#sure shot betting tips

[itneverendshere]

we say we’re different but we got the same eyes - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you needed to stop taking other people shift’s. 

it’s not like you wanted to, but at least they were paying you to do so, enough to let you actually chill this summer without stressing about rent or whatever else adulthood decided to throw at you.

all you had to do was show up and do the job. first at lila’s dinner, now at the bougie country club, as a cart girl.

you’d done this before, and sure, the old men were always a little too handsy with their beer guts hanging over their tacky polos, but at least they tipped well. you could tolerate them. smile, giggle at their half-assed jokes, and let them feel like they still had it. 

fine. pay me for my pain, grandpa. 

today however, instead of your usual sugar-daddy wannabes, you were babysitting frat boys. fresh out of their first year of college, probably still hungover from their last keg stand.

nineteen-year-old idiots in pastel shorts and backwards hats, making everything about themselves.

“bro, you remember that party at kappa? dude, swear i blacked out after like, five shots.”

wow, five whole shots? congrats, you absolute child. should i get you a sticker for that?

don’t even get started on their conversations about girls. one of them, chad or brad or whatever his stupid name was, just had to loudly detail how some poor innocent girl “totally wanted him last night but was playing hard to get.”

yeah, bro, she was probably just trying to get through the night without having to mace your entitled ass.

it was constant. the whole damn morning. all they talked about was frat parties, girls they didn’t deserve, and how they "couldn’t wait to get back to school."

you'd give anything to remind them how utterly irrelevant their frat status was in the real world, but you couldn’t. nope. you had to keep your game face on, pour their drinks, and pretend like they weren’t giving you a headache that rivaled your worst hangovers.

at least the elderly snobs tipped well. sure, they were pretentious and acted like you were beneath them, but they'd slip you a twenty or more with a smug little wink. that made it easier to tolerate their "i’ve been golfing here since before you were born" bullshit.

but these brats?

half the time they forgot to tip at all, and when they did remember, it was a crumpled five like they were doing you some grand favor. and of course, of course, they couldn’t just keep their obnoxious, beer-breath comments to themselves. no, they had to make it worse by hitting on you—hard. 

painfully hard. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, except instead of pulling over to help, you were stuck right in the middle, praying someone would just tow your ass out.

“yo, what’s your name again?” one of them asks. bryce, probably. his face just screams bryce.

he's leaning against the cart like he thinks it's going to make him look cool, but really, he’s just sloshing his drink all over the place. classy.

“it’s on my name tag,” you deadpan, pointing to the little badge pinned to your polo. you're not about to give him any more than that.

but he's not letting it go. “oh yeah? cute name for a cute girl. you single or what?”

jesus christ. here we go.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of your head. 

“’m here to work,” you sigh, voice sweet enough to mask the absolute disdain you're feeling. you know what comes next.

they always think they can charm you if they just keep going, like you are some kind of challenge.

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” another one chimes in, this one wearing sunglasses even though it's barely 9 a.m.

who do you think you are, pitbull? 

he gives you this sleazy grin like he thinks he's smoother than he actually is. “we could take you out after your shift. grab a drink. bet you’re fun, huh?”

fun? FUN?! if by fun he means fantasizing about driving this cart straight into the water hazard just to escape this conversation, then sure, you're a real blast.

you look around the course, hoping maybe one of the older golfers needs a refill or something—anything to get you away from this nightmare. no luck. it's just you and these clowns.

“i don’t date customers,” you say, a line you’d perfected at this point.

you plaster on your fakest smile, the kind that said please tip me and then leave me the hell alone. but bryce wasn’t giving up.

“you’re really gonna turn us down? i mean, we’re the best thing on this course right now.”

best thing?

the only thing they're the best at seems to be embarrassing themselves. this is the type of guy who probably thinks buying a girl a drink meant she owns him something.

you can't even be mad; it's almost... sad. almost.

“maybe you should focus on your game,” you suggest, glancing at his scorecard. “you’re, what, ten over par already?”

that shuts him up real quick, his face going from cocky to confused like he didn't expect you to know how golf worked.

his friend with the sunglasses? he's still trying.

“we can show you a good time, y’know. we’ve got a house down on the beach. you like boats?”

ah, yes. the boat move. the go-to for guys who think a half-assed yacht and a cooler full of cheap beer is the height of luxury.

you’d seen it a million times in this godforsaken town.

you're not impressed.

you shoot them another smile, “i like tips.”

they all blink confusedly, clearly not used to a girl calling them out so directly. the frat boys mumble something between themselves, looking awkward for the first time all day.

finally, one of them fishes a crumpled twenty out of his pocket and tosses it your way. 

oh, wow, big spender. 

you scoop it up, shoving it into your pocket and giving them a little nod. “thanks, boys. good luck with your game.”

you thought the twenty bucks might’ve bought you a few minutes of peace, but no. they're back at it, swinging at golf balls like they aren't trying to flirt in between their awful shots.

you roll the cart over to the next part of the course, half-listening to their constant chatter.

something about “last semester” this, and “pledge party” that. god, they just never stop. it's like someone hit the repeat button on the world’s most annoying playlist.

one of them calls you over again, like he can't wait five minutes for his next drink. you start prepping them, half tuning them out, just trying to get through it, when suddenly, miraculously, they shut the hell up.

for a second, you think maybe the universe is finally doing you a favor. you don't even question it, just start pouring drinks faster.

a quiet frat boy is a gift. but then you hear it:

“dude!” one of them practically tackles the other, all wide-eyed and hyped up like a little kid who just saw his favorite cartoon character. “is that rafe fucking cameron?!”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

your stomach drops. of course it has to be him. because clearly, your morning isn't being shitty enough. you don't even look at first. 

one of the guys starts flipping out, hitting his buddy’s shoulder like it's the coolest thing to ever happen.

“bro, no way. no way. that’s rafe cameron? he used to be the president of our frat, man. two years ago! he’s a fucking legend!”

legend? you almost laugh.

the only legend rafe is to you it's a legendary asshole. a smug, infuriating, gorgeous asshole who you have been avoiding like the plague. the same one who has been blowing up your phone nonstop, trying to get back into your life.

the same one you swore down you’d never sleep with again after he pulled that stunt at the dinner—and then, of course, ended up in his bed two nights ago. you haven't spoken to him since. you’d been ignoring him again—well, trying to—but now here he is. in the flesh. and these idiots are drooling over him like he's some kind of frat god.

you turn your head, and he's striding across the green like he doesn't have a care in the world. of course he looks good. he always does.

wayfarer’s pushed up in his hair, that cocky-ass grin on his face, wearing a polo like he's the face of a country club catalog. you know he’d see you any second. hell, he probably already has. 

yeah, you’d been avoiding him, and yeah, maybe you’d blocked his number twice, but that didn’t stop him from calling with a different one. or from somehow finding you the other night at the party when you were weak enough to let him back in, only to get burned again.

“holy shit, he’s coming this way,” one of the frat boys mutters, shaking with excitement.

you don't move, don't acknowledge him. but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like a sixth sense at this point. you'd crave it so much before, when it was all a silly game in your head, see how much you could push until he cracked and gave into you. now it's a curse.

the boys are watching him approach like he's some kind of celebrity.

“should we say something to him?” one whispers. “i heard he’s like, killing it in the business world now. family’s loaded.”

yeah, you think bitterly. killing it. if you count being a trust fund brat as an accomplishment.

rafe's closer now, and you know this moment is inevitable. the frat boys are giddy, already nudging each other, probably ready to beg him for networking advice or whatever the hell frat bros did.

you keep your eyes down, focusing on pouring the drinks, acting like you don't even notice him. like he doesn't phase you in the slightest.

“hey,” a familiar voice drawls. you don't have to lift your head to know it's him. naturally, he stops right by you. because why wouldn’t he?

“rafe fucking cameron!” one of the guys yells, unable to keep it together anymore. “you’re like a legend, man. kappa forever!”

you never cringed so hard in your life.

rafe smirks, that signature look spreading across his face. “yeah, somethin' like that.”

you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral. no way in hell are you about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still gets to you. 

everyone else around you are tripping over their words just to get his attention. it's embarrassing to watch. the kids acting like he's some kind of messiah, not just some white rich guy with a trust fund and a bad attitude half the time.

“man, the outer banks is fucking sick,” one of them says, bouncing on his feet like an overexcited puppy. “we’ve been hitting the beaches, bars, y’know, living it up. and bro, the girls here? smoking hot.”

here we go. 

you pretend to be very invested in the cooler, rearranging the ice just to keep your hands busy. they're about to start pointing at you any second now; you can sense it.

the way they keep looking over at you made it obvious they're gearing up for something.

and then, like clockwork, it happens.

“yeah, man,” one of them gestures way too enthusiastically in your direction. “that cart girl over there? we’ve been trying all morning.”

oh, fuck right off, you resist the urge to throw a bottle at him.

you’d rather die than hear what lame pickup line is coming next, but what you really don't want to hear is whatever rafe's about to say.

there was a pause, as if he's taking a second to let it sink in. and when he finally does speak, his voice is all smooth confidence, casual as anything.

“so,” he starts, still with smirk you hate and know so well, “you’ve met my girl?”

my girl? my fucking girl?

one of them, manages to stammer, “uh—wait, she’s… she’s your girl?”

you can feel the tension creeping up the back of your neck. this's exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.

no matter what happened between you, no matter how messy things got, he always acted like he owned you in private. never in front of his friends, like just because you ended up in his bed, you were his to claim whenever he felt like it.

still keeping your eyes glued to the drinks, you feel your blood boil. you aren't his fucking girl. you're barely on speaking terms, aside from that one weak moment.

he's only saying it to mess with you.

one of the frat boys lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “damn, man. didn’t know you were still pulling like that.” he shoots a glance at you again, not even bothering to hide the once-over.

rafe just chuckles, that low, infuriating laugh of his, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. “what can i say?” he drawls, as if the whole thing is just a game to him. “guess i’ve still got it.”

you're this close—this close—to snapping. you can feel your fists clenching at your sides. you're not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. not here. not in front of these frat boys who're still looking at you like some kind of trophy.

rafe’s voice is closer now. you don't have to look up to know he's standing right by the cart.

“you good over there?” he asks, that fake casual tone still lingering.

you don't answer. just kept doing your job, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts. but he isn't going to let it go. he never did when he wanted to prove a point.

“hey, baby.” he greets you again, leaning in slightly. you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. “you gonna pretend you don’t know me now?”

you take a deep breath, finally turning to face him. he's standing way too close, sunglasses pushed up on his head, that stupid expression plastered across his face.

the frat boys are all watching, wide-eyed, like they just stumbled onto some kind of reality show drama.

“you’re funny, cameron.” the guys all exchange glances, clearly picking up on the tension but too dumb to understand it, “can you guys give us a minute?”

one of them pipes up with an awkward laugh, “wait, but we—”

you don't let him finish. “one. minute.” 

they finally catch on that it isn't a request and before they can awkwardly protest or ask why, rafe tilts his head towards them, craning his neck just enough to raise a single brow. the change in his posture is subtle but enough to have them clamming up instantly.

like magic, their frat-boy bravado melts right off. it's wild how fast a bunch of college boys can shrink under the gaze of someone like him.

the power trip they’ve been riding for the last hour stop.

“uh, yeah, you know what?” one of them coughs out, backing up so fast he almost trips over his golf bag. “we should, uh… we’ll hit the bathroom. real quick.”

“yeah, yeah, we’ll be right back,” another one adds, practically stumbling over himself to follow.

they scatter like scared puppies, tails tucked between their legs, and you can't help the small, satisfied smirk that twitches at the corner of your mouth.

finally, a moment of peace.

except, it's not peace. not with rafe standing there. 

as soon as the frat boys are out of earshot, you spin around, without thinking, you shove him in the chest with both hands, hard enough to catch him off guard. he stumbles back a step, his face twisting into a look of surprise.

"are you fucking crazy?" you snap, "do you not get the fucking hint, country club? i don’t want this. i don’t want you here, and i sure as hell don’t want your bullshit claims that ’m your girl in front of those idiots. leave. me. alone.”

he steadies himself, raising both hands as if trying to calm you down. “’m trying to be better, okay? ’m trying. i apologized the other night, didn’t i? ’m—”

“no, you didn’t!” you look at him like he's the dumbest man on earth, cutting him off, your hands balled into fists at your sides. “you didn’t apologize! you said i was overreacting, that i was being ‘dramatic.’ then, you fucked me and acted like that made it all better.”

his jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath as he glances around the mostly empty golf course before his eyes move back to you, his voice low but firm. "that’s not how i meant it—"

“you always have an excuse,” you interrupt, stepping closer, not backing down. “every time, it’s the same thing. you think a half-assed apology or a night in bed makes up for the way you treat me in public? like ‘m just some thing you get to claim whenever you feel like it?"

he visibly recoils at the word you chose, like it hurts him, “i know,” he finally mutters “i know i was a dick at that dinner. but ’m trying, okay? i’ve been calling you, texting you—”

“i didn’t ask. am i that good in bed? go find someone else.”

rafe’s hand flies up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh escaping him. he draggs his tongue against his cheek. his voice coming out clipped, “i don’t want someone else,” he grunts out, sounding more exasperated than ever. “jesus fucking christ.”

you let out a laugh, stepping back, eyes rolling.

“oh, right. that’s it? ’m really that good in bed, huh? that’s why you’re here?” you cross your arms, your tone biting, daring him to say otherwise. “that’s all this has ever been, right? physical. you don’t call unless you want something. so what now? why are you trying so hard? what the hell are you trying for?”

he doesn't respond right away, his fingers are digging into the bridge of his nose like he's trying to hold himself together. the silence continues, and you can see him wrestling with his words. he's never been the type to say what he was feeling.

everything is buried under layers of cocky bravado, that impenetrable wall he put up to keep everyone at arm’s length. including you.

finally, he dropps his hand and takes a step closer, his voice coming out rough like he's forcing the words out. “’m here because i don’t want someone else. i want you, alright? can you just get that through your fucking head?”

you scoff, “because i know you and won’t get attached?”

he snaps, raising his voice, “no! fuck, it’s not that simple.”

"not that simple?" your hands are shaking, and you accidentally knock over one of the bottles you’d been holding before, sending it tumbling to the ground. you don't bother picking it up.

“it’s pretty fucking simple. we’re just fucking. so, tell me, what exactly is complicated about that? you call, i come over, we have sex, and that’s it. so why the fuck do you start ignoring me in public like ’m some kind of fucking disease?”

rafe opens his mouth, but you don't spare him the chance to speak, you're on a roll, months of pent-up frustration. 

“i don’t give a fuck if you’re with someone else, rafe!” you can hear the bitterness dripping from every word. you're practically spitting them out, “what pisses me off is that you had the audacity—the fucking nerve—to ask me to stay that night. do you know how fucking stupid i felt? how the fuck do you think i felt when you acted like i didn’t exist the next day?”

you can feel your hands trembling again, the adrenaline making you shaky, cursing under your breath.

“for once, i was nice enough to care about you, to stay, and that’s the shit you pulled. treated me like a ghost. like i was nothing.”

he just stands there, staring at you, his jaw tight, but he doesn't say a word. his face is hard to read, but you don't care about his feelings. you're not done yet.

“i was fine with the sex. i was fine with leaving afterwards and then you had to go and fuck it all over.”

rafe’s blue eyes flash, and you can see the realization hit him, like he's connecting the dots too fast for your liking.

his brows furrow as he breathes out, “wait. you’re mad at me because i made you—” he hesitates, like the word is foreign in his mouth, “care for me?”

you let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “oh, for fuck's sake, country club. don't flatter yourself.”

“you always do that shit,” he points out, stepping closer “you never call me by my name when we’re having a serious conversation. it's almost like you’re running away.”

you arch an eyebrow, incredulous. “are you delusional? you’re the one acting like a child.”

“’m not being delusional. you only say my name in my room when it’s just the two of us.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he's trying to keep this moment between you, his blue eyes lock onto yours making your stomach twist. “’m clearly not the only one who’s pretending here; you’re just as bad.”

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you walk back, trying to create space, but he closes the distance with easy confidence.

“pretending? please. ‘m not the one playing house in my bedroom while acting like i don’t know you outside of it.”

rafe lets out a low, frustrated groan, running his hand through his hair like he's close to losing it. 

“god, you’re fucking infuriating,” he mutters, voice gruff, “you think i don’t fucking feel it too? you’re the only one pissed off, the only one confused?” his voice dipps lower in frustration. “i can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard i try. "

“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you mocked back, “must be so hard, huh? being obsessed with a girl you can’t even respect in public.”

his hand reaches out to grab your wrist. you gasp, not out of fear but because the heat of his touch awakes the resting butterflies in your stomach. you hate how much your skin reacts to him, how just the feel of his grip makes your brain go foggy and shut down.

“i do respect you,” he growls, as if you just insulted him, “i just—fuck.” his eyes dart between yours, as if searching for something. then, like clockwork, he points at your work uniform—the stupid polo and that absurdly short skirt that's practically a sin in itself.

“this,” he grits out, fingers gesturing to the tight polo that does absolutely nothing but make your boobs look way too inviting, “is not okay.”

you blink, pretending to be unaffected, but his words have a way of crawling under your skin.

“oh, right,” you nod sarcastically, even though your pulse has kicked up a notch. “blame my uniform, like that’s the reason you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

rafe groans like you're causing him actual physical pain, his hands gripping the edge of the golf cart now, knuckles turning white.

“shit, yeah, i’ll blame the uniform,” he says, eyes blazing as he corners you. “that tiny-ass skirt, walking around in front of me all day, making me lose my goddamn mind.”

just like that, his hand slide right under your mini skirt, his fingers gripping a handful of your ass with a confidence that makes your breath hitch.

the sudden contact sends a rush of heat through you, and a soft gasp escapes your glossy lips.

that’s when he takes his chance.

with another low groan, rafe seizes the moment, pressing his body against yours, leaning down as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, the kiss deepening in an instant.

it's not sweet—you can tell that now because you know that hidden part of him, you can tell the difference when it comes out. today he's desperate like he’s been waiting to it for days and can't take it anymore.

he's a starved man on a mission. it's a feverish mess of spit and teeth, his grip on you impossibly tight.

his hand still kneads your ass, blunt fingernails digging into your skin trying to keep you from bolting away. at the same time, his other hand slides up to your neck, firm but not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you locked in place—he's daring you to pull away, knowing full well you won't.

logic doesn't stand a chance against the way his lips move against yours, he's sucking all the fight from you.

his tongue slides against yours, and your stomach jumps at the sensation, making you gasp. you try to pull back for a second, needing air, needing space, but his grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place as his lips move against yours like he'll die if you stop.

and maybe he would. maybe he's just as messed up about all of this as you are.

rafe’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and right then and there, you know your panties are already ruined. you can't stop the small whimper that escapes your throat, and he moans at the sound, his hips pressing harder against yours, making you feel just how much he wants you.

“fuck,” he almost whines against your lips, like he's barely keeping himself from fucking you out there in the open, not giving a shit if anyone's watching. his hand on your neck glides around to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he tuggs slightly, tilting your head back so he can kiss you even harder, his lips moving against yours in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

the truth is, you do. you know exactly what you do to him because he's doing the same thing to you.

but there's no way in hell you’ll admit that. not when he already has you completely under his spell, melting into his touch, drowning in the way he kisses you like he owns you.

you attempt to hold onto that edge of disdain you always throw his way when things get too personal. his breath is hot and ragged as he hovers.

his hand, still tangled in your hair, loosens slightly but stays there. it's so fucking unfair—the way he just sneaks under your skin, the way your body betrays you every time he gets close. you hate it.

especially with the way his fingers are already sliding up your bare thigh under that ridiculously skirt, as if he owns every single inch of you, like he has a goddamn right to touch you like that.

and instead of pushing him away like you should, you find yourself leaning into him. and fuck, the look in his eyes—all black, wild, like he it's his last shred of self-control—is enough to make your pulse skyrocket.

“asshole,” it comes out weak, pathetic and almost breathless, and you hate yourself for it.

“yeah,” he whispers back, lips brushing yours, his hand still in your hair, still holding you close. “but you like it.”

god, maybe you did.

the frat boys finally return, their laughter breaking the bubble that had you on a leash.

within seconds, you're pushing rafe’s hands away, stepping back as of them claps him on the back.

