, clutching at your hips so hard you could feel the bruises forming. he loved the way your skin turned red between his fingers as he pounded you, another way he was making you his. your wetness, mixed with the feeling of sejanus’ cum, made his own release threaten to occur.

‘gonna fill you up, hm? such a slut, being filled with both our cum, taking it so well,’ coriolanus grunted against your ear as he pounded into you.

sejanus whimpered as you squeezed at his tip, hips thrusting helplessly, and a moan escaped your own lips as coriolanus gave a final, rough buck into your used cunt. he felt spurts of hot, sticky cum paint your walls, dripping down his aching cock.

coriolanus fucked the cum back into you, watching with an impish grin as your cunt sucked in his load; his cock was dripping with it too, and he felt turned on wondering whether it was his or sejanus’ that was costing him. either way, you were their’s now.

‘so much for strip poker,’ you laughed, breath heavy with exhaustion.

sweat beaded all of your skin, your breasts glistening beneath the ambient light of the room. you cast your eyes to the cards and chips strewn across the coffee table; your clothes tossed carelessly on the floor. your head swum with the heady excess of your bliss, and you sighed.

‘well, i’m not going to say no to another round,’ coriolanus murmured, causing the three of you to give an exasperated laugh. you wondered if you’d ever look at strip poker the same way again. probably not.

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nikkento-writes · 3 months ago

Text

Bad Romance

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.7k

cw: Wild West au, no curses au, violence, implied sex work, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut - PIV sex, blow job, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pet names, creampie

Summary: You’re the Vixen Viper, an outlaw on the run with an outstanding bounty. You find a temporary safe-haven at the Star Saloon, protecting the women who work there while they protect you from the authorities. One night, a bounty hunter by the name of Toji Fushiguro shows up, threatening to cause some trouble. Somehow, you find the perfect way to subdue him.

Author's Note: This is a repost from my old blog! I originally wrote this as a request for a milestone event I was doing and it's still one of my fave fics that I've written, so I wanted to share it on here. I'm thinking of writing a Part 2 to this, we'll see! I just love the idea of Toji in the Wild West, idk, I think it fits him very well. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are never expected, but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Midnight at the Star Saloon is always lively with rambunctious activity. It’s the perfect time for stragglers moseying through town or the miscreant locals to stop by for a break, meaning booze, gambling, or sex. Usually all three in one night. You’ve been a regular here for almost three months now, befriending the women and men who work hard to keep the patrons satisfied. Whether it’s serving alcohol until they fall out of their seats, enabling poker addictions, or riding their cocks in one of the private rooms upstairs at a special rate, they do it all to make an honest living. Though on occasion, customers will cross the line.

And that’s where you come in.

It started two months ago, after you had frequented the saloon enough times to be considered a regular. It was around three in the morning when one of the barmaids approached you, asking you to follow her upstairs. She led you into the private room all the way down the hall, and inside was another worker, sitting at the foot of the bed, cheek swollen and a black eye all on the left side of her face. That’s all you needed to see to set you off. The perp had already left, but you knew who he was as soon as she described him. And, of course, like all assholes do, thinking they got away with it, he came back. When he did, it was you this time who took him upstairs to that same bedroom, dressed in one of the barmaid’s outfits. You, who flirted with him and stripped him naked on the bed, promising to give him exactly what he deserved. And finally, it was you who robbed him and held a sharp blade to his pathetic penis, threatening to slice it right off if he ever showed his ugly fucking face in this town again. You haven’t seen him since.

At that time, your friends at the Star Saloon already knew you were someone who could handle things. Maybe it was the way you dressed at first, often showing up in cowboy attire, ready to book it if the situation called for it. Or maybe it was because they recognized you from the wanted posters plastered in the next town over, your silly nickname the Vixen Viper in big bold print below an unflattering photo of you from the last time you landed in jail, right before you escaped. They never mentioned it; never reported you to the authorities. Instead, they welcomed you in with open arms. There’s a bounty on your head for the crimes you committed against sleazy men like that, but you hold no guilt for your actions. To you, and to all the women in the saloons you’ve frequented, it’s justice. They need someone like you to protect people like them. Because lord knows that no one else in this godforsaken world will.

You’ve lasted three months in this town without the authorities catching on to you yet. You look quite different from your poster when you’re done up in makeup and a frilly dress, dagger concealed in the garter wrapped around your thigh. And with the help of your friends, you’ve managed to hide in plain sight, posing as one of the barmaids while you patrol the late-night crowd for any possible threats. Violence against these women has significantly lessened since you’ve been around. The rumor amongst the patrons is that men who misbehave get their money taken and their dicks chopped off, which is pretty spot-on to the actual truth. So fortunately, for both the workers and the customers, there isn’t any trouble.

Tonight is a little different.