“we miss anything?”

“nah, just catchin’ up,” rafe said, brushing off the whole thing as if it's no big deal.

you, on the other hand, pick up one of the empty glasses, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

one of the guys chuckles. “man, you two�� y’all good?”

no. not when there's the slightest of the slightest possibility that you're starting to feel something for him. not the stupid crush you had before, or the simple curiosity of figuring out how he was in bed. 

real, scary, big girl feelings. 

no way. not after everything. not after he pulled that same crap, acting like you didn’t know you in front of his friends, then turning around and getting all possessive when it suited him.

 “better than ever.”

eyes locked on rafe, you bite out the final blow.

“yeah, better than ever. just like every other fucking rich frat boy—using daddy’s money, pretending you’re a god. but deep down, you’re all the same. losers. why don’t you keep them company, huh? you’re all family after all.”

his blue eyes drop to the green field at the mention of his dad, but he keeps quiet despite realizing you’re doing this on purpose.

he’ll let you have this one because he knows it’s deserving. fuck he’d probably let you punch him in the face if you asked him to. 

you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him behind, knowing you hit him exactly where it hurt.

[bruisedboys]

remus who needs to make eye contact with reader when talking bc she has his full attention but she tries averting her gaze and he’s Tall so he does that thing where he bends his head down/chases her eyes so they maintain contact

ugh this!!!!!!!! he definitely does this, so hot of him honestly. I didn’t do justice to your idea at all but I gave it a shot!!!

rockstar!remus lupin x fem!reader

Remus gets off stage and he’s somehow a billion times hotter than he was two hours ago. It’s cruel. He’s the kind of handsome that begs to be looked at. You don’t blame his screaming fans. Not when you’d definitely be one of them if it weren’t for your lucky position of the bassists girlfriend.

“Hey,” Remus says, slinging his bass over his shoulder as he jogs towards you. His headset dangles around his neck, makeup smudged under his eyes and his hair in disarray, and yet he heads straight for you, brushing away a couple of techies who try to wave him down. He comes to a halt in front of you, still buzzing with onstage energy. “Can I hug you?”

“Yeah,” you nod, breathless and he’s only said a few words. He’s so handsome you can’t think straight. He hugs you hard, and you don’t even care that he’s sweating buckets. His arms cage you, strong and heavy, and he smells like sweat and musk, his cologne subtle but heady.

“You played amazing,” you tell him as his hands roam your back, one between your shoulder blades and another at the small of your back, pressing you in.

Remus pulls back, hot hands sliding to hold you by the shoulders. He squeezes you, calloused thumbs at your collar. He’s smiling so big you’re sure his cheeks hurt. “

“Cause I had my lucky charm,” he says, chucking you under the chin. “I’m so glad you came, pretty girl.”

Heat flares behind your cheeks. You can’t believe he’s real, can’t believe he’s this handsome and calling you pretty and telling you he’s glad you came to his show. As if you’d ever even think about being anywhere else tonight but here. You dip your head so you don’t have to look at his handsome face, opting instead for the dirty backstage floor.

“I’m glad I came too,” you mumble, toeing a rogue piece of confetti with the tip of your shoe.

Remus follows you down, bending to your height and tilting his head up so you’re forced to look him in the eyes. He’s gorgeous and he’s lovely and he’s so close you could kiss him.

“What did you say, sweetheart?” He asks, lips quirked, his mouth so close that his warm breath fans over your lips. “Can’t hear you when you get all shy like that.”

You groan. He’s awful. “I’m not shy,” you protest, though you are, especially with him. You stick your chin out in a show of fake confidence. “I said I’m glad I came too.”

Remus’ grins and thumbs your jaw, then cards a hand through his messy, sweaty hair. “Mm, I bet you are, sweetheart.”

You know he’s teasing. You don’t mind it as much as you should.

[hees-mine]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐋. 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Warnings: smut, cheating, stepson, stepmom, taboo relationship, dry humping, unprotected sex, oral, anal sex, fingering, cum eating, lube, cursing, mentions of contraceptives, mommy kink-ish, no plot.

Genre: 18+, step relationship, taboo. Not proofread.

WC: 4,823k

⟱⟱⟱

“Come on, Mommy,” heeseung chuckles while standing behind you, caging you between the kitchen counter you were preparing dinner on and his slim body.

His dad’s at work, you’re home alone, and even though you shot him down countless times in the past, he figured he’d try again now since you two had the place all to yourselves for the next few hours.

Call him shameless for trying to take his dad’s woman, but he doesn’t care. His dad never treated you right anyway, so why should he respect him when he can’t even respect his wife?

“Please,” he whines next to your ear. Despite his closeness, he keeps all parts of his body off of you, giving you your space well, somewhat, anyway. “He’s gone, baby. It’s just you and me,” he smiles, blowing a gust of air against your cheek, making you shiver. “Can’t be a bad mom and say no to your stepson, can you?”

“Heeseung, quit it.” You pushed his arm away from your body, breaking out of the cage he had trapped you in and grabbing a pot from the cupboard to put your ingredients on the stove with.

“Why?” He whines like a little kid and follows you around the kitchen like one too softly tugging on your dress to get your attention.

“I’m telling your father if you don’t stop,” you tell him sternly cause you were growing tired of the antics that he’d perform every time his dad was out at work.

“You won’t,” he quickly replied. “I know you want it to cause if you didn’t, why haven’t you already told me off? Why are you letting me invade your personal space and whisper the nastiest things in your ear, hmm?” Again, he captures you between the counter and his body and presses his cheek against yours, nuzzling you and making your breath hitch when his warm skin meets yours.

You hated how he was right. You hated how you were married and committed to another man, but you wanted his son, and you hated even more that you could slowly feel yourself losing your resolve.

“Deny it,” he gripped the counter so hard, willing himself not to brush his throbbing cock on your perfectly shaped ass in that beautiful gown that he loved so much fuck he always loved when you wore it so easy and accessible. He swears he’s thought about bending you over and fucking you in it time and time again.

“S-stop,” you stutter out, and you’re sure that whatever he says next will tip you over the edge. Just the sound of his voice could have you doing unspeakable things.

“You sure you want me to? Let’s be honest. You need a good fuck, right? I haven’t heard shit coming from upstairs in years. Come to think of it, baby, when’s the last time you and him even kissed?” He pushes his point, enticing you even further.

“I-I”

“You don’t remember, huh? Poor thing, bet your little pussy is aching for some dick l bet she's so tight probably needs a good stretch, yeah? I can do that for you, baby. I can make you feel so so good,” he moans next to your ear. Just the idea of his cock being this close to your little holes was turning him on so bad. “I’d get you so wet. Rub that little clit to get you in the mood. Take my time with you. Appreciate every inch of you before slipping it in real slow, feeling your cute cunt wrap around me so tight and eager to be fucked. I’d make you cream on this big dick all night till you’re crying from how good it feels, and then I’d fuck you one last time just so you don’t forget about me” he nibbles on your earlobe as you register all the filthy things he had just whispered in your ear.

At his words, you lost yourself moaning shamelessly at just the thought of him having you, your pussy clenched so tight around nothing as a wave of arousal gushed down to your thighs. 

You surprised him and yourself when you desperately pushed your backside against his crotch, something neither of you would ever expect to happen with the way you were so diligently rejecting him time and time again, but tonight, you broke. You couldn’t deny that you wanted him.

“Fuck” he groaned behind you as you rotated your hips, rubbing your plump ass on his cock. “See, baby, knew you fucking wanted this” he moves his hands from the counter to grip your plush hips instead and takes the lead, humping his cock between the crevice of your ass. “Oh yeah, just like that. Rub it on me, baby.” 

“You’re so big,” you choked out, feeling every inch of him against your ass. Your pussy dripped even more for him at the thought of having someone as big as him inside you.

“Yeah? Like that, huh? Can’t wait to stuff you with my cock and feel your cunt gripping on me” A grunt follows his words as he loses himself in the feeling of your body working against his.

His tip was so wet it was seeping through his basketball shorts as he rutted against you. The sight of you all bent over while you backed your ass up on him was something he fantasized about late nights with his fist wrapped tightly around his cock, and to have you like this now was like a dream fucking come true. “Hee, please fuck me,” you whimper and grip the faucet handles to stable yourself.

“Yes, Mommy gonna fuck you so good,” he whines and guides your body upwards, pressing your back flush against his chest as he places a kiss on your cheek. 

He turned you around in his arms, picking you up like it was nothing to him and taking you upstairs, not to his bedroom but yours. 

“Here?” You question with a hint of worry as your fingers fiddle with the hair on his nape.

“Of course, gotta fuck you properly in your bed since dad doesn’t do it” he places you on the bed, quickly dropping his shorts and tossing his tank top on the floor, leaving himself completely naked in front of you.

You squirmed in bed, rubbing your legs together at the sight of his thick throbbing cock, impatiently waiting to feel it inside of you. “Heeseung” 

“Look at how hard I am” he climbs over you on the bed, his length resting on your tummy as he bucks his hips forward dry, humping you. “Ahh, see how wet I am for you,” he moans, watching the strings of precum staining your dress. “This is what I’d do every night except with my pillow wishing it was y-you,” he shudders when his tip rubs your fabric just the right way making him hump you even faster.

“Sorry,” you mutter apologetically for leaving him high and dry all those nights. To make up for it, your hand makes its way to his cock, and you press your palm against his hot girth, making a makeshift hole for him to fuck into.

“Fuck!” He threw his back as his hips jerked forward from the soft, warm sensation your hand provided.

“Does that feel better?” You asked, your eyes gleaming in excitement, watching as more precum spilled from his thick pink tip.

“Yes,” he hisses through his teeth while staring down at you, his hands coming to cup your breasts as he rocks his hips slowly. “So much better,” he breathed out.

When he feels himself starting to throb, his movement comes to a sudden halt, and he grips your wrist, taking the hand that was covered in his precum and holding it to your mouth, where you gladly licked his salty arousal clean off your hand.

He leaned back on the bed, his hands slipping up the fabric of your dress just to see you were wearing nothing under it and your thighs coated in a white sticky mess. “Oh fuck” his eyes roll back in his head, and he doesn’t hesitate for a moment to lay flat on his stomach and presses his face between your thighs, kissing your drenched core. “You’re so fucking wet, made such a mess, and you haven’t even cum yet.” 

Your body stiffened as you felt his lips rubbing against your pussy, the feeling being foreign to you cause your husband never did that for you. “Hee-“ you winced as you felt his warm tongue press on your clit. It felt good but also overwhelming as you cried out in pleasure.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, noticing how rigid your body had become when he was going down on you, and he hoped that you weren’t about to tell him to stop.

“N-nothing, I just never done this before,” you admit casually, but he doesn’t take it as casually as you said it cause what a fucking loser his dad was. He had a gorgeous fucking wife all to himself, and he wasn’t going down on you every night? What a piece of shit. He always hated his father, but that just made him hate him a little more.

“Just relax while I make you feel good” he closed his eyes before tilting his head to the side and making out with your sweet pussy humming at the taste of your juices covering his tongue. “Could eat you for days,” he mumbles as his hands fall from the bottom of your dress and down to your thighs, where he squeezes them roughly.

“It feels so good” You arched your back, pressing your pussy closer to his face.

He chuckled softly, taking a deep breath as he opened his mouth, finding your opening with his tongue and sticking it in your gushing hole.

“Ahh! Heeseung,” you squeaked when he entered you. It’s been so long since you felt something there, and you don’t remember a time it ever felt this good.

He kneaded your thighs, flicking his tongue in and out in and out, swallowing down your drippings like the sweetest juice he’s ever tasted, and that alone could make him cum on the spot.

You mindlessly put your hand on the back of his head, pushing him deeper inside you, and he loved the roughness of it. He could barely even breathe, but he didn’t pull back for a second, too addicted to your taste to stop.

He gulped down your sticky wetness eating you out like he was getting thirstier by the second he rubbed the tip of his nose on your engorged clit, and the feeling was otherworldly.

“Oh, my- heeseung!” You shouted his name, legs tensing as you rubbed your pussy on his face using him for pleasure.

He moaned lewdly into your heat, sending tiny little vibrations through your core, heightening the pleasure even more. “Cum in my mouth,” he parted from you long enough to say before diving back into the sea of arousal between your quivering thighs.

You had no choice but to let go and let your orgasm take over your body. “I’m cumming” You writhed on the bed as he held you, still pleasure washing over you in waves. Your mouth opened in a silent scream as harsh throbbing coursed through your core. Your walls clenched so hard and tight around his tongue, and he loved every single last second of it. He was literally moaning against your cunt nonstop.

“Hmm,” he pulled away finally and kissed your mound, then your clit. “Beautiful pussy tastes so fucking good” he licked his lips, savoring your taste on his buds while massaging your thighs. “Was it good?”

“Hmph, yes, you were so good, hee.” You were still coming down from your high, whining in pure ecstasy until your o faded away completely, and you had to take a minute to catch your breath. “Let me suck you off, please” You don’t know what came over you, but the words just fell out, and you can’t say you regretted it by the way his face lit up and his cock jumped in excitement.

“You don’t even have to ask, pretty.” he quickly repositioned himself on the edge of the bed while you stood up and walked in front of him.

You shrugged your dress off each of your shoulders, pulling it down the rest of the way, leaving your body on full display for him. Your chest looked so fucking perfect. The amount of times he imagined you like this was unhealthy. The way his heart was beating in anticipation was so overwhelming he could barely even catch his breath, and his cock throbbed so hard between his legs that he thought he might cum the second you put him inside your mouth.

You crouched down, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time as you kneeled in front of him, carefully gripping his cock and kissing his tip.

He gripped the edge of the bed his toes digging into the carpet he can’t believe a single kiss could get him going this much. 

You tightened the grip around his thick base, tapping his wet tip on your cheek teasingly.

“Shit,” he hissed as you rubbed your cheek along his shaft. You could feel him pulsing in your hand, and the fact you had him this excited turned you on even more.

“So big,” you said seductively, sinking down on his tip and suckling on it softly.

“Oh yeah, that’s it,” he whispers, and you hum around him, taking more of his length in your mouth till he is halfway inside.

“Take it all. I know you wanna choke on it,” he smirks as you immediately suck the rest of him in, gagging on it, your eyes rolling back in your head as you took him so deep his balls brushed against your bottom lip.

You stayed completely still, your neck bulging as you enveloped his entire shaft. “Shit, you take me so well. Swallow that dick, baby” he put his hand on your head, stroking it softly as you swallowed, your throat convulsing around his tip so good, so tight. “Just like that fuck!” 

You reached up, rubbing his thighs as you began to bob your head blowing his cock faster until he was literally shaking in pleasure.

His hips bucked involuntarily, and you gagged again, forcing you to pull off him for a breather. Your saliva spilled all over his cock, making a wet slippery mess. “Heeseung,” you moan out his name, and you might have been enjoying this even more than him. The feeling of his hot, heavy cock resting on your tongue made your cunt pulsate with need.

“You like gagging on it, baby? Want me to fuck your throat?” You nodded immediately, and he wasted no time holding your head, still bucking his hips and drilling your throat till his tip brushed your tonsils with every thrust.

The sounds you made were so obscene, so sinful, but it turned you both on even more. The lewd act of you drooling and gagging on his cock was gonna make him cum. “Shit, I’m gonna cum. Swallow me, Mommy, swallow it all,” he moaned out, stilling in your throat, shooting his cum inside you, leaving you no choice but to drink all of his milky white cum. “Yessss.” he gripped the sides of your head, using your mouth to finish himself off, making you milk every single last drop until his balls were completely empty.

He laid back on his elbows, sweaty and panting as you pulled off him, choking and trying to catch your breath. “Come here” You stood up, and he griped your waist, pulling you on top of him, his hands softly kneading your ass as he stared at your lips. “Give me a kiss, Mommy.” Your eyes fell shut, and you pressed your lips against him, melting at the softness of them. He nibbled softly on your bottom lip, and you moaned, allowing him to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Your nails dug into his wide shoulders, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your hips on his soft cock. It felt so good rubbing your clit along his length as you kissed.

“Hmm,” he groaned into the kiss, his hips meeting yours, thrusting up and rubbing his stiffening cock on your wet core. “Need to feel you so bad,” he breathed out between kisses.

“Me too, seungie, please fuck me” As soon as the words left your lips, he easily turned you over on your back and positioned himself between your legs. “Wait!” you said, putting a hand on his chest, stopping him from going any further. “Condoms?”

Fuck, he curses in his head. “I don’t have any baby” he holds his tip to your clit, rubbing it and collecting your wetness on his shaft.

“My husband keeps some in the top drawer.” he discreetly rolls his eyes when you said your husband. Just the thought alone made him angry. Nevertheless, he erases it from his mind and checks the top drawer, and he can’t help but chuckle. “Snug? Baby, you don’t really think that’ll fit me, do you?” He smirks, and all you could do now was blush on second thought. You probably shouldn’t have even suggested that cause he’s way bigger than your husband could ever dream of. “What a fucking loser still using condoms. He’s been with you five years and can’t even start a family with you yet.”

“Seung…” you call to him. You didn’t want to think about anything else right now. You just wanted him.

He tosses the condoms back inside the drawer. “Guess I’ll just have to fuck you raw, baby” he holds the base of his cock, his tip pushing past your tight entrance, and at this point, you didn’t care that he was fucking you without a condom. You just needed to feel him in you. 

“Oh,” you whimpered as his tip stretched you open.

“Fuck you’re so tight, baby,” he grunts and rests his fists beside your head, letting you adjust as he slowly lunges forward to push his size all the way in your heat. “Fucking soaking on my dick baby.”

“Too big,” you mumble, your legs feeling numb as he splits you open on his inches.

“Shh, just relax, Mommy take it nice slow” he cups your face with his left hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he feeds your pussy inch after inch of his thick cock, pulling out and pushing back in, working your hole open till you can fit his massive size and take him balls deep.

“You’re so deep, seungie,” You moan, nails raking down his toned back as he fills you all the way up, bottoming out in your drenched pussy.

“There you go, Mommy taking it all,” he smirks and bends down to kiss your forehead. “Feel good? You like it when it’s deep inside you?” He thrusts shallowly at first, but to his surprise, you’re already fully adjusted and taking it with ease.

“Hmm, mmm, yes, heeseung, I love the way you feel deep inside me. It’s so good, so full.” You babble out, and he continues to increase the pace till his balls meet your outer lips, creating a quiet sticky sound in the silent room. 

“Fuck you’re so tight; I knew I'd have to stretch it out. Never had someone like me before, huh baby?” He grunts as he begins fucking you at a quicker pace until the sound of skin on skin fills the room.

“N-no, never fuck, hee,” you scream, your eyes squeezed shut in concentration, trying to feel every single last inch of dick that he gives you. “Faster, Seung, please.” Your hands slip from his back to his hips, guiding his pace and bringing his body into you so you can feel his tip hit your cervix with every thrust. “Oh yes, right there, don’t stop.”

“Could never stop fucking this pussy so tight and warm” He can’t help himself from feeling a little bit cocky, knowing only he has seen you like this before. “Shit, you’re creaming on my dick so much you must really love it.” 

“Yes, hee!” The bed squeaks louder with every thrust, a sound you haven’t heard in years. You know it’s wrong, but you can’t help but wish you had gotten with your husband's son because he was doing your body right in every single way, and just when you think it can’t get any better, he pulls out, flipping you over and before you can whine at the loss his cock is already back inside buried to the hilt in your cunt while he gives you the best back shots you’ve ever taken. “Fuck yes,” your voice is muffled by the pillows, and you moan nonstop while he grips your hips holding you in place to fuck you at an animalistic speed as his balls smack your clit over and over again, driving you into a lust filled frenzy where all you wanted was for his dick to be inside of you all day fucking your walls open and spilling his cum in you.

“You’re so fucking perfect wish I could fuck you every single fucking day, every second, every hour,” he punctuated with each thrust, further driving his desire for your body. “Your pussy makes me feel so fucking, Mommy” his eyes roll back momentarily, his mouth parted open, panting uncontrollably as he fucks your cunt deeply, fitting his whole cock inside you, covering himself in your creamy arousal.

You feel like you’re on cloud nine as you lay here being pleasured by the biggest cock you’ve ever taken and being praised by him nonstop. It was the best feeling in the world. You just couldn’t get enough. Your pussy was drooling down your thighs, and even still, you needed and wanted so much more.

Heeseung gathered a ball of spit in his mouth, looking down and letting it fall right on your little twitching rim. He pressed his thumb on your other hole, lubing it up with his saliva before carefully sinking his thumb inside.

Your body jolted when you felt him in both your holes, your eyes rolling back in your head as you took whatever he had to give you because you knew anything he did to your body would feel amazing, and this was no exception.

You felt so dirty having him fill both your holes at the same time, but you loved it. You loved being full of him.

“So fucking tight” he fingered your hole while fucking your pussy which was now clamped down on him even tighter, making his cock feel so good. “Want me to add another?” He bites on his lip to hold back a smile, already knowing what your answer will be.

You nod frantically, chanting yes, yes, yes over and over again into your pillows.

An idea pops into his head. He remembers there was a bottle of lube in the top drawer as well, and he doesn’t hesitate to slow his pace and grab it popping the cap off and smearing it all over your little ass hole so he could easily plunge two fingers in. “How’s that feel having both your holes fucked by me?” 

You cried into the pillows moaning nonstop at the feeling of him fucking both your holes. You arched your back even further so you could take it deeper. “Fuck!” You gripped the bedsheets for dear life while he pleasures you. “Please,” you begged, not even sure what you wanted. You just knew you wanted more.

You placed your hands on your ass, spreading yourself open even wider and giving him full access to fuck both your holes. “Fuck baby, you look so good when you’re full of me” he was in a daze. The way your body reacted to everything he did made him want to try anything and everything with you just to watch you shake and drip and scream for him, and evidently, you wanted the same.

“Fuck my ass, hee, please,” You heard him moan the loudest he has tonight as he pulled out of your dripping pussy and replaced his fingers with the head of his cock and put it on your rim, pushing himself in very slowly.

“Fuck yeah, take it in the ass,” he gasped at the warmth and tightness. All of your holes were so perfect for his cock. He’s truly never felt anything better than you.

“Deeper,” you weren’t even taking a second to fully adjust before asking for more.

He slammed his hips forward, pushing it all in one go, his hands now on your shoulders, thrusting into you deeply. “Ahh shit, take it, take it take this fucking dick,” he groans, going absolutely feral. The dimples in your ass had him mesmerized, and the way it jiggled every time he bottomed out was a fucking sight to behold.

“Oh yes fuck” you mewl, drooling onto the sheets and letting him have you for both your guy's pleasure. Your pussy was still leaking nonstop, dripping on the sheets, little droplets of arousal splashing out with every slam of his hips. He reached his hand under you, swiping it up and sucking it off his fingers, moaning at the taste, and his dick started to twitch.

Sweat was running down his entire body. His breath was uneven, but he kept thrusting just to hear you cry and moan for more, begging for him and only him. “Yeah, that’s right, moan my name, Mommy. Who’s fucking you this good?”

“Heeseung,” you croak out.

“Whose got this pussy dripping?” He digs his fingers into your hip, marking your skin.

“Heeseung!” You cry out when he goes impossibly deep, and his balls start smacking against your slick opening.

“Who’s gonna fill you with cum?” He groans deeply, feeling you clench even harder around his cream-covered base.

“You heeseung just you only you fuck please cum in my ass fill me with your cum” you beg deliriously. The pleasure he was giving to you was mind-altering.

“Gonna cum in your ass, beautiful” he placed his hand between your legs rubbing your swollen clit into oblivion, ripping your first orgasm out of you in no time. 

“Heeseung!” You shook so hard the only thing keeping you up was his grip on your waist as he kept rubbing and rubbing your sensitive clit till you came again. “Cumming heeseung, I’m cumming again.” 

“Cum for me, Mommy, that’s it, that’s it gonna fill this tight little ass with my cum fuck” he moaned loudly as his hips started moving sporadically, thrusting over and over again until he came undone in your ass filling it up with rope after rope of his hot gooey cum. “Yes, yes fuck yes,” he whimpers, slowing his pace and riding out his high spurt after spurt of cum flooding your gaping hole. “Feels so good,” he breathes out, feeling dizzy as he throbs continuously in your hole, giving you every single last drop of his warm cum. 

He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily as rolls his hips a little more, working you both through your orgasms. “Hmm, Seung.” You hum in delight as he rests his head beside yours, kissing and licking your cheek until his hips come to a stop.

“Was that good?” He asked tiredly, and you couldn’t even believe he thought he had to ask that you were literally soaked in your arousal and his cum trembling in the aftermath of all the pleasure he gave to you.

Of course, it was good.

“So good, seungie,” he hums, satisfied with your answer.

“I promised I would fuck you good,” he chuckled, kissing your earlobe, and despite his legs feeling numb, he got off of you, pulling out and getting off the bed to gather his clothes.

You laid there lifelessly, too worn out to even move cause that’s just how good he fucked you. “You want me to clean you up a bit?” He offered while pulling the sheets over your spent body.

“No, my husband will be home soon, so it’d probably be best if you leave,” you tell him with your eyes already closed. 

“O-oh,” he nodded to himself and got dressed. “Sleep in tomorrow, yeah?” 

You hum in agreement and open your eyes even though you could feel them starting to close again. “Goodnight, seungie,” you tell him with a tired smile.

“Goodnight, Mommy,” he winks and exits your bedroom quietly.

After going to his room, he lies in bed, smiling to himself now that his imagination has become a reality.

Too bad he couldn’t have you like that every night, but he’d take what he could get, even if it was only one time.

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Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback🩵

[pseudowho]

Behind the Wall

Who was this stressed, suited man...and how could you love him so easily?

A Higuruma Hiromi glory-hole story.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, feral smut and falling in love with a stranger.

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You knew him only as the man in the black and white suit. You had only seen the briefest glimpse of his clothes through your glory hole, after all.

"I don't normally-- I've never done this before...not that kind of guy--" he apologised, on the other side of the wall. His voice was smooth, deep and kind. You felt a little bubble of affection in your belly already.

"...well...I'm not that kind of girl," you teased, peeking a single come hither beckoning finger out of the glory hole, inviting him to your mouth, "...but something's got to pay the bills."

You heard the man's breath hitch, a shudder. You heard him unzip himself, and you settled on your knees, wiggling in anticipation. Waiting for a job to come up in a legal office was long...and while this wasn't the best use of your Law degree, you couldn't help but feel the thrill of doing something so sordid.

A cock, only half-hard and uncertain, but still so long, thick and pink-tipped beneath his silky foreskin, was eased gently through the hole. His voice sounded worried for you on the other side, and you pressed your fingers over your mouth, suppressing a smile.

"I'm...I'm not sure-- are you...are you sure?" The man in the suit stuttered. You leaned forwards, ghosting your lips over his cockhead, and the man gasped and moaned, a little trickle of salty pre-cum wetting your lips;

"Shhhh...you sound stressed," you cooed, "and I enjoy this, too. So let's have some fun." You held his length in your hand, and were satisfied to hear him whine and tremble, the dull knock of his hands and a knee pressing against the other wall. His cock swelled in your hand, twitching, and you rolled your thumb over his wet cockhead beneath the stretching hood of his foreskin.

"--so-- so stressed," he whined, pleading and begging you, "...you don't even... don't even know how bad...how bad my week has been..." His moans fractured as you began to pump his cock with your hand, from ball to tip, and he rutted forwards into your fist, "...haven't cum...can't remember the last time...so long...haaaah fuck, perfect, pleasepleaseplease, feels so good..."

"Yeah?" You whispered, bottom lip between your teeth, eyes closed as you drank down his little moans and gasps, purring at him, "Does that feel good? You sound desperate, baby. I bet you work so hard."

He whimpered into the affection; "--g-god yeah...feels amazing...your hand, fuck-- work so hard, s--so so hard...not got...don't have...have anyone, shit-- ohhhh-hhhhh--hh not gonna...not gonna last..."

You felt his cum-tight balls as you reached through, pulling them gently through the hole to massage them at the base of his cock. Your man cried out, all strained whimpers and cursing, and you heard his fingernails scrape against the other side of the wall; "Tell me what you want, beautiful stressed boy...how can I help you?"

"--spit--spit on my cock pleasepleaseplease in your mouth, pl--" He broke off into delirious shudders to feel your hot little mouth slick tightly around his cockhead, squeezing your lips into a tight ring, and using them to push his foreskin down as you sucked him into your mouth. With your tongue cupping his length while you sucked, bobbing your mouth around him, smooth and tasting his little spurts of pre-cum, his moans shot straight through you.

You hadn't felt as aroused as this, pleasuring a client before, but something about his frantic, begging desperation set your clit throbbing. Your hand drifted lazily between your legs, slipping between your glossy wet folds, rolling your clit under two fingers. You moaned around his length, and he cried out, cock throbbing, close to the edge.

Pulling your mouth back, and jacking off his red, aching cock with your spit and fist, you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear; "You sound so pretty, you've even got me touching myself--"

That was the last straw; your man in the rumpled suit came with a bark, sandy curses and whimpers. You took him back into your mouth, feeling heavy pulses of seed spilling out onto your tongue, flooding your mouth-- it obviously had been a long time for him.

"--arrrrghh god yes, shit, thank you-- so perfect, fuck, thank you-- oh ffff--ffuuuck in your mouth too...you're too good-- don't deserve-- dont deserve you--...haaaah...ahhhhh..."

You heard the wall tremble as your man came down from his high. His ears ringing, he vaguely heard your swallow. A weak whimper left him, and you giggled as another spurt of cum dampened your lips. You licked him clean, leaving him shivering with overstimulation, before placing a sweet little kiss to his cockhead.

"...come see me again?"

"F-fuck yes, absolutely-- absolutely."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You had barely worked that week, lost in job-hunting, coming up empty-handed at every turn. It was five days before you made it back to the glory hole, happily receiving a generous payment, and wondering vaguely about your stressed, lonely man in the rumpled suit. You settled in your booth; it took him just a few minutes to find you.

"...is it...is it you?" He asked tentatively. You grinned, nudging yourself forwards on your knees, just out of eyesight behind the gloryhole. You blushed, shaking yourself off as being ridiculous.

"...do you mean me?" You offered. You heard his sigh of delight. He laughed, a deep, rich sound.

"I worried I'd scared you away," he teased. You heard him start to unzip himself, before hesitating, "Uhm...can we...?"

"Quick," you whispered conspiratorially, "put something in my mouth before I start talking at you." He laughed again, a sound that sent flutters of butterflies through your tummy. His cock, already rock-hard and glistening at the tip, was pressed through the hole. You reached through to cup his balls, softly bringing them through. He shuddered; he had clearly been hoping you'd cup his sensitive balls for him again.

"You like it when I do this...?" You teased, rolling his heavy balls in one palm. Hearing him groan, and sigh with relief into your touch, you leaned your cheek against the wall, admiring the weight of him in your hand as you massaged him.

"...I...never knew I did, but...you're so good at it...shit, feel like I could cum-- cum just from that--"

"Hush," you mocked him, just to hear his shaking laugh again, "you deserve so much more than that." Taking his cock into your mouth, determined to take him into your throat this time, you revelled in the dulcet tones of him falling apart inside your hot little mouth again. You swirled your tongue around his cockhead, swiping into his leaking slit, suckling, examining, measuring him with your throat.

Your stressed man bucked involuntarily to feel his blunt cockhead stroke the back of your throat, and you gagged, swallowing around him. He wasn't able to last long, feeling the sides of your throat stretch around his leaking cock.

"--haaa--aaahhhhh fuck'msosorry...feel s'good...like this...haaahh fuckkkk....do you...do you like to read?"

Your throat convulsed around his length, sputtering as you burst into laughter. Your rumpled man convulsed too, swearing and stuttering as his orgasm hit him like a bus. You tried to catch his cum in your hand and mouth, but knelt, still laughing, his seed dripping down your cheeks as he groaned, bucking forwards, cock bounding thick spatters of seed onto you.

"...do I like to read?" You laughed, masturbating him to bring him down from his high. He whimpered into your wall again, a sound which was gradually conditioning you, into pussy-aching wetness.

"...I'm sorry, I...I just...fucking ignore me, I'm an idiot, I just..."

You laughed again, the twinkling sound shooting through him like daggers.

"...just...wanted to get to know you," he mumbled, and you could hear the mortified little pout through the wall.

You couldn't wait to see your rumpled man again. You didn't know how you resisted looking through the hole at him as he walked away. You called after him, and heard his footsteps hesitate for a moment, before he snorted with mirth.

"I love to read!"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I want...to try something different this time. Please."

Your rumpled man sounded hoarse. His voice was tight, clipped. You could feel the stress pounding off him in waves, through your little window to him.

"...what would you like?" You answered, as if to a lover, not a client.

"Can you...can you come to the other window, instead?"

Ah...the gloryhole for fucking. A little flat bench where your ass, pussy and legs could lay, your body separated by a wall and curtain. Your eyelids fluttered to imagine the cock you knew well by now, stretching your pussy open, your mystery man clutching your thighs as he fucked into you. You imagined those desperate whimpers and moans for your cunt, instead of your mouth, and it made you throb.

"I mean...I don't normally..." you hesitated, feeling a twang of regret to disappoint him.

"No," he urged, sounding so fractious and desperate, "not that. I promise, not that. You...another time. Another way. I want...want to eat you out. Please."

You faltered again, arguing with him; "This is meant to be about you, not me, I'll take care of you--"

"Trust me," he begged, his palms flat on the wall now, "...this...this is what I need. I mean it. Please. Please."

God knew you couldn't resist his begging. You felt a trickle of arousal seep out of you, dampening your panties. The thought of that groaning mouth around your clit set you on fire.

"Well...alright then. If you insist." You moved round to the next window, and heard him follow, pacing and predatory. You shimmied out of your panties, swallowing thickly before you crept your ass and legs out of the window, down the table. When you settled, legs open, feeling so exposed, his palms held your thighs. You heard him curse under his breath.

"Fuck...you're beautiful." Your man said it so sincerely, in that lusty-low voice, that you blushed, your hands over your face as you lay on your back. You felt your thighs confidently lifted, draped over strong, broad shoulders. His voice was deep, hungry.

"...hope you've got something to hold onto, back there, my love."

Fuck, how you saw stars. You cried out in genuine bliss as he sunk his face between your folds. You tried climbing up desperately on your elbows to see him, but were woefully obscured by a black curtain. You could feel a powerful, prominent nose bridge nuzzling across your clit, that clever tongue plunging into your hole.

Those familiar groans, husky whispers and moans, were now muffled by your pussy. Your rumpled man was drinking the life out of you, making you twist and writhe, sucking your clit into his mouth with such force that you instinctively shied away up the couch. He gripped your thighs, yanking them back over his shoulders as you squeaked. He growled, sinking his prominent front teeth into the soft inner squish of your thighs.

"No. Get back here so I can fuck you with my mouth." You sobbed against the pleasure, your toes curling against the backs of his shoulders. Crying out as he shook his head from side-to-side with a rusty growl, you twitched and jerked, having never felt yourself dragged to orgasm so forcefully.

"Oh my fuc--fucking god, you're so good at that-- oh fuck don't stop-- don't stop don'tstopdon'tstoppleasepleaseplease--"

You didn't need to beg to make him continue. Already feeling on the edge of a savage high, you felt three long fingers, bunched together and lubricated with his own spit, plunge into your hole. A high, keening cry left you, and he found your soft spot immediately, fucking his fingertips against your belly.

"--thassit--fucking amazing...beautiful girl, c'mon...deserve the best, shit--"

One final suck of your clit into his mouth had you rolling over the edge. Silence rang from the other active booths around you, the clients and girls listening in awe as you moaned and whimpered your way through the most spectacular orgasm you'd ever felt. Your hands plunged past the curtain into his hair, tugging on it, thick and silky between your fingers.

Your rumpled man was groaning, whimpering, those familiar sounds you knew he only made when he came. Ths silence rang loudly through the booths, as you both came down from your highs.

One little voice from somewhere across the room; "...fucking hell." A few smattered laughs, and the slow sounds of others continuing their work of mouths and hands. You were dazed, lost on cloud nine, panting. Your hands came back to you, some inky black strands caught between your fingers. That familiar voice between your legs, so much less tense now.

"...so, uh...reckon I could get a job here? Do I pass the interview?"

You couldn't help how you laughed.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"...have you...do you see anyone else...apart from me?"

Why did you feel so guilty?

"I...I do, yeah. No regulars though. And nobody I actually enjoy, like...like you." It was true. Your goofy, stressed, rumpled man had ruined you for anyone else. You felt a jealous prickle from him on the other side of the wall.

"...I....do you have to keep doing this?" He pleaded with you.

"...well...can't find any legal secretary jobs, so--"

"Excuse me?"

You faltered. Had you said something wrong? You began to repeat yourself, but he interrupted you.

"All this time...I'm a-- I'm a lawyer," he choked out, and you ran cold, stunned. You laughed nervously.

"...so that's why you're so stressed." He laughed with you, swearing quietly to himself.

"I'm sure..." he offered, sly and sincere, "...I'm sure we could do with another legal secretary."

You knelt, stunned, your mouth dry and heart pounding in anticipation. You heard him speak again.

"Listen... how about you come out here, and say hello properly...and I take you out for dinner? No strings, no expectations, just...dinner."

You were silent. He begged.

"Please...I've got to see you. Please."

Trembling, pulling your clothes on, you acquiesced. Before stepping out from behind the back curtain, your shaking voice joked; "Well, you asked for it...drumroll please."

You laughed to hear him patter two hands rapidly on the wall. You stepped out.

Tall. Black-haired. Hooked-nosed. Hangdog-eyed. And, staring into you, as if you were a goddess made flesh. You had never felt so beautiful. He turned, and blushed, his hands cupping his mouth and nose as he looked towards the ceiling. He groaned, mortified at his past behaviour.

"...you never told me you were so lovely."

[minkieater]

luck → jyh 🂡

“if you are unsure on who is going to win, always bet on yunho.”

p. jeong yunho x fem!reader g. borderline yandere!yunho, non idol au w. alcohol consumption, smut minors dni PLS, cheating, stalking, yunho's fucking crazy wc. 7.7k

♫ —vermillion, slipknot “my dahlia bathed in possession, she is home to me.” 

his right hand completely enveloped two dainty, fragile wrists connected to two perfectly manicured hands, pinned above a very beautiful fucked out face. the french tips stared back at him as he lost himself fully, buried deep inside someone he most certainly should not of been. as he reaches the hilt of his pleasure, he lets it rush through him, consume him for that stolen moment of freedom before it drags him down all the same. 

he retracts his hand as he pulls out, taking a breath, but no time to waste, he has someone waiting at home for him, after all.

 the sweat is wiped off his forehead and his pants are zipped up before she could come down herself. it never really bothered him much, the cheating thing, but then again, he never really thought twice about it. he’s always done what he’s wanted, he’s never had any reason not to. 

he knows if she found out it’d be the end of their picture perfect relationship, and as inconvenient that situation would be, it makes the doing all the much more exhilarating. 

his heart is never fuller than when he’s with her, that pretty little thing. standing at a petite five foot something, her head reaches just the tip of his shoulder. it makes him feel powerful with his over six foot build, towering over her, having to bend at the hips to steal a quick kiss on her always glossed lips. 

she was perfect to him, perfect for him, but yet he couldn’t let go of sinking himself into anyone that looked at him with a twinkle in their eye. she’s smart, funny, thoughtful, attentive, and overall just sweet. but he loved the attention, loved the adoration, he loved to feel loved. wanted, lusted, appreciated — sometimes one person’s captivation just isn’t enough. it was never enough for yunho. 

he had the same routine whenever he did it, his little addiction: find his toy for the night, leave the bar, have a quick fuck, hurry back to the bar, cover his tracks, get home. 

even the nights she was at the bar he’d sometimes make it work, the logistics of it are all his genius, but he’d do it and he’d do it well — she would never question a thing. no one got his number, no one got his full name if they didn’t already know it, and no one expected to see jeong yunho again after that one quick half an hour, if that, spent with him. somehow, all the odds were forever in his favor.

that was, of course, until he met you. 

everything he thought he knew about his relationship, everything he thought he felt about his sweet little girlfriend, this perfect system that he’d created for himself, all of that went straight in the shitter the second you batted your eyelashes at him the first time. 

she was at home, sleeping soundly, which he was sure of because she had a shift early the next morning, he was out with a few of his friends after a long night of studying. she never waited up for him, never questioned who he was out with, she had full and utter faith in him. which, essentially, was her downfall. 

four beers and two shots deep, his waist was bent over the bar for yet another beer, no longer seated on the stool at the table with his friends. across the bar, he saw you, and the room went silent for a moment. beautiful face, perfect build, everything he looked for in a woman. he knew exactly who his target was tonight, and you knew it, too. but you didn’t find that out until later. 

you were preoccupied, talking to one of his friends, actually. you had full intentions of trying to take that husky, tall, blonde haired man home with you that night, yunho could read it all over your face. that couldn’t happen, that won’t happen. 

mingi would understand, right? he needed mingi to understand. he wanted you. he needed you. 

he waited until he got his beer, he even took notice of the bottle in your grasp and bought you another, too. he made his way around the bar, a predator stalking his prey, strides fluid and smooth like a snake preparing to attack. 