You lean against the bar doing your usual inspection, checking for people who are causing a ruckus or getting rough with any of the ladies. You’re dressed similarly to them, though you never get requested to entertain in one of the private rooms above, considering you don’t go out of your way to flirt with any of the men. You lack the illustrious charm the others do; you’re only here for when things get ugly. It surprises you when a mysterious stranger on the other side of the room points to you directly, wiggling his finger to beckon you over. He smirks, the prominent scar on his lips curving with it. You grab your drink and walk over to him, curious to see what this is about, sensing that it can’t be anything good.

When you reach his table, you give him your most cordial smile. “Good evening, sir. Is there something I can help you with?”

He grins, waving to the seat across from him. “I was hoping you can join me for a little chat.” His tone is even, though there’s a hint of something sinister in there. Maybe it’s your imagination or better yet, your intuition. You’ll soon find out.

You drag the chair out, plopping into it, laying your hands flat on your lap, palm pressed to the knife hidden beneath your skirt. He scans you up and down before asking, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him, you answer, giving him a fake one, of course. He nods, accepting it. “Toji Fushiguro. Pleasure to meet you.” He holds his hand out, which you take reluctantly, shaking it. His grip is firm, callouses rough against your own. “I saw you and knew I had to meet you.”

Your raise a brow at him. “Oh? What about me caught your eye?"

“Thought I recognized you from somewhere.” His gaze lingers on yours, expression unwavering.

Your heart stops momentarily, a rock settling in the pit of your stomach. Not here, not now. You swallow thickly, feigning ignorance. “Really? From where?”

He slides you a rolled-up paper, nodding his head for you to open it. “Take a look.”

Trembling now, you obey, unraveling it slowly until you see the words WANTED: ALIVE and your face staring back at you. There’s no need to go any further. You fold it up immediately, heart racing, glancing at your surroundings hoping no one else is listening in on your conversation. As calmly as you can, you lean forward towards him, muttering, “So what, are you going to arrest me? Hog-tie me in front of all these people?”

He inches even closer, noses nearly touching now, his breath tickling you. “Now, I’m a gentleman. I like to know a woman first before I tie her up.”

You scoff. “So what, am I supposed to come quietly then?”

He glances at your mouth, then back to your eyes. “I’m willing to negotiate if you have something to offer.”

You clear your throat, intrigued by his response. “Let’s discuss this somewhere more private,” you say, grabbing his wrist and dragging him up the stairs with you.

“Lead the way, Vixen.”

You lead him to the very end of the hallway, the furthest room away from the bar downstairs. There’s a fire escape just outside the window, your best chance to evade arrest. First, you’ll have to subdue him.

Inside, you lock the door shut, turning to face him. “Are you a police officer?”

He shakes his head. “Guess again,” he answers, opening his coat to display the gun and knife hanging on his belt.

“Bounty hunter,” you state, glaring at him.

“Yup. And you, my dear, have a very hefty bounty on your pretty little head.” He steps towards you, caging you between his arms, your back flat against the door. Although you remain untouched, his presence is suffocating.

“What do want?” you ask him, breathing in deeply through your nose.

“All the loot you robbed from those scumbags. Enough to exceed the bounty I’d get if I brought you back with me.”

You smirk. “Is that it?”

“And a deal,” he adds. “A partnership.”

You stare at him, confused. “What?”

He laughs, amused by your reaction. “I’ll admit, I’m a fan of your work. Drifting through town-to-town, robbing sleazy assholes. And you haven’t been caught until now. It’s impressive.”

You’re caught off guard by the praise, relaxing just the slightest bit. “So, what do you propose?”

He lets his arms down, placing his hands in his pockets while he explains himself. “There are several bounties for men exactly like the ones you hate. If you promise to help me get them, I won’t take you in tonight. I’ll even give you some of the money. If you’re good.”

“And why can’t you do this yourself?”

“It’s easier to get a guy when his guard’s down. If there’s a pretty little thing like you seducing him, catching him will be easy as pie.”

You stare at him, contemplating his proposition. It’s an easy decision for you to make. It’s either this, or jail. “Fine. You have a deal.”

He offers his hand to you. “Put it there, partner.” His tone is soft, almost sincere. You can’t help thinking that if this were any other scenario, you’d find him attractive. Hell, even in this one, you’re drawn to him. You take his hand, shaking it. He tugs you in closer, voice low and seductive. “I think we should celebrate this new friendship. What do you say?”

You smile at him, what feels like the first genuine one of the night. Maybe this isn’t as bad as you initially thought. When you close the distance, his mouth is on yours quickly, lips smacking, wet and sloppy. He slides out of his jacket, letting it thud loudly on the hardwood with his weapons weighing it down. The shirt he wears is tight on his body, clinging to him, emphasizing his muscular physique. You can’t remember the last time you were intimate with a man without the intention to backstab him. In fact, it’s been a while since you were intimate at all. With him guiding you, however, you match his movements naturally, sliding your hands up his torso, pawing at his chest as his hands squeeze your hips, pulling you towards the bed.