“you do know that you’re not supposed to take drinks from strangers, right?” you look to him with an eyebrow raised, and he knew then and there he was fucked. glossy lips, hair done to perfection, dress perfectly clinging to your curves — he wished he could cut straight to the point, snap his fingers and he could skip the build up and sheer work it took to get you where he wanted you. 

“who said we were strangers?” the same eyebrow lifts on his own face, smirk taking a now permanent seat on his lips, clinking his beer with yours in cheers. fortunately for him, game was his forte, mingi had to know he was a goner already. 

“i guess we don’t have to be,” you finished off your previous beer at the same time he did, trading it for the new one he brought, “this is the yunho you mentioned, huh, mingi?” 

“yeah, yeah, this is yunho,” mingi nods and his cheeks flush, out of embarrassment or annoyance, yunho wasn’t sure. he wished he felt worse for completely dogging his friend’s play, but when it comes to this, came to you, yunho physically could not hold himself back. 

“and who are you? since you know everything about me already,” that cocky smirk won't leave his face, and you’re not hiding that it’s driving you insane. good, just how he wants you. curious, interested, maybe even craving. easy. 

you introduce yourself, shifting your weight from one heeled foot to the other, “dunno everything about you, but can’t say i wouldn’t like to find out more.” 

check mate. mingi takes this as his cue to turn on his heel, bidding both of you goodnight. yunho would have to call him tomorrow, give him a proper apology. 

an hour later he had you on your back at a nearby motel, barreling inside of you like it was the last thing he’d ever do. when he gets into these situations, he’s never one to play nice, never sticks around, a big hit it and quit it type of guy, but what can he say? he’s got a beautiful woman waiting for him at home. 

but that night … that night he had the most intriguing woman he’d ever encountered beneath him. he even made you cum first, not something he usually tries to do, never a goal for each person on his list despite not a single one leaving his presence unsatisfied. seeing you across the bar was the prologue to the novel you were about to write together, sweat and spit the pen and paper. 

he couldn’t leave you that night. he knew he should’ve went home to her, he knew he should’ve gotten your last name, he knew he should’ve at least used a condom. but he didn’t. 

the first time he saw you, he knew he should’ve stayed the fuck away, knew he should’ve kept his routine consistent, he knew you’d be the one to send his head into a spiral. jeong yunho knew a lot of things, he’s a smart guy, but greed sits at the top of the list of his flaws, and you brought out the worst in him. 

maybe he needed a little bit of humbling, a wake up call of sorts, but the last thing he expected was waking up to the bed empty, a ghost of your figure laying next to him, the sweet smell of your perfume and sweat lingering in the cheap cotton. 

the worst of it all, he hasn’t seen you since. 

which brings him to two weeks later, where he emptied himself in yet another woman who looks like she could be your distant cousin, maybe a good friend that ever so slightly resembles you. maybe he’s just been looking for you in every single cervix he’s touched since that night. 

on the ride home, his brain is elsewhere, as it’s been after every single hook up he’s had since you. when he gets home and his pretty little girlfriend is waiting for him, he can’t bring himself to question why she’s awake, not when she’s pecking kisses all over his face, telling him how much she’s missed him. completely oblivious, a small part of him thinks she’s fucking ignorant for it. 

he knows what’s to come. if he keeps going down this road it’s only a matter of time before his feelings toward her turn resentful, he gets meaner, she gets insecure, he gets aggravated. he can see it play out in his mind, yet he’s indifferent. with her, without her, he doesn’t care. all he wants is to see you again.

if he could, he’d have no need for the girlfriend that waits up for him after the bar. no requisite for her making his lunches, washing his hair, doing his laundry, unzipping his pants after a stressful day. yunho wishes he could love his girlfriend the way he always had, but the truth is, the first time you sunk your teeth into him ruined any future he had with her. 

a month later, he saw your friend again. the one from that night who stood by, observing, looking through yunho like he was transparent, naked to the human eye. across that same bar, he couldn’t contain his surprise, couldn’t stop himself from widening his eyes or dropping his jaw. an invitation, an opportunity, an answer for his questions, first being where the hell have you been? when will he see you again? did you mention anything about him? did you at least admit he was a good fuck? he’s bursting at the seams with impatience, heart pounding so hard against his broad chest he could hear it. 

she didn’t give him much, not that he went about it in an inconspicuous way. pestering her with questions, pushing for answers, trying his best to seem interested but not flat out creepy. it didn’t work very well. he couldn’t contain his excitement, his urgency, his yearning, she could see straight through him once again. he was off his game. 

what she did give him was your last name, a common last name which was surprisingly a nickname for you used more often than not. she didn’t even notice the reveal of this key piece of information, not even when the wicked smile threatened to crack his best innocent facade. 

he didn’t sleep with anyone that night, didn’t look for you in any women at that dingy bar. he did go home and sleep with his pretty little girlfriend, who once again overlooked the smell of infidelity and heineken oozing from his skin, as she always does. when her eyes closed and her breaths turned rhythmic and slow, he pulled out his phone, deciding to do his research in the dead of night. 

there were plenty of people with your first and last name, but there was only one you. he found you with ease, and your page takes him by surprise. you post everything. it tells him so much, too much, and gives plenty of ammunition for his right hand that couldn’t resist the ache in his dick. by the point of post nut clarity, he’s cooking up an idea, which turns to an objective, a plan. he fell asleep with a smile on his face and a sense of urgency he couldn’t wait to fulfill. 

he waits until the next weekend, and not patiently. he’s checking your instagram every day, watching your stories off of a burner account, he nearly starts a list in his notes of places you frequent, your orders from coffee shops, things you like. he’d have to tell you to stop making it so easy to know you, understand you, to find you. 

it’s clear you’re a free spirit, not a thought in your brain that someone is watching you, examining you, waiting for you. but he wants you this way, oblivious, unsuspecting, surprised when he shows up to your place of work. maybe you’re used to the attention, yunho thinks, you’re beautiful and you definitely know it, too. as much as he has the urge to hide you, keep you from desiring eyes, he’s proud, in a way, that you can show yourself off so openly. you won’t hide yourself the way his girlfriend does, you didn’t shy off from him for a moment in those four hours he spent with you six weeks ago. 

his friends are surprised that he wants to go anywhere besides his favorite dingy bar in the middle of manhattan, especially with the luxury of a VIP section and bottle service, but he doesn’t kiss and tell. he quickly blamed the hastily prepared outing on his friend’s internship acceptance when his friends questioned the occasion, he’d rather them be unaware. especially with his girlfriend present, much to his dismay. he let them think he’s just a good friend, despite his intentions being more than culpable. the less they know, the better, even though a couple of them definitely have an idea — he couldn’t hide it from everyone. 

when they finally made it to the line outside of the nightclub, a smaller group of six, muffled pounds of the heavy bass from inside only increased the sweat on yunho’s palms. he knew you were inside, in a tight little bodysuit, sparkly tights and a pair of heels on your feet. he wished he could blame the adrenaline as his pants grew tighter, not on the fact that you were inside, not knowing he gathered a whole group of people and improvised an entire celebration just to see your face again. 

he immediately skipped the line, telling the bouncer his last name, and got the group inside with ease. different hues of purples and greens and blues reflected the ceilings, the walls, the tables, the floor. if he wasn’t so one-track minded he’d be overstimulated. he was brought to the section with his friends following closely behind, he forced the adrenaline to leave his face, his body, his hands. his scheme was set in motion, he needed to lock in, let go of any emotion that might incriminate him, make him seem suspicious. 

he ordered bottles, vodka, tequila and whiskey, three chances for you to make your way around to his section, maybe carrying a sign or carrying a bottle or simply clapping and cheering with your coworkers. when he met you, he didn’t expect you to be a bottle girl at a night club, but he supposed that explains why you haven’t been back to his favorite bar. he assumed you were a full time student, but if he had to guess, maybe a retail employee or a coffee shop barista, something simple, just to get the bills paid so you can live as freely as you want. he was thoroughly mistaken, yet he couldn’t complain. 

especially not when you made your way over to the table, bucket of ice and mixers in your hands, a huge smile on your face. he knew exactly what you’d be wearing: a tiny little black bodysuit that left nothing to the imagination, sparkling tights that mirrored the strobe lights so perfectly, a pair of heels so high he wondered how you were walking so smoothly. that wicked smile appeared on his lips again, the pride of victory flowing through his veins, despite him willing away any emotion reflecting on his face. he should’ve known his body wouldn’t listen to him when it came to you, but his plan had worked, you’re here, bringing juices and sodas and not helping his dick that refuses to soften in his jeans.

he catches your eye and keeps it as you bent forward, setting down the bucket on the table, someone else putting down the bottles beside it. yunho couldn’t be bothered to notice anyone else, not when you keep eye contact as the little show you put on ends, definitely not when you stare over your shoulder as you and your crowd go back to wherever you came from. 

as you get back behind the bar, a rush of adrenaline racks through you, you could feel the buzz all the way in your fingertips and toes. he’s here, he’s here, he’s here. 

you immediately run to the bathroom, checking your makeup, adjusting yourself in your outfit. he was the last person you’d expect to see tonight, you’ve never seen him here before, haven’t seen him at all since that perfect night you spent together. the past six weeks you couldn’t get him out of your mind, couldn’t stop thinking about his long fingers, long legs, he’s long everywhere. you’d never had a better one night stand — you cursed yourself every day since leaving before he woke up, not leaving him with at least your phone number. but a saturday night spent in a hotel, blocks down from that dingy fucking bar, he definitely didn’t want anything more from you than a quick fuck, never to hear from you again. you could be okay with that, you needed to be okay with that.

“boo, could you grab me a bottle of casamigos from the back?” the main bartender for the night asks as you walk out of the employee bathroom, frantically looking for someone to help her out. 

you pause for a moment, her question ripping you out of your daydream and you nod in response. you hurry to the back, grab a bottle, and make your way out to the bar. 

the spotlight from the dance floor might as well of shone directly on him as he stood at the bar, taller than everyone else, a sore thumb despite his dark clothes. you took a breath, a smile on your face, excitement flooding you. 

“hello there, stranger,” you say as you drop the bottle on the shelf then turn to him, “you guys went through three bottles that quick?” 

he shakes his head, “i like to take my time, you know that.”

“i know that very well, spine breaker,” you plant your palms against the bar, shifting your weight to one foot. behind the bar was slightly staged, that in combination with the heels, yunho’s height didn’t seem as intimidating. 

amusement laced his features, “then why’d you leave? i would’ve taken even longer in the morning,” he quirks a brow and your mouth forms a small ‘o’, that was the last thing that you expected out of his mouth. 

you shrug casually, not believing the words out of his mouth, “that holiday inn wasn’t very… enticing. if you were trying to romance me you should’ve at least taken me to a marriott.” 

this makes a chuckle escape his lips, “my bad, just wanted to get you under me as quickly as possible.” 

an ah leaves your lips with a nod, “which you did, so why are you standing at my bar? can i get you something?” you couldn’t exactly place why your tone turned irritated, you might’ve been hoping for a little more than that. 

“another night with you,” the corner of his lips pull up, a smirk appearing on his face, that same fucking smirk that pulled you under him in the first place. 

a laugh barrels out of your mouth before you can stop it, “go back to your little friends and get away from my bar unless you’re buying me a shot, yunho.” 

your words are leaving your mouth before you can think about them, your mouth moving faster than your brain. the last thing you want is for him to leave, walk away, forget about you. you wanted the same thing he did, even if you wanted more. 

he leans in closer and you fight the urge to step back, his tight jaw and lowered eyes daring you. you don’t give in.

“oh? was that a no?” his expression doesn’t change despite his playful words, “what a shame. i’ll meet you after your shift is over.” 

he turns to walk away and you can feel the heat in your cheeks. you call after him and he turns with a single eyebrow raised, “meet me where?”

“wherever the closest marriott is,” his playful smile returned to his lips, the same one you met him with. it excited you and made you nervous, you weren’t used to meeting hookups at hotels. 

their apartments, whether they live alone or with roommates, yes, but never hotels. it made you feel like a hooker first, and that’s usually a red flag and means someone is married, or worse, still lives with their parents. living in such a huge, expensive city, a hotel for a night isn’t cheap at all whatsoever. you decide not to think about it too much, let yourself bask in the excitement of being with him, and look forward to an entire night dedicated to letting off some steam. 

“who was that?” yunho’s girlfriend asks when he slides into the booth next to her, petting his bicep. her question is full of innocence, her eyes still bright, slightly glazed over with need, definitely from the one or two shots she took in his absence. 

“mingi’s favorite fling at the moment,” he gives her a tight lipped smile and kisses her head, pulling her closer to his side. mingi was always the easiest out, she bought it every damn time. 

the rest of the night he sat with his cute little girlfriend on the booth wrapped around the table, he didn’t see you again. he was fighting to keep his excitement to himself the longer he got away with it — not just his girlfriend seeing you, but you seeing his girlfriend, who wound up basically on his lap the more she drank. his friends drank and danced, the six of them together finished all three bottles, a few of them even moved out to the dance floor instead of their private section. as much as yunho hated places like this, he loved to be with his friends, see them happy, spend time with them in such a carefree environment. 

when it came up on midnight, yunho decided it’d be best to head home, taking his girlfriend with him. she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, which she usually did after a good fuck. after some drinks in her, he knew she was out for the night, she’d sleep through a tornado. not that there would be one in new york city. 

he even had time to shower before he headed out for the night, literally choosing your preferred hotel closest to the club. he got a room and headed over to the bar, having another drink or two before they shut it down for the night. he waited past two, three…

it was 3:45 and he started to lose hope. he realized you’d never even said yes — were you even going to show? did you forget in the craziness of your shift? what time did the club even close? when did you usually get home? these kinds of hours really mess with someone’s sleep schedule. 

every few minutes he’d glance at the glass doors, hoping and praying you’d walk inside. 

ten minutes past 4, you finally did walk through the revolving entrance, and relief rushed through him. ugg slippers, sweatpants, a hoodie and your hair tied up, all he could think is how excited he was to take it all off of you. his skin was burning with impatience, he almost leapt off his seat. 

“i was starting to think you forgot about me,” he starts, a curated smile placed on his cheeks as he slips from the faux leather chair. 

“a part of me didn’t think you were serious,” you respond in the same tone, coming to a still in the middle of the lobby. 

he couldn’t place the emotion in your eyes, you looked unsure, nervous even, from across the lobby. he made it to you in two quick strides, towering over your small frame. 

“yet you still showed up,” he wore the same face from earlier when he stared you down over the bar, eyes low, hungry. he could smell you, nearly taste you on his tongue. you still had your makeup on and he immediately knows there’s no way you had time to wash up, for some reason it made his pants tighter. 

“here i am,” you shrug, picking at your sleeve. you looked so small, your cocky demeanor from earlier far gone, replaced by uneasiness, an emotion he hasn’t seen on you yet. it fed his own power trip, in combination with his figure that completely enveloped your own, he felt on top of the world. like he owned you already. 

he huffed out a small let’s go and grabbed your dainty hand that peeked out of your sleeve, guiding you to the elevator, up to the room. 

“this is nice,” you compliment the suite, blacks and grays and wood accents filling the space. 

“everything you dreamed of?” he sits down on the bed, legs spread, hands behind him. 

“i wouldn’t say that,” a small smile appears on your face as you tuck a stray hair behind your ear, standing awkwardly in front of him. 

“no? after i got exactly what you asked for,” yunho slips a tsk out, tilting his head to the side and his chin up, staring you down from under his eyebrows. 

your giggle is nervous, “that’s not what i meant. i’m just wondering why we’re at a hotel,” your curiosity got the best of you, you physically couldn’t hold the question back, unable to shake the feeling of something being off.

“do you want me to be honest, or lie?” he asks, his voice full of amusement. the question takes you by surprise and you have to think about it for a second, there’s layers to that ask. layers you don’t know if you want to peel, something about his tone makes you not want to know the truth. 

“lie,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and a shiver crawls up your spine. that off feeling must’ve been your gut, fully awake now, talking to you, screaming at you, saying you shouldn’t be here. 

“i live with three guys, don’t wanna keep them up all night,” he licks his lips, the lie so evidently fucking clear on his tongue, the lie you asked for. the lie you needed to go through with this despite your gut begging you otherwise. 

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “that’s nice of you.” 

he shrugs, pulling his hands into his lap, slouching forward ever so slightly, making himself smaller. his body language is intentional, he could read it all over you that you didn’t need to be intimidated, you need to be comforted. feel at ease, feel the want, feel that same primal fucking hunger that was beginning to consume him. 

“i’m a nice guy,” his face contorts, an easygoing smile on his lips instead of that dangerous smirk, “come here, stranger.” 

he uses the same word on you that you used earlier and it evokes a smile from you, a genuine smile, he’s grateful that’s all it takes to crack you open. he didn’t have it in him to try anymore. 

as you take two steps forward he leans back, displaying his lap for you to sit. you wrap around him, your knees hugging his hips, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

“there she is,” his voice is sweet and soft, laced with desire as he looks up to you, shifting himself under you, “been so long.”

you whimper out his name, immediately feeling him press up into you, your eyebrows furrowing. you wanted to be okay with this, wanted to press your gut feeling down, but you couldn’t. 

he mumbled out a hm? as he pressed close mouthed kisses to your jaw, his brain already miles ahead of you. you wanted to say fuck your curiosity, fuck the truth, fuck whatever he’s hiding, but it’s eating at you. you can’t relax in his touch the way you’re desperate to. 

“wan’ you to be honest now,” it was half a moan when it exited your lips, and yunho didn’t miss a beat. 

“no you don’t,” he spits out too fast, the truth keeping itself hidden somewhere beneath his heavy chestnut bangs. his hands traveled up your back, beneath your hoodie, “i missed you, wanna taste you.” 

as his tongue makes contact with the column of your neck you let out a hiss, his touch feeling like electricity, sending your brain elsewhere. 

he could tell. he could read it all over you.

he could feel the stiffness, the discomfort that touched every bone in your body, he was over it. how did he get here? he just wanted to see you again. he shouldn’t of answered that question the way he did and he knows it, but he also is willing to bet his life on the fact that you’ll fold. he can’t find a single scenario where you leave him, all alone in this suite, spending the night by yourself elsewhere. 

he thinks on it for a moment, an evil thought crossing his mind for a second, that one second easily spinning him into a spiral. did you have something else lined up? is that why you wanted to leave so bad? you were seeing someone else after him? an emotion he can’t explain is simmering inside him, something between rage and hurt and the urge to prove himself. he’ll show you why you missed him, why you needed him, why no one else will ever fuck you the way he can. 

he attacks your neck instead, sucking harshly and groping your ass under your sweatpants, making you jolt forward into his chest with a muddled moan. he chuckles in a low tone before picking you up and putting you on your back in one quick motion. you yelp at that, no doubt taking you by surprise, he can’t help but keep laughing. the laughter is dry, it’s knowing, it’s a little menacing, too. 

as he attached his lips onto yours, he can feel you physically melt into him. your body softens, that tension that once sat in your shoulders now gone, your fingers pulling into his hair. 

finally, he thinks. 

once again, jeong yunho’s winning streak continues, and he can’t help the prideful look as he looms over you. 

you audibly said fuck it. 

as long as his lips were on yours, his dick continued to press into your too layered core with experienced fingers touching every bit of your skin, you didn’t fucking care. you didn’t see a wedding ring and, shit, if he did still live with his parents, the hotel room was pretty nice. you could live with that. 

your body felt hot — too fucking hot. you had too many layers on, too much weight on top of you, impatience was crawling up your throat. 

“take this off,” you tugged at his shirt, mumbling between kisses, and he obliged. you took the moment of freedom to strip yourself of your hoodie, unclipping your bra with one hand. 

he watches in amusement, lips glossed over with your spit and a still growing tent in his jeans. you’re thirsty, you’re hungry, you’re itching for him. and he can read it all over you. 

“take it easy, we have all night, princess,” he comments, yet his pupils are blown and his hands immediately flocked to your chest, “such perfect fuckin’ tits.” 

“take it easy, my ass,” you laugh before he shuts you up quick, attaching a slick mouth to one of your nipples, making an involuntary gasp leave your lips. you arch your back and your head digs into the pillow, sizzling hot pleasure coming from every nerve ending, a moan leaving your lips as two fingers wrap around the other and pinch. 

“fuck,” you’re hissing out in pain and pleasure and he switches, soothing the sore one over with a soft tongue, rough fingertips tweaking the other. you buck your hips up and he chuckles into your chest, the vibrations against you only made you moan louder. 

he finally pulls away, looking down at you with hooded eyes that matched your own, paired with a snicker from your reactions, “you gonna survive me this time?” 

you smack his bicep with a laugh, “fuck you.” 

“patience, baby,” is all he responds as he reaches for the waistband of your sweatpants, pulling them down in one swift go. you feel the cool air hit you and you can feel yourself steaming, body too hot for the chill of the room that you didn’t notice until now. 

he peppers open mouthed kisses along your stomach, all wet and messy and hot. you whimpered, your hips bucking again at the stimulation, body craving more. muscle memory took the driver’s seat from the last time you slept with him, your body knew what was to come, and the anticipation was killing you. 

he spreads your legs, a strip of black lace standing between yunho and what he would choose as his last meal. he uses the pad of his thumb to rub you through your underwear, making quick circles across the bundle of nerves. his pressure was too light to get any real friction and you buck and twitch against his thumb, but he catches you before you can get any satisfaction against him. 

“yun, please,” you beg, chest growing hot. your knees are nearly touching the bed from your legs spread so wide, you didn’t have the energy to endure the teasing. 

“please what?” the corner of his mouth lifts, brown hooded eyes full of amusement. you whine, frustration getting the best of you, not a care for what you look or sound like. you needed friction, relief. 

“finger me, eat me out, i don’t care, please,” your words are rushed and breathy, audibly impatient. embarrassment is last on your list of worries right now. 

“yes ma’am,” he nods and pushes your underwear to the side, not even taking the time to fully take them off of you. you mentally thank him for it. 

he’s quick to spread your slick up your slit, letting out a pleased noise at how wet you are. you were wet the second he said the word marriott at the club, it’s been steadily accumulating since, you thought about him and what’s to come nonstop until you clocked out. he pushes a finger inside, hooking it upwards, pulling a guttural moan from inside you, ripping you out of your thoughts. 

your head shoots back into the bed, back arching, hips bucking into his hand for more. his other hand goes to grip onto your hip as you steadily rock against his finger, he’s amazed at how hungry you are for it, how shameless you could be for what you needed. he’s watching with wide eyes, not even pushing back into you, letting you guide yourself to pleasure against him. letting you use him. 

“almost forgot what a fucking slut you are,” his teeth are showing through his wide grin, eyes dark and glossed over. you’re a moaning mess, words already mushing together into something entirely unintelligible, grateful for some form of relief even though its nowhere near what you need from him. 

“only f’you,” you mumble out in between moans, eyes opening to see his gaze strictly focused on your cunt that’s swallowing his finger so greedily, “more, please?” 

“awh, you my nice girl tonight?” he finally meets your eyes, “whatever my girl wants.” 

he leans down and accompanies his finger with his mouth, immediately wrapping his lips around your clit. you yelped out, hands reaching out to tug at his hair, pulling him closer to your throbbing clit. he flattened his tongue against your folds and you started weeping, moans and words combining into a string of noises. 

he added another finger inside you and started at a brutal pace, tongue flicking at your clit at the same rhythm. his fingers curled with each thrust, looking for that sweet, spongy spot inside you. as your fingers tightened around his roots and a loud cry left your lips, he knew he found it. 

“taste so fucking good,” he said into you, not even bothering to look up at you. he was lost in your pretty pussy, the pussy he’s been dreaming about for weeks. the same pussy he’s been wishing for during sex with every other woman since you. now he has you under him, naked and screaming for him once again. yunho was overflowing with satisfaction and pride. 

satisfaction, pride and a lust so great, his cock began aching in his pants. he started grinding against the mattress mindlessly, in the same rhythm as he was using on your cunt, small moans and grunts leaving his lips just adding to your own pleasure. you could feel the familiar knot in your stomach tightening, building steadily. 

the same as him, you’d also been looking for another life-changing fuck since that night you spent together. all the worries you felt earlier were long gone, like they never happened in the first place. all that mattered was yunho and the impending orgasm he was giving you, this is all that was important to begin with. 

“close,” you moaned out, ���i’m sofuckingclose yunho don’t stop!” 

he let you have it, let it consume you. it nearly blinded you, your orgasm, your head dug so fucking deep into the mattress and your joints locked up so hard it had you seeing stars on the inside of your eyelids. he guided you through it, steadily pumped his fingers and kept his pattern on your clit until you were thrashing against him, hands pulling up on his hair to get him off of you. 

he had half a mind to keep going, pleasure you through the overstimulation, he needed to see you cum again. with your eyes rolled into the back of your head, back arched up and lethal noises leaving your lips… he could watch it on repeat for days, months, years. it’s his new favorite movie. he let you come down, tore his lips off of you, slowing his fingers movements down to nothing. 

he quickly crawled back up to kiss you, tongue sliding into your mouth, and you tasted yourself happily. your hands trailed up his arms that stood strong beside your head, then down his chest, down to his waistband. your fingers slipped underneath his boxers to grip his length, and the action almost made him cum in his pants, his patience is running too thin. he’s so fucking horny, so blue balled by the mattress he just fucked his hips into like a middle schooler, he needed release and he needed it fast, despite wanting this night to last a lifetime. 

his hips bucked into your hand and you giggled, “i think you missed me.” 

“you have no fucking idea,” is all he responds as he pulls away from you, slipping his sweats down to his ankles and then off of him entirely. you make quick work of getting your panties off, the black lace seeing enough action for one night. you needed to feel him against you, all of him, no barriers. 

“enlighten me then,” you spit into your hand as he crawls above you once more, spreading it all over his already leaking cock. he grunts out, hips twitching, he needed you just as bad as you needed him. 

“missed these fucking tits,” he said as he grabs your chest, squeezing them hard. you kept your pace on his cock, tugging upward, circling your hand around him. 

“missed your pretty face,” he leaned down and planted a kiss on your lips then another on your jawline. 

“missed eating that sweet pussy,” he leaned down, out of reach for you to keep stroking him, and spit on your already too slick cunt while holding your legs up.

“missed fucking you stupid,” he lined himself up, spreading his precum and spit all over your folds. you hissed out, hips bucking to meet him, hoping to push him inside you already. 

“missed hearing you when you cum,” he matched your impatience and pushed inside, met with no resistance, sheathing himself inside you without hesitation. you screamed, screamed so fucking loud the entire hotel probably heard you, not expecting him to fill you so fast. 

“missed that sound, too,” he smiled, bottoming out, and you couldn’t respond. couldn’t do anything but breathe, the sheer length of him overwhelming, stealing your senses. he filled you so good, so right, you couldn’t form thoughts let alone words. primal instinct took over, your body moved before your brain could process. 

“need you to stop squeezing me so i can move, baby,” he grunts out, eyebrows furrowing, “missed this tight pussy too much, all i could think about for weeks.” 

“ho- holy fuck yunho, y’split me fucking open,” you choke out, trying to relax your muscles, trying to get your breathing even. 

“what’s that you called me earlier? spine breaker?” he asked, and his demeanor was too cool, too casual. like being inside of you wasn’t affecting him nearly as much as it was affecting you. you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you nodded, the only response you could muster. 

he chuckled, chuckled, while being balls deep inside you, “that’s a new one.” 

that’s all he said before he started moving. with no warning, if you weren’t sure before that he split you fucking open, you were definitely sure now. you were a screaming mess underneath him as he rutted into you, long fingers hooked under your knees, pressing them toward your head, you only got louder. 

“fucking h-hell, yunho,” you cried out, eyes lolling back again as he fucked into you at a harsh pace. 

“so fucking wet,” his knuckles were turning white at his grip on your legs, pistoling himself at a rhythm only he could keep up with, easily rearranging your insides. 

“you can take it,” he says before you can say a word, he can see your eyebrows furrowed, your moans muzzled down to small sounds of despair leaving your lips. he knows he’s being rough, he knows he’s fucking you harshly, but you’ve taken it before, so you can do it again. 

“yun, i don- i can’t—”

“yes you can,” he encourages, but it doesn’t feel much like encouragement as he only picks up the pace. 

he gives you a second to breathe when he pulls out, but he only flips you over, pulling you up by your hips so you’re on all fours. you hiccup, already reduced to jelly, you don’t know if your legs can withstand the force of his thrusts. 

“slutty little cunt has taken me before, she’ll do it again,” his words are just as harsh as his thrusts as he slips back in, pushing your back down into the mattress with a large hand when it inevitably rises to meet his thrusts. 

your face meets the pillow, turning to the side so you can at least breathe, tears wetting the mattress at his relentless abuse at your cunt. he reaches around your hips and brings a finger to your clit, rubbing quick circles, and god you don't even know what sounds are coming out of you at this point. 

tears and screams are leaving you, but your hips are fucking back on him, meeting his thrusts, and he’s smiling. wide, teeth showing, he’s so prideful. he knew you could do it, take him, take whatever he’s giving you, because you’re a slut. his slut. he won’t let you out of his hands again. 

“f-fuck ‘m close, fuck,” he can hear the sobs through your words, he only wishes he could see the tears that are now soaking the mattress, no doubt ruining your makeup. 

he could feel it in himself too, he was far too close to be fucking you like this. as much as he needed release, he wasn’t ready to cum just yet. he wanted to see you. 

he flipped you back over, slipping back inside you with ease, and your arms immediately hooked around his neck to pull him into a kiss. 

it was sweet, almost soft, the way you were kissing him when the way he fucked you was almost dehumanizing. like you didn’t matter, your pleasure was up to you, yet you both knew that was far from the truth. his thrusts kept up as he kissed you slow, nasty, tongues moving in tandem with another. you were whimpering in his mouth and he could feel you tightening around him, he knew you were close. 

“there you go baby, cum on this cock,” he broke the kiss, keeping your foreheads together, plowing into you with fervor. 

“gonna,” tears still streamed down your face, back arching so your chests met, skin touching skin. he needed you to cum now, he could feel his continence slipping. 

you finally tightened around him, really tightened around him, a high pitched, languid moan leaving your lips. he only repeated yes, yes as you shook against him, creaming around his cock. he finally let his release take him over, burying himself inside you, filling you up. 

you could feel every drop, the warmth spreading through you like wildfire, there was no other feeling like it. it was comforting, being so full, being so heavy with this huge man resting his weight on top of you.

he finally rolls off, laying beside you, catching his breath just as you were. 

“it’s kinda crazy that you came to my club tonight,” you take your hair out of it’s entanglement on top of your head, letting it fall free on the bed, “i really thought i’d never see you again.” 

“i’d never let that happen,” he shook his head, eyes closed as he laid beside you, chest still heaving. 

“what do you mean?” you turned to look at him, “you knew i worked there?” 

“nah, i’m just lucky.” 

[rootedinrevisions]

No Nut November...or Not

SUMMARY: When a harmless bar conversation turns into a bet about who can last the longest during No Nut November, the stakes are set. They both assume they can outlast the other without breaking a sweat. What they don’t anticipate is you–their mischievous partner–who takes it as a personal challenge to make the month as impossible as humanly possible. Because why should they get to have all the fun?

A/N: Thank you so much to the Nonny who sent in this request! This one is a little more outside my comfort zone than what I normally write, but I think it turned out okay. Please let me know how you feel about it!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT. (Lingerie, Spanking, Slight Dom, Unprotected Sex (be responsible people), P in V (reverse cowgirl), Voyeurism/Exhibitionism (not sure if this counts in a poly relationship but including it in case)

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The Hard Deck was alive with its usual hum of chatter and laughter, the jukebox belting out an old rock anthem. You leaned back in your chair, nursing a cold beer as you watched Jake and Bradley settle into their usual rhythm.

Jake smirked, his signature cocky grin firmly in place as he tipped his bottle toward Bradley. “Face it, Bradshaw, you just can’t handle the pressure. That’s why I’m better at pretty much everything.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, though the twitch of his jaw betrayed his annoyance. “You keep telling yourself that, Bagman. Last time I checked, you couldn’t keep up with me in the air…let alone other places.”

His gaze then shifted to you and he shot you a wink. You hid your smile behind your bottle, enjoying the way their bickering played out like clockwork. It was endearing in its own way, how the two of them always seemed to push each other just to prove who could come out on top.

“Alright, alright,” you interjected, setting your drink down and tilting your head at them. “What’s it going to be this time? Another darts match? Arm wrestling in the middle of Penny’s bar?”

“Don’t even think about it boys,” she interjects from behind the bar causing your lips to curve into a smirk.

Jake turned to you with a gleam in his eye, his grin widening. “Nah, that would be too easy, sweetheart. I’m thinking something better. Something that requires real willpower.”

Bradley scoffed, but there was a flicker of curiosity on his face. “What are you thinking, Hangman?”

Jake leaned forward, bracing one elbow on the table. “No Nut November.”

The words hung in the air for a beat before you burst out laughing, nearly spilling your beer. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m dead serious.” Jake looked over at Bradley, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Think you’ve got the guts to keep it together for a whole month, Bradshaw? Or are you gonna fold like you always do?”

Bradley narrowed his eyes, his lips curving into a slow, confident smile. “You’re on. But don’t come crying to me when you lose after, what, three days?”

“Three days?” Jake repeated mock outrage in his tone. “I’ve got steel discipline, Bradshaw. You’re the one who’s always got his head in the clouds.”

“Oh, this is good,” you said, shaking your head in amusement. You could already tell where this was headed, and it was going to be entertaining, to say the least

“What’s the wager?” Bradley asked, his eyes not leaving Jake.

“The usual,” Jake said with a shrug. “Loser has to do whatever the winner says. No complaints, no excuses.”

Bradley nodded, extending his hand across the table. “Deal.”

They shook on it, their grips firm and their gazes locked in mutual defiance. You snipped your beer, biting back a grin as an idea began to form in your mind.

If they were really going to go through with this, you might as well make it interesting. After all, wasn’t it your duty as their partner to keep them on their toes?

“I hope you two are ready,” you said, your voice deceptively sweet as you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Because I’m not about to make this easy for either of you.”

Jake arched a brow, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Bradley’s eyes flicked to yours, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension flashing across his face. But neither of them had the chance to respond before you stood, finishing the last of your drink and setting the bottle down with a soft clink.

“Good luck, boys,” you said, giving them a wink before walking away.

Behind you, you could hear Jake muttering, “What the hell does that mean?”

The next evening, the glow of the Hard Deck’s neon lights and the buzz of competitive banter were a distant memory. In their place was the soft hum of music drifting from the living room speaker and the warmth of home-cooked comfort filling the air.

Jake and Bradley’s off-base apartment had always been a haven of sorts—a space where the three of you could unwind, trading the chaos of your days for shared laughter and easy companionship, and a lot of physicality. Tonight was no different.

You stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and a grin tugging at your lips as you recalled the way Jake and Bradley had shaken on their bet the night before, each so sure of their resolve. It was all in good fun, of course, but watching them try to outlast each other was going to be a source of endless entertainment. Especially if you had anything to say about it.

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the cozy apartment kitchen as you stirred a simmering pot on the stove. Bradley leaned beside you, chopping vegetables with steady precision, while Jake stood at the counter, tossing together a salad. It was a rare quiet evening for the three of you, the kind of domestic tranquility that felt all the more special amidst the chaos of naval schedules.

You glanced at Bradley out of the corner of your eye. He was focused on his task, the rhythmic thwack of the knife against the cutting board filling the space between the three of you.

Setting the spoon aside, you turned toward him, brushing your hand lightly along the small of his back as you reached for the bowl beside him. “Thanks for helping out,” you said, your voice casual but laced with a subtle warmth.

“No problem,” Bradley replied, his tone as calm as ever. He didn’t look up from the cutting board, his focus unbroken.

Undeterred, you let your fingers linger a moment longer than necessary before pulling away, casually brushing against his forearm as you leaned over to grab a kitchen towel. Still no reaction—though you noticed the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

From across the kitchen, Jake chuckled softly. You looked over your shoulder to find him watching with a smug grin, one eyebrow raised as if to say, “Really? Is that all you’ve got?”

Game on.

Turning back to Bradley, you stepped closer, reaching for the bowl of chopped veggies just as he finished. 

“Let me get that,” you said, letting your fingers trail along his wrist as you took the bowl from him. This time, there was the faintest flicker of something in his expression, but he quickly masked it, his lips curving into an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Thanks,” you said sweetly, placing the bowl on the counter and brushing past Jake on your way to the fridge.

You could feel his eyes on you, but he didn’t say a word, his hands continuing to toss the salad with deliberate nonchalance. Smiling to yourself, you opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle of wine, taking your time as you returned to the counter.

Jake didn’t react when you sidled up beside him, leaning slightly against his arm as you reached for a corkscrew. But when your fingers brushed his wrist—lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin—his hands faltered, sending a stray piece of lettuce tumbling onto the floor.

“Oops,” you murmured, hiding your grin as you grabbed the corkscrew and stepped back. You almost painfully slow, bent down to pick up the lettuce, making sure the skirt you were wearing slid up giving Jake just the tiniest glimpse of the frilly lace of your underwear peeking out at him.

Jake shot you a look, his smirk slipping for a fraction of a second before he composed himself. 

“Careful there, darlin’,” he said, his voice smooth but with a slight edge as his hand moved to your hip.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Bradley glancing over, his smirk now firmly in place. “What’s wrong, Seresin? You’re not getting distracted, are you?”

Jake’s jaw tightened just enough for you to notice, and you bit back a laugh, turning your attention back to the wine. 

“Oh, don’t tease him, Bradshaw,” you said innocently, pouring three glasses with careful precision. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he said nothing, instead focusing intently on his salad as if it were the most important task in the world.

You smiled to yourself, setting the glasses on the counter. This was going to be even more fun than you thought.

Dinner was ready not long after, and the three of you settled at the small dining table tucked against the window. The kitchen lights cast a soft glow over the scene, the faint hum of music still playing in the background. Plates were filled with the fruits of your collective labor: roasted chicken, sautéed vegetables, and a fresh salad that Jake had insisted was “restaurant-quality.”

You took the first bite, savoring the flavors as they hit your tongue. But instead of keeping the reaction to yourself, you let out a quiet, almost breathy moan, closing your eyes as though the simple taste of the meal was enough to send you to heaven.

When you opened your eyes, you caught both Jake and Bradley staring, their forks paused midair. Their gazes flicked to each other in a brief, wordless exchange before they simultaneously looked down at their plates, the muscles in their jaws tensing as they focused a little too intently on their food.

Suppressing a grin, you stabbed another piece of chicken with your fork, dragging it slowly through the sauce before taking another bite, this time pulling the utensil from your lips with an exaggerated slowness. You made sure the movement was subtle enough to seem natural—just enough to plant the idea without making it obvious.

The effect was immediate. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake shift in his seat, adjusting his posture in a way that suggested he was trying to ignore you. Across from him, Bradley chewed with deliberate focus, his expression unreadable except for the faint tightness in his jaw.

“Everything okay?” you asked innocently, looking between the two of them.