He moans, slipping his wide tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss and exerting his dominance. “Can’t wait to see what the Vixen Viper can really do,” he huffs, hoisting the hem of your dress, bunching it in his fist. His fingers trail the inside of your thighs, stopping at the garter, feeling the handle of the knife strapped to you. He clicks his tongue, mouth hovering your ear, hooking his finger to snap the elastic against your skin. “You really are dangerous.”

You let out a whimper, your pussy throbbing with arousal. He grabs the blade by the handle, whipping it out from its holster, tossing it to the other side of the room away from you. You chuckle, lifting your arms up so he can strip you properly. “Are you scared of me?”

He removes your corset swiftly, squeezing your bare breasts in his hands, thumbs flicking at your nipples. “I don’t want to get stabbed in case you change your mind.”

You shove him onto the bed, where he lies flat on his back, watching you straddle his lap, naked. “If I do that, then I wouldn’t get to fuck you.”

He laughs loudly, biting his lip. “Oh? You’re the one who’s gonna fuck me?”

“Yeah, I reckon,” you reply, unbuckling his belt and undoing his zipper. He continues to watch you intently, groaning when you shimmy his pants off to release his cock. It flops against his abdomen, even bigger than you imagined, all veiny and girthy. You salivate at the sight of it, opening your mouth for a taste.

“Fuck,” he curses, head relaxing into mattress, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling as you sink down on him, swallowing him up until the tip hits the back of your throat. You bob up and down on his shaft, gripping the base of his cock, swirling your tongue around the head. “You suck cock like a fucking whore. Did your friends out there teach you that?”

You grasp his balls in your hand, squeezing them tight, causing him to shudder. Shaking your head, you say, “I learned this from experience.”

He smirks. “Yeah? Come here. Put this pussy on my face. Bet I can teach you something you haven’t learned yet.”

You release him, crawling up his body until your wet cunt is pressed to his lips. His tongue laps at your arousal, swirling around your aching clit. You grip the top of the headboard, grinding on him. “Oh fuck!”

His hands surround your ass, squeezing at your soft cheeks, fingers digging into your flesh. He hums into your skin, the vibrations adding to the sensation. He nods beneath you, encouraging you. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take it. Take it like a good slut.”

He takes you into his mouth, slurping at your clit until your gushing all over his face, your orgasm shiny on his lips and chin. His eyes are wild with excitement, peering up at you between your legs. Kissing the plush of your thighs, he says, “Well, go on then, Vixen. Fuck me.”

Soon, you’re sinking down onto his fat cock, pussy already soaking wet with slick and spit. He fills you up to the brim, taking a few seconds to adjust to size comfortable. When you’re ready, you start to bounce on his lap, his cock thrusting in and out of you smoothly. He hits your sweet spot over and over, stimulating you into another messy orgasm after just a few solid strokes. Your tongue hangs out of your mouth, drool leaking down your chin, throat dry from the incessant moaning.

“Look at you. So fucked out for me,” he growls, planting his feet on the bed, taking control. He grabs onto your hips firmly, pounding up into you, watching your entire body convulse with each delicious thrust. “You talk a big game, but you like being manhandled like this. You’re just a slutty little hole waiting to be ruined. Waiting for the right man to use you.” He presses his thumb to your clit, massaging it with deep strokes. “Seems like you finally met the perfect partner.”

“Fuck, Toji!” you cry out, unraveling once again.

He increases his pace, the bed creaking noisily below you. “That’s it, baby. Come with me. Gonna breed this perfect pussy. Gonna fill you up so fucking good.” He pulls you down towards him, wrapping you in his arms, kissing you fiercely as he pumps his load inside you.

You both lay still for a moment, catching your breaths, Toji peppering delicate smooches along your neck. You’re surprised at how gentle he’s being, considering his brutish behavior from earlier. When enough silence passes, you look at him, grinning. “What a way to celebrate, am I right? Partner?”

He laces his fingers with yours. “The beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

After you clean yourselves up as best as possible, you snuggle together under the covers, him spooning you from behind. “’Night, Toji Fushiguro.”

He nuzzles his nose to the nape of your neck, whispering, “What’s your real name?”

You smile, grazing your lips on his knuckles, actually giving it to him.

~~~

Toji Fushiguro, the most sought-after bounty hunter in all the west, wakes up the morning feeling fantastic.

He glances to his side, hoping to see his lovely new partner still peacefully asleep beside him. To his surprise, no one is there. He inspects the room, searching for clues on where she ran off to and notices nothing.

And that’s when it hits him. There’s nothing in the room.

All his clothes are gone, his weapons, the wallet full of cash buried in his pockets, even the very blanket they fell asleep under. He’s as naked as the day he was born, confused and beguiled until he finally realizes it. He’s been robbed. And it was the Vixen Viper who robbed him.

The only thing he finds is her wanted poster, folded up on the bedside table, a small note scribbled to the back of it:

Toji - Thanks for the fun night, but I don’t do partners. Maybe the next time you catch me, I’ll reconsider.

He laughs, unable to contain his smile as he reads her real name signed at the end of it.

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