“Fine,” Jake said quickly, his tone light but clipped. He took a long drink of water, his eyes trained firmly on his plate as if it held the answers to all of life’s mysteries.

“Yeah, fine,” Bradley echoed, though his voice carried a hint of strain as he reached for the salad bowl, pretending to busy himself with serving more.

You leaned back in your chair, letting the silence settle for a moment before leaning forward again, your fingers brushing against the edge of your fork. There was a bit of sauce clinging to the tip, and instead of reaching for a napkin, you raised the utensil to your lips, your tongue darting out to catch the stray droplet.

It wasn’t dramatic—barely more than a flick—but the tension in the room crackled like static electricity. Jake’s fork clattered against his plate, and Bradley muttered something under his breath, though neither of them said anything directly.

Satisfied, you straightened in your chair and continued eating, keeping your movements deliberately slow and casual. You were playing the long game, after all, and the night was still young.

The evening stretched on, the kind of Saturday night that carried the promise of an easygoing, relaxed vibe. But the air between the three of you had changed. Every glance, every subtle movement felt charged, as if all the teasing from dinner was quietly simmering beneath the surface, waiting for something to tip it over the edge.

As the game time drew near, you decided to take a break, excusing yourself with a casual, “I’ll be right back. Gonna get comfy for the game.”

Jake barely looked up, his attention already focused on the TV screen as he pulled up the Longhorns' game schedule. Bradley nodded absently, taking another sip of his beer.

You made your way toward Jake’s bedroom. His closet door creaked open, and you moved quickly, your fingers brushing past the shirts hanging neatly in a row until you found it—the burnt orange jersey. You had no intention of wearing it the traditional way, though.

Next, you turned your attention to the bottom drawer of Jake’s dresser. The one that, over time, had become a place for a few of your things—your stuff from nights spent at their place, the clothes you didn’t mind leaving behind. You sifted through the familiar pile, your fingers grazing the fabric until you found what you were looking for. The lacy black thong with the satin bow on the back, a gift from Bradley on your birthday last year.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stripped out of your clothes, quickly slipping into the thong and then pulling the jersey over your head. The fabric settled comfortably against your skin, the oversized fit doing little to hide the outline of what you were really wearing underneath.

When you emerged from the bedroom, your eyes met the living room where the guys were settling in. Jake was already lounging on the couch, the TV lighting up his face as he focused on pulling up the game. Bradley was standing near the fridge, mid-drink when he saw you. His hand froze, the bottle of beer almost slipping from his grip. His eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he took in the sight of you in nothing but the jersey.

Jake’s gaze flickered over to you, eyes widening for just a moment before he cleared his throat, his focus shifting back to the screen as though it was the most important thing in the world. But you could see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tightened against the remote as if it were somehow anchoring him.

Bradley, on the other hand, had a harder time hiding it. His eyes followed you across the room, the surprise quickly turning into something unreadable, but not before his lips parted as though he might say something—until he caught himself. Instead, he looked down at his beer, taking a long swig to steady himself.

You smirked, casually flopping down on the couch beside Jake, making sure to let the fabric of the jersey shift just enough to give him a better view of what you were wearing—or, more accurately, not wearing underneath.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Jake’s hand settled on your thigh, warm and heavy, sending a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the cool air from the open window. You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder, and wrapped your arms around his arm for good measure, leaning in close to him.

As you shifted your position, tilting your knees slightly, you felt the jersey ride up a bit higher, just enough for the lacy black thong to peek out from beneath the fabric. It was a calculated move, knowing full well that Bradley would notice.

Sure enough, when he finally settled back onto the couch on the other side of you, his gaze flickered down. His hand, perhaps on autopilot, reached out, brushing against your nearly bare skin, and you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. Bradley’s fingers squeezed the flesh there, just a little too long, a little too possessively, before he quickly pulled his hand away, his eyes darting up to meet yours.

You tilted your head back into Jake’s side, letting out a soft, content sigh, and allowed yourself to sink into his warmth. The move was deliberate, a subtle taunt that made Bradley’s jaw clench and his nostrils flare. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t quite keep his eyes off you, and you reveled in the power you held over the two men tonight.

“Enjoying the game?” Jake asked, his voice low, as if he didn’t want to break the spell you’d cast. His fingers tightened on your thigh, pressing just enough to remind you of his presence.

“Mmm,” you replied, letting the sound linger in the air, your breath warm against his neck.

Jake leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple as he whispered, “You know, you’re really playing a dangerous game, don’t you think?”

You looked up at him, your expression innocent, the tease in your eyes impossible to hide. “Maybe,” you replied coyly, “but I think it’s one you’ll both enjoy losing.”

The game continued, but the real action was unfolding right in front of Jake and Bradley. You could feel their eyes on you—the weight of their attention was undeniable. Jake’s hand had barely moved from your thigh, and Bradley’s fingers lingered there, giving you little indication that he had any intention of stopping. They were both wound tight, and you were enjoying every minute of it.

As the Longhorns scored a touchdown, the roar from the crowd on the TV mixed with your own excited gasp. Without thinking, you jumped to your feet, the burst of energy sending you bouncing up and down in celebration. You felt the jersey ride up as you raised your arms, the fabric lifting just enough to expose the small, barely-there thong underneath.

Your ass swayed with each bounce, the thong almost completely exposed, offering a perfect view of your bare skin to both men. The sensation of their eyes locked on you was intoxicating, but you didn’t stop. You made sure every movement was deliberate, a tease designed to keep them both hooked.

Finally, you turned around, your back to them now. The jersey hung just low enough to cover your front but did nothing to hide the thong from their view. You felt their stares burning into you, the tension between the three of you palpable in the air.

With a grin, you smirked over your shoulder, catching their eyes before saying, “Man, I love football.”

Jake shifted uncomfortably, his hand now tight around the beer bottle in his lap, but he didn’t say anything. Bradley, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his reaction. His jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in frustration. His hand moved to the front of his jeans, adjusting himself. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself, like every instinct he had was telling him to do something more.

The tension in the room was unbearable, and you could practically feel the moment when Bradley’s restraint finally snapped. As you smirked over your shoulder, still reveling in the heat of their gazes, you noticed the way his hands tightened into fists at his sides. His jaw was locked, his body rigid as he tried—unsuccessfully—to stay composed.

Then, without warning, he shot up from the couch. “Screw this,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough, filled with frustration.

Before you could even react, he was on you. One moment, you were standing in front of him, and the next, he had you hoisted effortlessly over his shoulder. You gasped in surprise, but the only response from him was a determined growl.

You kicked your legs slightly, but it was no use. Bradley had you completely at his mercy, carrying you down the hallway toward his room with a purposeful stride.

Jake called out from the living room, his voice laced with disbelief. “Bradshaw—what the hell are you doing?”

But Bradley didn’t even look back, his focus solely on you as he carried you down the hall, ignoring whatever punishment Jake might throw at him. The bet? The consequences? They didn’t matter in that moment. All that mattered was the desire that had been building up in him, the need to finally act on everything he’d been holding back.

When he reached the door to his room, he kicked it open with one swift motion, stepping inside and slamming it shut behind him. As soon as it was closed, he dropped you onto the bed, his eyes dark with intensity.

“You’ve been teasing us all night,” he growled, voice thick with desire. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You smirked, already knowing that you had pushed him too far. But that didn’t stop you from playing along, feeling the thrill of victory in the way you’d slowly unraveled him.

Bradley didn’t care about the bet anymore. All he cared about was you, and right now, that was enough.

As Bradley moved over you, his hands working the black thong off of your body with an urgency that matched the heat in his eyes, you felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. The door swung open with a creak, and there, standing in the doorway, was Jake. His smirk was wide, his eyes gleaming with that same cocky confidence, but there was a sharpness to it now—a flicker of something darker beneath the surface.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him. His eyes shifted between you and Bradley, taking in the sight of the thong being discarded carelessly to the side. The silence that followed was thick with tension, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Bradley’s fingers paused for a moment, as if sensing Jake’s presence, but his focus quickly returned to you. The momentary distraction was all Jake needed. Without breaking his smirk, Jake pushed off the doorframe and strode confidently across the room.

“Bradley, step back, baby,” Jake’s voice was low, filled with a knowing taunt. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes still on you as he placed a hand on your waist, guiding you down across his lap.

You gasped, a mix of surprise and excitement flooding through you as you found yourself positioned across his strong legs. Your heart raced, but the smirk never left your face.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?” Jake’s voice was suddenly darker, his tone shifting as he ran a finger down your spine. “You think you can tease us both, and get away with it?” He gave you a playful, but firm tap on the back of your thigh, the sting shocking you.

He leaned forward slightly, pressing his lips to your ear. “Well, it’s time somebody put you in your place.”

Bradley watched, still breathing heavily as he stood at the foot of the bed, his hands flexing with restrained hunger. The game had changed entirely. You had crossed a line, and now, both men knew it was their turn to take control.

Jake’s grip tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he positioned you more firmly across his lap. He traced a finger across the curve of your backside, his voice rough as he said, “This isn’t over, sweetheart. Not by a long shot.”

The first smack comes without warning, a startled cry leaving your lips as you feel the sting of Jake’s hand.

“That’s one. You’ve got nine more. Think you can handle it?”

You nodd, but Jake just makes a tsk tsk tsk noise with his mouth before delivering another smack to the same spot.

“Use your words. We’re back to one. I can do this all night.”

“Yes. Yes, I can handle it.”

You hear Jake let out a low chuckle before saying, “Damn right you can, baby.”

The final smack echoed through the room, sharper than the rest, and you couldn't suppress the gasp that left your lips. A wave of heat rushed through you, a mix of sting and longing building in your body. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, the tension of the moment overwhelming.

Jake’s hand lingered, resting gently on your sore skin, the warmth of his palm contrasting with the burn of the smacks. For a brief moment, there was silence. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the weight of his touch seemed to calm you, despite the ache.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softer now, but still full of command. His hand moved slowly, rubbing circles into your tender skin, soothing the burn as he spoke. "You did so well for me."

You could hear the pride in his voice, and feel the shift in his demeanor as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. It was a small, almost gentle gesture, but it spoke volumes in the context of everything that had just transpired.

His fingers traced along your back now, his touch lighter, almost tender. "I know you can take it," he continued, his tone warm. "You’ve been so good for us tonight."

The praise was enough to stir something inside you—something that made the lingering sting worth it. He could still dominate you, but in this moment, you were his, and he took care of you in a way that felt like both power and care.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen next, sweetheart,” Jake says. “Bradley here is going to lay on his bed, and you’re going to ride him, reverse cowgirl so he can watch that pretty ass bounce as your ride him. And so I can watch your perfect tits bounce.” You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together at his words. “And I’m going to stand at the end of the bed and I want your eyes on me the whole time. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” Jake says before helping you up off his lap.

The moment you lift yourself off Jake’s lap, there’s a quiet shift in the room. The tension in the room grows as you crawl up the bed, hovering over Bradley, who’s now lying back on the bed, his eyes dark with hunger but also something else–softness, a trace of tenderness mixed with the primal need.

As you settle above him, the weight of your body supported by your hands on either side of his chest, Bradley’s hands reach up to pull you down. He doesn’t waste a second, his lips finding yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. The kiss is almost electric, his lips hungry, but gentle enough to make you melt against him. The urgency fades slightly, and you find yourself losing a bit of control as you sink into the warmth of his embrace. His hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you close as if he doesn’t want to let you go.

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, everything else falls away. It's just the two of you, your bodies pressing together, the soft sound of your breathing filling the space between you. You feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and warm, grounding you in this moment. It’s different with Bradley—there’s a tenderness there, something that contrasts with the more commanding side Jake showed earlier.

When you pull away, your lips still tingling, you can see the quiet satisfaction in Bradley’s eyes. His hands slip down your sides, tracing the outline of your body as if committing every inch of you to memory.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire, but there’s a softness to it, a reverence that makes your chest tighten.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again, but this time it’s slower, more deliberate, and you can feel the shift between you—less about the tease, less about the game, and more about the connection.

You shift, moving so that your back is now towards Bradley, and your gaze finds Jake’s. The electricity between you three is palpable, the air thick with the kind of unspoken connection that runs deep. You can feel Bradley’s hands on your waist, steadying you, but it’s Jake’s eyes that hold your attention now—dark, intent, but filled with something else. There’s a depth in his gaze, a silent understanding, a promise that whatever happens next, it’s about the three of you as one.

You reach down, tugging the burnt orange jersey off, letting it fall to the floor in a fluid motion, leaving yourself exposed before them. The vulnerability stirs something within you—both exhilarating and grounding at once. With each passing second, the trust between you grows stronger, the knowledge that you're not just being seen, but truly understood, is almost overwhelming.

You pause, locking eyes with Jake, and the tension rises again. His presence is commanding, but it's the gentle weight of his gaze that gives you the confidence to continue. Slowly, you begin to lower yourself, the movement calculated and deliberate, not just for them, but for yourself. 

Bradley’s hands guide you, steadying you as you move closer to him. Your eyes flutter close as you feel the stretch of Bradley as you sink further and further onto him.

“Uh uh. Eyes on me, baby.” Jake reminds you.

You nod and open your eyes, yours immediately find Jake’s green ones. They’re darker than normal, laced with desire and need.

“You’re perfect,” Bradley whispers, his voice thick with emotion. You can feel the weight of his words, not just in his tone, but in how his hands trace over your skin, grounding you in this moment.

You stay locked on Jake’s gaze, the intensity of his eyes grounding you in the moment. The air between you two feels thick, like a promise that’s been quietly building, waiting to be fulfilled. His face softens, but there’s a quiet strength in it that makes your heart race. 

Bradley’s hands move to your waist, his touch steady and sure. He guides you gently, helping you find your rhythm as your body begins to move, slow and deliberate. His touch is a contrast to Jake’s silent command—Bradley’s touch is soft, like a grounding force, holding you steady.

You feel the heat rising, your chest tightening as the tension builds. But through it all, Jake’s eyes never leave yours. There’s something magnetic about the way he watches, as though he’s seeing you—every part of you—in a way that makes you feel both vulnerable and safe, all at once. His jaw tightens as he shifts, the intensity in his gaze never faltering.

With every small movement, every shift of your body, you feel the pressure building. Your breaths come quicker, your heart racing as Bradley’s hands guide you.

“S-shit,” you hear Bradley mutter from beneath you, causing you to clench around him.

Bradley’s hands move to your back, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. His touch is tender, guiding you closer, helping you reach a place of intensity that feels almost overwhelming.

And then, it comes—like a wave crashing over you. You can feel the pressure building, the world narrowing down to the feeling of Bradley’s hands on your skin, his body beneath you, and Jake’s steady gaze pulling you deeper. Every part of you is alive, connected, and entwined in a way you’ve never experienced before.

Your breath catches as the moment hits, your body trembling as you reach the peak. Your eyes never leave Jake’s, and for a brief moment, everything else fades away. There’s nothing but the bond between the three of you—the love, the trust, the unspoken understanding that this is where you’re meant to be. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit.” Bradley grunts as you feel ropes of his seed release into you.

You collapse on the bed against Bradley, your body spent and trembling, Jake’s smile softens, a quiet satisfaction in his eyes.

“You’re incredible,” Bradley whispers, pulling you into him, his hands still on your back as he kisses the top of your head. His voice is filled with a tenderness.

“You’re perfect,” Jake adds softly, his voice low and comforting.

Bradley shifts beside you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he looks over at Jake. There’s a quiet moment between them, an unspoken understanding passing between the two. With a soft chuckle, Bradley pushes himself up from the bed, his gaze lingering on you for a second longer before he speaks.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Jake, you wanna take care of her while I’m gone?” he asks, the affection in his voice evident.

Jake’s response is immediate, his eyes softening as he watches you. “Of course,” he says, his voice low but filled with warmth.

As Bradley moves to the bathroom, Jake crawls onto the bed beside you, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. His presence is a steady, comforting weight as he shifts closer, opening his arms for you. You don’t hesitate, scooting over to him, seeking the comfort of his embrace.

You curl into him, your body instinctively leaning into his warmth as your head rests against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is a calming rhythm beneath your ear, and you let out a soft sigh of contentment, the tension of the last few minutes slowly ebbing away.

Jake wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer, his hand gently stroking your hair as he settles against the pillows. His touch is soothing, almost protective, and it fills you with a sense of security that you can’t quite put into words.

“You did so well,” Jake murmurs, his voice soft and tender. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You smile against his chest, the words washing over you like a balm. You can feel the warmth of his body, the affection in every movement, and it’s all you need right now. The bond between the three of you feels unspoken but undeniable, and in this moment, everything feels right.

As you settle more comfortably against Jake, his arms holding you close, you allow yourself to fully relax, your body melting into his embrace. The soft sound of Bradley’s footsteps in the bathroom fades into the background as you lose yourself in the warmth of Jake’s care.

The world outside this room doesn’t matter right now. There’s only the three of you, your trust, and the quiet love that lingers in the space between. And for the moment, that’s all you need.

As the warmth of Jake’s embrace settles around you, the exhaustion from the long day and the intensity of everything that’s happened begin to catch up with you. Your body feels heavy, your mind slowly unwinding as the last threads of wakefulness start to slip away. You’re so close to falling asleep, the soothing rhythm of Jake’s heartbeat lulling you deeper into comfort.

But then, there’s a soft rustle of movement. You feel the bed shift slightly, and soon, Bradley is back. He’s holding a warm washcloth, the scent of soap and something faintly floral filling the air as he gently presses it against your skin. The touch is tender, careful, as he begins to clean you up, his fingers moving gently over you.

“Let me know if I’m being too rough,” Bradley murmurs softly, his voice a whisper in the quiet room, his gaze focused on his task. There’s no rush in his movements, only a quiet affection, as he takes care of you.

Once he finishes, he places the cloth aside, his hand lingering for just a moment before he pulls back. You feel the bed dip as he moves around, and then, in the next moment, he’s crawling onto the bed beside you. His arms slip around your waist from behind, pulling you into him, and you easily melt back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against your back.

You’re trapped now, but it doesn’t feel like a prison. Bradley’s strong chest presses against your back, his arms holding you securely while Jake, still on the other side of you, continues to hold you close. The two of them surround you, their presence comforting, and you can’t help but feel safe in their arms.

“Comfy?” Bradley murmurs against your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod slightly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Wouldn’t want to fall asleep any other way.”

The steady sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies, and the quiet intimacy of the moment all wash over you. You can feel yourself drifting, your body sinking into the bed, the pull of sleep becoming harder to resist.

Just as your mind starts to fade, you hear Jake’s voice, light and teasing, cutting through the soft lull of the room.

“So, Bradshaw,” Jake begins, his tone dripping with playful mockery. “Not even twenty-four hours, huh?”

Bradley chuckles softly behind you, his fingers idly tracing circles on your waist as he gives a quiet, amused grunt. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

Jake snorts, a low, amused laugh slipping from his lips. “Right, but it’s nice to know you’re still a little bit predictable.”

You can hear the affection in Jake’s voice, his teasing not mean-spirited but filled with that familiar bond that the three of you share. As the sound of their laughter and gentle banter continues, the exhaustion pulls you under, and you finally surrender to sleep, the two men’s arms around you the last thing on your mind as you drift away.

[rrrrinmaru]

calculated risk (but boy am i bad at math) (sylus x mc) (nsfw) pt 2

wc: 4.8k rating: E warnings: NSFW content, dirty talk, handjobs, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, thigh fucking (intercrural), orgasm denial, penis in vagina sex (just the tip), dom!sylus sub!mc, male-centric pleasure because mc is being denied brief: you lose a bet to sylus and you have to do whatever he wants for 24 hours // recommended to read part 1 here for context // part 3 finale here

Being unable to refuse Sylus for twenty-four hours is not one of your smarter decisions.

To be fair, you didn’t decide much of anything. You lost a bet—rigged, you would argue, if he would care to listen—and he chose his reward. 

You would put up more of a fight if he weren’t so intent on ruining you.

“Sylus,” you gasp, the sound weak and shaky. It’s more an exhale than a word at this point. Your lungs feel like they’re collapsing in on themselves and your knees are going to give out if he keeps trying to mouth wetly at your clit—

He kisses your pert clit, laughing at the way it makes you clench around nothing. “What an excellent view,” he murmurs, lips brushing teasingly along your cunt, the tip of his tongue darting out to slide along the slick wetness dripping down your thighs. You cry out, legs shaking as you rock forward on your toes. You’re not sure if you want to move away from his mouth or sit back down on his face to chase that clever tongue. “Hips up, sweetie.”

“I hate you,” you whine weakly. Your entire body is trembling from the effort of holding yourself up, thighs tensed as you try to prop yourself up higher. Your forearms are braced against the desk in his study, palms wet with sweat as you try to sweep away any stray papers. Sylus probably doesn’t care, but you don’t want to hear the smugness in his voice when he holds up a piece of paper with ink streaks all over the surface and accuses you of messing with his work. 

You tried to hold yourself up at first, propped up on your elbows enough to look back and see a head of silver hair. Fingers on your bare ass, skirt hiked up to your waist and pooling on the table—you could see the way his fingers dug into your skin, kneading the plush fat of your ass as he spread you the way he liked. Wide open and dripping, cunt hole twitching sporadically the longer you went without any stimulation.

If he wasn’t touching you, then he was looking at you. 

Then he put his mouth on your pussy, that hungry tongue digging into your cunt as if he truly wanted to eat you alive. The sucking sounds from your cunt were obscene and they made you drop your head to the silver surface of the table in an attempt to cool your flaming cheeks with the chilled metal. 

It didn’t work. Not when Sylus groaned after a while, fingers flexing against your ass to push you up higher so he can get a better angle to work at your pussy.

“Just let me cum,” you try pleading with him. Sylus hums, the vibrations going straight to your throbbing pussy and making the ache worse. 

“I don’t think you get to call the shots here.” There’s a thread of amusement in his voice—it’s a thread you want to grip between your fingers and snap. “Twenty-four hours, right?”

You’re not above setting your pride aside if it means you can cum. You’d be the first to fling it out the window when he’s got you on a high wire like this, so close to tripping over the edge you swear you can taste it. 

“Please, Sylus,” you moan, breath hitching when he latches back onto your clit midway through your words. You want to say something else, like I’m begging you, please just let me cum, I’m so fucking close, but he gives your swelling clit a particularly hard suck and your entire mind goes blank. It’s just straight pleasure, a fire rushing up your spine and making your eyes roll back on instinct. 

Your knees involuntarily go limp. You can’t hold yourself up, not when your upper body is balanced uselessly against the desk and your legs aren’t listening to you. In the split second where your toes slip against the floor, you’ve resigned yourself to tumbling to the ground and getting a bruise on your hip in the process.

But Sylus laughs, pulling back just enough to press an open-mouthed kiss to the hungry hole of your pussy, and slips his hands down to cup your ass. He pushes you up, forcing you to slide up on the desk—your hands flail weakly, scrabbling for some sort of purchase and finding none. You must hit something because there’s a brief snap of pain against your knuckles, and you think something tumbles to the ground. 

You don’t know what it is, though, because Sylus is suddenly hunched over your back, his chest pressed up tightly against you with both hands coming around to the front of your thighs to pull your legs further apart. 

“You’re so cute when you’re like this,” he pants into your ear. His voice is a low, rolling sound that goes straight to your clit. You try to close your legs to put some pressure on your pussy, and that makes him chuckle. He forces your thighs apart with ease. You’re not putting up much of a fight, not with how weak your muscles are and how the only thing you can focus on is that you’re this close to cumming.

“Please,” you beg, words escaping you. There isn’t anything else to say—your mind is a blur, clit and pussy twitching from the heat of Sylus’ hands just centimeters away. You want those hands on you, in you. You want him to bully your clit between his fingers, pinching and rolling your swollen clit while fucking two other fingers into you. Three fingers into you. Fuck, you’re wet enough that you think he could make four fit, just slide them in without any preamble and make you cry out from the stretch. 

Even the thought of it is enough to make you shiver. You moan, eyelashes fluttering as you weakly attempt to rock back into his hips. The line of his cock is hard against your skin, the metal zipper pressing into your ass. 

“Look at how desperate you are,” Sylus whispers. You can feel the shadow of his smile against the shell of your ear—his upturned lips rub against your heated skin, his breath burning a brand into the space where your ear meets your jaw. “Like a needy kitten in heat for a thick cock to fuck her stupid. Your clit is swollen, dollface.”

As if to prove a point, he presses against the underside of your clit with his thumb. It’s sensitive there, and he’s brought you to the edge and left you wanting so many times that this small movement is enough to make you jolt, a cry escaping your lips before you can even think to force it back. Your hips shudder, rutting against his thumb without any real thought or purpose, and he lets out an amused huff. 

“So twitchy. Is this pink pussy all for me?”

His other hand slips down, fingertips tracing the seam of your pussy. You’re so drenched you can hear the wet sounds of your pussy—the sticky sound when he dips one finger into your cunt and pulls it out, so quickly that you barely manage to clench around it for the slightest hint of pressure before it’s gone again. 

“Again, again—Sylus!”

A warm tongue runs along your neck. “Patience, sweetie. One finger isn’t enough for you?”

You are going to burst, and you swear you’ll take him with you. “More, please, I’m so fucking close—”

Two fingers fuck into you. They’re crooked at the knuckle, slamming up against the sensitive spot inside of you and you shriek, legs shaking so hard that Sylus has to lift you up again to press you against the table. 

“Please, please, please,” you babble mindlessly, vision blurry. “I’m—fuck, Sylus, nnngh—close, I’m—”

Your cunt tightens, clit twitching on Sylus’ thumb, and the heat enveloping you abruptly disappears. Your cunt is empty again, clinging onto nothing, and your clit is left with nothing to rub against, and there is nothing holding you up and you’re sliding off the desk. 

Strong arms come around your waist, scooping you up and onto a familiar lap. Sylus must have pulled his chair over, but you’re not concerned about that. You’re not concerned at all about the finer logistics of how he got you onto his lap. 

You’re concerned about how your pussy isn’t filled, how your thighs are still spasming from the brute force of an orgasm ripped away from your grasp like that.

You had it in your fingers. You were this close to cumming. One more slam of his fingers into your cunt and you would have tipped over and it would have been so good. 

“You can take it,” Sylus tells you, eyes gleaming. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

You stare at him. Is there a knife in the vicinity? Hell, a gun?

“Look at that expression. Are you upset?” He asks with a gleeful, knowing look in his eyes. “It’s just one orgasm, sweetie. Be patient.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out for a while. “Twenty-four hours?” You ask eventually, voice hoarse from crying out just seconds before, when you thought you were en route for cumming your mind out. 

Sylus shrugs, eyes closing briefly as he rolls his shoulders in that lazy manner of his. “You’ll cum soon enough.” His crimson gaze lands on you. Half-lidded and smug, like he’s pleased at how distraught you are from being denied an orgasm twice over. “If you can’t wait, I could tell you about how I plan to have you for the rest of my time. A little preview, if you’d like.”

“I don’t want a preview. I want this—” you reach down, fingers wrapping challengingly around Sylus’ stiff cock through the fabric of his pants. His breath catches, eyebrows rising as he looks down, admiring the way your fingers look against his outline of his cock, then he drags his gaze back up to you. 

His fingers thrum lightly against the sensitive skin at your waist. “And what will you do with it once you have it, dollface?”

You squeeze it, mollified by how it makes him tilt his head back and inhale sharply. It’s unfair how sexy he is, how good pleasure looks on him. He looks hedonistic like this, with his eyes closed as he lets the pleasure roll throughout his body, stemming from the hard cock beneath your fingers. You can feel the heat of it spilling through the fabric, and you’re tempted to pull his zipper down and sneak his cock out to sit on it. 

“Fuck myself on it,” you admit frankly. Your pussy clenches at the thought, and you dig your thumb into the head of his cock, hard enough for him to let out a pleased grunt. 

“Nngh, naughty girl. That wasn’t very nice of you,” he pants, opening one eye to look at you. But he doesn’t do anything to stop you. All he does is sit there, head lolling back far enough to expose his Adam’s Apple and the dip of his clavicle. As if waiting to see what you’ll do next.

You have half a mind to hop off his lap and leave him to settle it by himself. He deserves it, you think petulantly. If you can’t cum, then he shouldn’t get to soak in the syrupy pleasure of cumming either.

But you think about the heft of his cock. The way it feels in your palm, thick and heavy. The pearls of precum beading at the tip, the visceral proof of how aroused he can get at your touch. The way he flinches when you pull at his cock too tightly—the instinctive flinch, and then the gradual relaxation as he revels in the sensation. 

“Oh? Are you going to make it up to me?” He murmurs, feigned surprise in his voice as you pull the zipper down. He lifts his hips up helpfully, just enough for you to fish his cock out. 

You don’t bother replying to him. Instead, you steady his cock and suck on the insides of your mouth for a while. 

Then, you open your mouth, tongue out and resting on your lower lip as a trail of saliva drips from your mouth and onto Sylus’ cock. 

You see the way his cock jerks, precum spilling furiously from the tip. And when your saliva pools on Sylus cock, dripping into the slit and mixing with his precum—

“Fuck,” Sylus curses lowly. “Fuck, sweetie, you—”

You look up. Sylus’ pupils are blown wide open, dilated beyond belief as he stares at your mouth. His cock twitches, throbbing beneath your fingers and you slowly start to stroke, the slide made smooth by your saliva and his precum. You rub the pad of your thumb at his slit, playing with the sensitive head of his cock until he jerks, hips snapping up as he growls and tightens his grip on your waist. 

“You’re going to give a man ideas,” he groans, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. His gaze is hazy with arousal, and he looks at you with the confidence of a man who knows that you know he’s about to cum. His lips are crooked up in a taunting smile. 

You lick your lips. He looks good enough to eat. You had this cock in your mouth just hours ago, bruising the back of your throat, but you feel like sucking it again. You feel like running your tongue over the thick length of this cock. 

“I should edge you too.”

Sylus tilts his head. “You could,” he says agreeably. “Until I ordered you to make me cum. With your mouth. Your tits. Your fingers.”

His eyes drag down along the line of your body, pausing meaningfully at each location he mentions. “Your thighs,” he continues, looking straight at the sticky and damp patch between your thighs, tracking all the way up to your pussy. 

You shiver, clit pulsing at the thought of him rutting between your thighs. 

“Oh? You liked that, didn’t you?” He smirks, a pleased air settling on his shoulders as he looks you over. “Put your fingers to work, sweetie. I know you know how to use them.”

Some part of you really wants to resist on principle. But the horny part of you prevails, and you watch with satisfaction as you pull Sylus to the brink in a handful of minutes—he groans, a deep and hoarse sound as his muscles roll with the effort of keeping still so you’re balanced on his lap. His cock throbs heavily in your hand, betraying how he’s barely hanging on to his self-control, and you watch with bated breath as sticky cum spurts out in your palm.

You cup his swollen cockhead, catching the streaks of white cum on your fingers so it doesn’t stain his sweater. He makes a delicious sound when you rub the head of his cock against your palm while he’s still cumming—the overstimulation makes him twitch, fingers clenching at your waist over and over again as if to ground himself with the touch of your skin. 

“You made a mess,” you note idly, stroking him through the aftershocks. “Are you going to clean up after yourself?”

Sylus huffs, still breathing heavily with every pass of your hand, hips rutting up instinctively. “Decide where you want me to lick it off,” he grunts, free hand pulling your dress all the way up to your collar to expose your breasts. He licks his lips, giving you a pointed look as he blatantly stares at your tits, and you can feel the way your nipples harden under his gaze. 

“Go on,” he murmurs, breath catching when you rub at the underside of his cockhead. “Tits or cunt, sweetie? I’m feeling generous enough to let you choose.”

You want his mouth on your cunt again, but if he brings you to the brink one more time before ruining the orgasm, you might actually kill him. In these trying circumstances, having him lick the remnants of his cum off your breasts might be a better idea. 

Having come to a decision, you take your hands off his cock. Your palms are sticky with his cum, long strands of cum stretching between your fingers, and you reach up to cup your tits. 

Sylus watches intently, eyes glued to the way you pinch your nipples between your fingers. The way you spread his cum all over your tits, leaving white streaks on your skin as you go. His lips are slightly parted, tongue darting out occasionally to swipe across his lower lip as he watches, as if he can’t wait to put his mouth on you. 

His mouth on your chest, you think deliriously. Teeth worrying at your nipples, sucking at your skin until he leaves a ring of bruises across your skin. Tongue flicking those pretty buds until you’re begging for more, for fingers in your cunt—or his tongue flat, letting you rub your tits all over his mouth. 

You can’t decide which is better. So you press your arms together, pushing your cum covered tits up, and offer them to Sylus. 

“Clean them up,” you murmur, and Sylus chuckles.

“How demanding. Even when you have no power to order me around.” His tongue swipes against your left nipple, a fleeting sensation that sends sparks down your spine. “Lucky for you, I am feeling rather hungry.”

==

The torture continues. He corners you on the couch when you’re trying to watch something to get your mind off the hot arousal pooling in your gut for the past few hours. He puts you on his lap, back pressed up to your chest, feet up and planted on either side of his thighs on the sofa. Your hands under your knees just to hold yourself open for his taking as he plays idly with your cunt while watching the show you put on.

He keeps up a loose commentary about the show, laughing lightly when the male lead appears shirtless in the shower. “Is this what you watch in your free time?” Sylus asks, three fingers deep in your pussy while rubbing insistently at your clit. “Naked men in the shower?”

“Mmmph!” You moan, eyes rolling back at the electricity sparking in your veins. His fingers are thick and clever, pushing up against the bundle of nerves inside your pussy with such damning precision that your entire body is shaking from the effort of not cumming. And it’s like Sylus knows that, with how he shifts you easily in his lap, pulling you tighter against him and fucking rougher into you with his fingers. 

Like he’s trying to push you all the way to the brink. Like he takes pleasure in the way you deny yourself just to be obedient to him. 

“You’re missing the good parts,” Sylus continues, murmuring quietly in your ear. His voice isn’t loud, but your entire world seems to have shrunk to focus solely on him. His fingers, his heat, the puff of his breath against your ear. You’re looking straight ahead, eyes half-lidded, but you’re not seeing much of anything on the screen.

“Sylus,” you whine, pussy clenching tightly around his fingers. “Please, please, it’s been hours—”

He bites the shell of your ear, hard enough to sting, then runs his tongue wetly over the mark. “Patience,” he coaxes, even as his fingers pull at your clit hard enough to make you cry out, hips jerking forward uncontrollably. 

You’ve kind of had it with patience, but when Sylus lets go of you, third orgasm ruined, you take a deep breath and hold yourself back from strangling him. You do need his cock hard and alive to fuck yourself stupid on, when he’s stopped being so unhelpful. 

You go to bed early, nerves tense and temper high. If you punch the pillows around a bit before settling down and yanking the covers up to your chin, that’s between you and the bed. And Mephisto, who is likely reporting everything back to Sylus the moment you fall asleep. 

It takes ages, and a lot of tossing and turning in bed, but you must have fallen asleep at some point because you wake up to your legs in the air, held together by one hand wrapped around both ankles, and an unbearable heat between your thighs, pushing insistently against your clit.

You gasp, still dizzy from sleep and distracted by the wet slide of something against your pussy, hot and demanding. It drags along your slit, bumping the underside of your swollen pearl on every upstroke. It’s a slow, tenacious fire that builds in your gut, stoking the dying embers and coaxing the flames to roar up your spine once again. 

“Awake?” The voice is low, closer to a growl than anything else. “Go back to sleep, sweetie. All I need are your thighs and this sweet little cunt.”

His hips roll against yours, driving his cock further along your pussy. He fucks your thighs slowly, so fucking patient as he chases his orgasm—patience that you don’t have. You would try to coax him to fuck you harder if you weren’t still half-awake, vision bleary as you weakly clutch at the bedsheets. 

You’re not even sure what’s happening. All you know is that your pussy is aching, throbbing so badly for something, anything to be stuffed inside. His cock saws between your thighs, the slide made smooth by the copious amount of slick you’re dripping, and you moan when the head of his cock bumps against your clit. 

“More,” you gasp, the word rattling in your throat. “Sylus, please—”

“Shhh. Go back to sleep.”

You shake your head as best you can. Your back arches, trying to roll your hips up into his to get a better angle. To put more pressure on your clit. You’ve been denied for so long that you’re tiptoeing on the jagged knife’s edge—you just need a bit more, a little more of something, and you know you’ll cum.

But Sylus keeps up this devastatingly slow pace, like he’s taking his time, like he’s savoring the experience of you writhing beneath him. 

“Please,” you beg, eyes fluttering shut. There’s a moment where your voice breaks in two, and you think you might cry if he denies you again. It’s a steady build up, a long trek up a mountain with a payoff you can see, just barely out of reach. 

“Not yet,” Sylus replies softly. There is another hand on your hip, thumb rubbing gently over the skin there. It’s almost a reassurance, an attempt to cool the flames licking over your body, but then he moves your legs over one shoulder so his other hand can join your legs, squeezing your thighs together to create a tighter crevice for him to fuck into. “You can take it, sweetie.”

You’re not sure you can. The back of your thighs are pressed up against Sylus’ chest, the jut of his broad shoulder leaning into your calves. He holds you in place like you’re nothing more than a sex toy he’s using in the middle of the night to try and rub one off. He rocks his cock against your pussy, the full length of it scraping past your slit and peeking through your thighs at the end.

Your clit feels battered and bruised and far too sensitive for the consistent grinding of his cock. When he pulls back, far enough that the head of his cock is positioned right at the mouth of your pussy, you can hear the way you start to whine. 

You can feel it. The briefest touch of pressure, his cockhead nudging at your cunt, teasing your hungry pussy. Like he’s going to sink in and fill you up so full you can feel it in your throat, if you just ask nicely.

But he won’t. He teases your cunt just enough to make you shake, then he continues the slide to make the head of his cock kiss your clit. 

“You’re so mean,” you cry out, voice trembling as your pussy mouths hungrily at the touch of his cockhead. “Please, Sylus, I’m begging, please, please—”

Sylus grunts. His grip on your thighs gets tight, and you imagine you can see the veins in his forearm bulge. You imagine the way he’s frowning, brows taut as he grits his teeth and stares down at you like he wants to eat you alive. 

Restraint looks so ugly on him, you want to say, but the pressure against your pussy grows and your mouth drops open. It feels like some higher power is perched above the two of you, drawing the air from your lungs out, wisp by wisp, as your cunt opens up for the head of Sylus’ cock. 

“You don’t know how fucking good you look like this,” Sylus forces out, gripping you hard enough that it aches, that you know you’ll wake up with handprints on your outer thighs tomorrow. “Good enough to eat, sweetie. Just look at you.”

You open your eyes, hazily looking up. Sylus’ eye is glowing, glinting crimson through the dark, and there’s a ravenous look in his gaze. He looks down at you, searching your body, watching the bounce of your tits every time he fucks into you, the fat head of his cock slipping in just barely.

It’s not enough. There’s a gaping hole inside your pussy, so deep inside you that only Sylus’ full length can reach it to pummel it into submission. Even as you clench around the tip, your cunt mouthing hungrily at Sylus’ cockhead, it’s not enough.

“Just the tip,” Sylus groans, voice tight as he grinds the head of his cock into your pussy. “That’s all you’ll get for tonight.”

You arch your hips up, trying to force him to slip further into you. “More, I want more—”

He laughs breathlessly, hips stuttering when you tighten desperately around his cock. “Soon,” he promises, carefully fucking into you. Sylus keeps his word, feeding you just the tip and nothing else.

“You feel divine,” he murmurs, breathing heavily. The rhythm of his hips falter, a telltale sign that he’s losing control. He’s close, you think deliriously, and flex your pussy around his cock to pull him along at a faster rate. 

“Inside,” you moan, fingers blindly tracing down your body to find his hands, gripping his wrists. “Inside, inside, inside me,” you chant desperately.

“Want me to paint your pussy white?” Sylus coos, hips speeding up. The head of his cock pops in and out of your pussy, bullying its way past your throbbing hole to open you up just enough before he pulls back. It’s a horrible tease, and sometimes he moves too fast, too eager to sink his cockhead into the wet heat of your cunt and he misses. 

It makes him curse, eyes skimming down your body to fixate on your thighs. He watches you with the hungry intensity of a predator on a hunt—the shaking in your thighs, the way his slick cockhead peeks out from between your thighs, the way your chest squeezes tightly every time he grinds flatly along the swollen bump of your clit—

He slides back in your cunt, fucks in harshly, deeper than before, deep enough to make it feel like your breath’s been punched out of you.

Sylus’ cock throbs, pulses hotly inside you, and you can feel the spurts of cum against the walls of your cunt. 

The pooling heat of cum inside you is almost enough to make you tip over the edge. But your clit throbs insistently, demanding attention that Sylus refuses to give you. Your pussy clenches and unclenches tightly around Sylus’ cock, coaxing his orgasm out as he groans from the sensation. 

He holds himself tightly above you, refusing to fuck deeper or pull out. Sylus pants, the sound of his heavy breathing filling up the space around you as you try to catch your breath yourself, fingers still holding on to Sylus’ wrists. 

When he finally collects himself, his cock giving one last jerk inside your pussy, he leans down. Sylus’ face is right above yours, in painful clarity despite how dark the room is, and you look up at him with your heart thudding in your chest.

His gaze searches your face for a moment, then he smiles. 

“Good girl,” Sylus croons, and one of his hands leave your thighs. “Be obedient for a little bit more, and you’ll be rewarded at the end.”

“Twenty-four hours is way too lo—” your voice cracks, going high at the sudden touch of a thumb, wet with slickness, on your stiff clit. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, crimson gaze fixated on you. “Easy does it, sweetie. I’ll give you what you want.”

He brings you to the brink again, and again, and again, until you drift off to sleep from how worn out your body is.

==

© rrrrinmaru 2024 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[pricesprincess]

fat hyper feminine! reader | sugar baby! reader | sugar daddy! price | smut drabble maybe over 1k written on phone

sugar daddy price! who you meet one night at a bar when your date ditched you with the bill. he hasn't meant to listen in on the conversation but it was hard when you started crying.

sugar daddy price! can't stand when pretty girls cry, and well, you're the prettiest one he's seen so he pays the bill from his spot while watching.

you squirm in your seat as you wipe away your tears. it was embarrassing! you came in with someone who left you high and dry.

maybe it was a good thing because he wasn't full or really good looking as the man who approached you with a warm smile.

sugar daddy price! is smooth with his charm. "couldn't help but overhear love, what arse would leave such a pretty little thing hangin'?"

his words made you flush with heat as you shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. "no need to be shy bird, bet you'd sing really pretty 'f me."

your hand instantly shot up to the necklace you wore, the one given to you a few years back from someone important. "not shy." you hum.

sugar daddy price! takes the seat across from you and introduces himself and when you gave him your name he took your hand kissing it.

the restaurant already provided an intimate setting but now with him so close smelling so good and dressed in a three piece suit that screamed expensive it now felt more personal.

you looked so cute with pink glittery and glossy lips and the satin baby pink dress you wore hugging your curves and tits spilling out.

sugar daddy price! knows that you're going to be so sweet with how you respond, your giggles as he makes jokes and talks about his life.

he enjoys it when you leave over to listen more.

an hour later you end up on your back in his bed wrapped up in silken sheets as he sunk his cock into you over and over.

sugar daddy price! who loves when you squeal as his fat tip kisses your cervix, each thrust drove you up on the mattress as you clung to him.

your body was soft and pliant under him, the softness of your belly rubbed against the thick coarse hair as he fucked into you.

"shush pretty bird, takin' me so well love." his beard tickled you when he dipped his head down to nuzzle his face in your sweaty neck.

he had already riled you up in the car removing your panties and now your dress was bunched around your hips so he could fuck you properly.

sugar daddy price! loved the way your makeup was now a mess and how your tits were whisker burned and your nipples stiff throbbing peaks.

you cried out each time he bottomed out, his legs rubbed against yours, reminding you he was everywhere. his body pressed against yours and his mouth licking into you with hunger.

there was no escape from him after that night.

it's not like you wanted that anyway.

sugar daddy price! gifts you things off your wishlist he had you write down and makes sure to spend all his time with you no matter what.

somehow you end up moving into his house when after he had you in a mating press already fucked out promising you a lavish live.

sugar daddy price! promises to cherish and take care of you just as long as you're a good girl.

and oh, aren't you just the best?

comments and relogs with tags are really appreciated <3

[nadvs]

What if there is a new guy on Rafes team and he flirts with her on the court because he doesnt know that she is sleeping with Rafe.

omg YESSS rafe being jealous and claiming her even though they’re not even official 🤭

based on this fic! 18+!

when rafe’s coach told the team about the new transfer coming from state, he was impressed.

lucas semme is a pretty well-known player in college ball. rafe figured that he’d be a good addition to the team. he might even increase their chances of winning this year’s championship.

he has no problem with the new guy. until he does.

the first game lucas plays, they’re deep into the second quarter against the hawks when rafe notices it. the opposing team’s coach calls a time-out and rafe looks back at his guys to form a huddle. then he sees lucas looking over at the cheerleaders.

she’s laughing at something one of her friends just said and rafe notices lucas smiling as he looks at her. he sees red when lucas steps closer to the edge of the court, sparking a conversation with her.

“let’s go!” rafe shouts loudly. lucas’s eyes widen when he realizes his new captain is yelling directly at him.

the guys form a huddle on their side of the court and rafe immediately lays into the new guy.

“what the hell are you doing?” rafe mutters to lucas. “don’t talk to their cheerleaders.”

“sorry,” lucas says. “i didn’t know the rivalry was that serious.”

“it’s not about that,” one of the other players says in a low tone.

rafe shoots him a hard look and he laughs nervously. rafe talks game for the next minute, pointing out the opponents’ weaknesses, before the game resumes.

when they break, rafe overhears lucas get the rundown.

“just don’t talk to that cheerleader if you don’t want cameron to go ballistic,” he says.

rafe is glad they know what’s his. even though his relationship with her is strictly physical, she’s off limits to the guys on his team.

he can mess around with whoever he wants and so can she, but he tries not to think about the latter too much. and he doesn’t want any of his teammates to lay a damn finger on her.

after the game, rafe comes over to her dorm, his hair still wet from his shower.

“that was a good game,” she says when he enters her room. “what do you think of the new guy?”

“nothing special,” rafe mutters.

he’s usually passionate in bed, but it still takes her aback how aggressively and impatiently he starts to strip her clothes off. they’ve barely exchanged two sentences.

“someone’s eager,” she breathes as he tips his head to kiss her neck, her body going hot.

he almost wants to ask if she’s seeing any other guys. but ignorance is bliss in this case.

“put that skirt on,” rafe mutters against her skin, his hands dragging up her back.

“what?” she laughs.

“put it on.”

she lets him tell her what to do, slipping on her cheerleading skirt and wearing nothing else. he lays her down on her bed, hovering over her, his fingers in the fabric of the pleats of her skirt as it rests on her hips.

rafe is sure the new guy isn’t the only one who likes her, who imagines her naked. he bets his whole team would love a shot with her.

but as he pushes into her, both of them gasp in pleasure as soon as they meet, and he’s high on the feeling that only he gets her like this.

moments like these, he wants to tell her that she’s his, but he knows she’s not, so he only thinks it.

[peppermintquartz]

Josh sees Buck and Maddie in the break room and decides, heck it, he can inject himself into their sibling bonding time.

"Hello Buck, it's good to see you," Josh says, grabbing a chair and planting himself down before either of them can say anything. He opens his bento box - he's trying this whole thing, it's going okay so far but he's running out of ideas for foods - and says, "How is life treating you?"

"Pretty well, actually," Buck says with a coy smile.

Maddie snorts. She focuses on her sandwich and dino nuggets. "That's not what he was saying just now," she tells Josh, her pretty eyes twinkling.

Josh gasps theatrically. "Evan Buckley, am I not your friend? Am I unworthy of the truth?"

"Maddie!" Buck nudges his sister's hand with his own, a cute pout on his lips. Finally, he rolls his eyes and says, "Alright, fine. It's... kinda, uh, not great."

He looks a little dejected, even, but Maddie doesn't seem too concerned, so Josh aims for the middle with his response. "What's the matter?"

"I kinda wanna...sndsmnstotommy." The last words are so mumbled that the only thing Josh makes out is "Tommy".

Josh is a great listener. He is literally a professional at listening to people. "What was that?"

Buck rolls his eyes and plops his chin on his hands on the table. "I wanna send some pictures to my boyfriend."

"Hot pilot boyfriend," Maddie says, fanning herself.

"I'll take your word for it," Josh says, having only seen photos of him in dirty turnouts and mussed hair.

Buck frowns at them. "He is hot. Look." Unlocking his phone, he swipes through some pictures. "See?"

"Oh, he is very hot." Josh is happy to be proven wrong by a picture of a buff older man in a tight navy blue tank top and jeans, with smears of engine grease on his very muscular arms and a smudge over his cheek. That profile alone... There has to be some sort of deity smiling down on the Buckleys, giving them incredibly handsome partners after their shitty childhoods.

Buck sighs dreamily as he gazes at the picture. "Yeah. I haven't seen him for more than twenty minutes at a stretch for nearly three weeks." His pout returns at full force. "Dumb wildfires. I am declaring them homophobic and biphobic."

Josh pets Buck on the head in sympathy. "So you wanna send him pictures? I bet you have lots of nice ones with Maddie and Jee and your friends."

"Not that sort," Buck says, his cheeks flushing.

Then Josh gets it. "Ah, nudes. Good and reliable communication methods for long distance relationships."

Buck buries his face in his hands, but the tips of his ears are still bright red.

Laughing now, Maddie ruffles the curls on top of his head. "I can't give you much advice since I don't get sent nudes," she says, giggling, "and I wouldn't know what a gay man would like to see, so why don't you pick Josh's brains here?"

Josh beams at Maddie. "I like this assignment."

"He's taken, remember that," Maddie warns, wagging a finger at her friend as she heads to the sink to wash her hands.

Josh puts on a wounded air. "I don't poach. And I give great advice." He returns his attention to Buck and says gleefully, "Alright, first things first: is your Tommy a legs guy, an ass guy or a chest guy?"

Buck lifts his head enough to glare at him. "I'm not gonna gossip about him with you."

"Fine. Spoilsport. Anyway, post workout selfies sans shirt, always a winner. Low angle shots up your torso, especially since you are built like a fridge, that should work too. Oh, post-shower photos when your skin is all scrubbed and pink? Highly recommend." Josh lowers his voice and says, "Dick pics are really good if you don't show all of it, keep him wanting more, but make sure to encrypt them if you can, and warn him to go somewhere private so he doesn't open them in company."

Buck hides his face again, but then he takes a deep breath and sits straight up once more. He seems determined not to look directly at Josh, however. "Thank you."

Grinning, Josh digs into his bento. "You're welcome. Now, tell me what you're willing to share about your boyfriend. Oh, and welcome to this side of the rainbow by the way. I'm very proud of you."

Buck does look at him now and ducks his head shyly. "Thanks." He licks his lips (Josh doesn't think too much about those lips) and starts saying, "Well, Tommy's a pilot at the 217..."

[amongemeraldclouds]

imgonnagetyouback

Mattheo Riddle should have known better than to break your heart. Now he was about to get everything he deserved.

Warning: fluff, angst but has a happy ending, no use of y/n. Has a subplot of you being a bet.

✿ Masterlist | TTPD Masterlist | 2.8k words

Mattheo Riddle should have known better than to break your heart. It was his fault, really, that the loud explosion from an innocent little box sprayed green glitter above him and across his dorm. He had it coming.

By the time you made it to the doorway, glitter rained down on Mattheo, Theo, and Enzo like a fairy tale gone wrong. One where the prince betrayed the princess so she had to redefine her happy ever after. Right now, it was revenge served with sparkles.

You watched as Mattheo coughed out glitter and it glistened as it fell. You couldn’t suppress the snicker that escaped your lips and his focus shot straight at you, eyes burning with rage. 

“Love the new look,” you grinned, “let me guess, inspired by fairies?”

Mattheo strode over to you, leaving a trail of glitter behind him. “If you love it so much, why don’t you come here and get glitter all over your—”

Enzo smacked the back of his head. Flecks of glitter fell from his head to his clothes at the motion like a shiny pepper shaker. Salazar, it was going to take weeks to clean it all out. “Language,” he warned Mattheo.

“I didn’t even say anything,” Mattheo shot back, glaring at Enzo.

You rolled your eyes. Once upon a time, you may have smiled at Enzo and seen him as a knight in shining armor. But that armor had long rusted since that cursed evening. He was just as guilty as Mattheo was.

“The only thing I need from any of you tossers is for karma to explode in your face,” you paused for effect. “Oh wait, it just did. I didn’t realize karma looked so shiny!” You waved at the air for emphasis then spun on your heel and cackled as you walked away. Perhaps you were never meant to be the princess in the fairy tale, but rather the evil witch. You could hardly care. Revenge felt good.

There was a spring to your step and excitement buzzed in your veins. It worked so much better than you thought! Fred and George would be so pleased to learn their prototype was a success. You were going to tip them extra when you returned to their store. After all, you were just getting started.  

A few weeks ago

It all ended one quiet evening. You approached Mattheo’s dorm to surprise him with a batch of freshly baked cookies, his favorite, when you overheard a conversation about a bet. You rolled your eyes, unable to hide the fond smile that lit up your face. There was always some type of mischief or another when it came to the boys.

You were no longer smiling when you heard your name, your hand frozen halfway to knocking on the door.

“…five weeks is a new record for you, who would have thought?” Enzo said.

“Are you sure you didn’t trick her into giving you some type of love potion?” Theo added.

You waited for your boyfriend to defend you, but instead he praised himself.

“And you tossers thought I couldn’t do it,” he huffed, “it was only too easy.”

Tears pricked your eyes and you kicked the door open, enraged. “Had your laugh? Thought this was fun?” You strode in, anger and hurt bubbling up from within you. You tore the container free and hurled warm cookies onto them, crumbs spraying in the air as they fell.

All eyes turned to you, wide and horrified. You weren’t supposed to find out. Mattheo opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out.

“It’s my turn then, we’ll see who has the last laugh,” you said, storming off as you finally let your tears rain down on your cheeks.

It was bad enough that you risked it all for Mattheo. You fell for his puppy dog eyes that you held for the first time when you chanced upon him at the Astronomy Tower. He was drunk on melancholy, his tongue loose from one too many shots of fire whiskey. You wanted nothing more than to wrap this precious boy before you with warmth and a kindness he never knew. He shared things with you that it seemed he didn’t tell anyone else.

He sought you out the next day to apologize and you assured him there was nothing to be sorry for. Still, he insisted on making it up to you by taking you out for a meal. It didn’t take long for one meal to turn into two and then more than you could count. Evenings spent in the Astronomy Tower or beneath cozy blankets. Weekend adventures and future plans. Gone.

You always knew love was a gamble. After all, there were so many ways to break one’s heart. But without taking risks, you’d never win the jackpot so you rolled the dice and traded your heart away. Only Mattheo bet on you with money to his friends. You were only a bet. Guess he didn’t have a heart to gamble with in the first place.

Now the storm raged within you, thunder clapping and rain pounding. Outside, crickets chirped in the still, quiet air as you walked off.

“Do you think the cookies on the floor are still edible?” Enzo asked, his voice fading by the second. You heard someone hit him playfully. “Ow!” He exclaimed.

Mattheo didn’t come after you.

Present

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Pansy raised her eyebrow at you in your shared dorm. “Just the other night, you were drunk and very nearly went to Mattheo to—”

“Well now I’m sober,” you declared, not wanting to hear any more. Liquor, it seems, had a way of bringing out the truth and leading you down embarrassing paths. You cursed your thoughtless heart for still feeling longing, desire, love. Instead you reminded yourself of the consequences: ache, regret, sadness. You have had enough.

“I’m finally back to my senses thanks to your help. I swear, tie me next time to the bed if I ever do that again.”

“Kinky, I like it,” she waggled her eyebrows and you threw a pillow at her, joining her laughter. “Did Mattheo ever do that to you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you replied, trying to stay on topic. “The only thing I want to do to Mattheo now is hit him.”

She continued, “Sure, hit him with your lips and suffocate him with your—”

“I don’t even want to hear the end of your sentence!” You shot up and out of bed, nose crinkled and eyebrows drawn together. You tried your hardest to look disgusted even though she was correct and you hated yourself for it.

“Besides,” you said, addressing her initial question, “I already did! Let’s go see!”

“Efficient as always,” she shook her head, picking up her bag and following you to class.

You kept your evil cackle to yourself this time as you neared the classroom where you spotted Mattheo walking ahead, his brown curls now dyed in dark, forest green.

You matched his pace, walking beside him then turned to him, “green hair suits you, trying to be the new Slytherin mascot?”

He mirrored your grin, trying to tamp down his annoyance, “just showing off my house pride.”

You smirked and walked ahead, joining Pansy once more and laughing together. He may not admit it, but you noticed the clench in his jaw that only ever happened when he was annoyed. He may not have cared about what others thought of him, but it bothered him that you snuck up on him with hair dye in his shampoo and got him back.

“Stop looking at her with heart eyes!” Enzo exclaimed as he smacked the back of Mattheo’s head.

“I’m not. You’re looking at her with heart eyes and stop hitting me,” he said.

“Did the chemicals seep into your brain too?” Enzo shook his head.

“It’s not my fault a girl on a revenge mission is attractive,” Mattheo replied, unconsciously biting his lower lip.

“Just go and make up with her already or we won’t know peace,” Theo chimed in, brushing some of the lingering glitter off his robe for emphasis. “You clearly still like her.”

Mattheo’s eyebrows knit together as he considered it. He longed to apologize and he missed you, but he had been too ashamed. He thought perhaps by now, your revenge plans had quelled your anger. Turning it over in his head, he knew just how he could get you back.

You snuck into the potions room, still deciding whether to brew an itching potion or a hair fall potion for your next prank. Fred and George had taught you a few things you were excited to try. You were so focused on the ingredients that it took you a second to react to the lock that clicked behind you. You turned around, that wasn’t supposed to—

You took a step back in shock when you realized it was Mattheo who locked the door. 

“Is my hair really that hideous?” He asked, choking out a chuckle in all his green haired glory.

“Go do your mascot duties out there,” you pointed at the door, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“You sure I can’t instill some house pride in you?” He said suggestively and you hated the way your body still reacted to him, electric with anticipation.

“Riddle, I swear—” you began, pointing your wand out to him.

He held his hands up, “stop, wait! I’m here to apologize. I’m sorry. It started out as a bet, that evening in the Astronomy Tower, but then the lines blurred somewhere along the way. Salazar, I can’t even point out when you took over my world. Perhaps from the very start. You were not what I expected.”

You clapped slowly, interrupting him. It was one heck of a performance. 

“Please, you have to believe me,” he huffed desperately. “Use the Legilimency spell on me!”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” you shot back stubbornly though you couldn’t deny the curiosity that crept in your mind.

“If it will get you to believe me,” he said, calmer this time.

“I don’t want to, I can’t do that to you,” you whispered. You knew he was not comfortable with the spell. His father had used it on him one too many times, violating his privacy and sense of safety. For him to even offer it meant a lot. It was annoying that you still cared for him. 

“It’s okay” he assured you, wrapping both his hands around your hand that still held the wand, his eyes burning into yours. “I want you to take a look. It doesn’t have to change anything. If you still hate me afterwards, you can feed me laxatives or I’ll even shave my hair bald for you. Just see and then I’ll unlock the door.”

“Fine,” you sighed, giving in. At the very least you would get closure, which was more than you thought you could get. “But you will have to shave your head if I still hate you after this.”

“Anything for you,” he replied, “if you want, I’ll even shave my—”

“I don’t need to hear it!” You held your hand up, interrupting him.

He laughed wholeheartedly. Salazar, he missed you. “I was going to say my eyebrows, you perv,” he quipped.

You raised your wand in annoyance and cast the spell. You did not need him to be charming and ridiculous, it was calming the storm within you. You could not afford to hear him calling you ‘easy’ once again.

Bright light exploded around you as the spell took effect and images blurred past as you sifted through his memories.

It started that evening on the Astronomy Tower. He knew you went there every evening at a certain time and so he waited for you. He drank more than he should have, always pushing his boundaries. He meant to be charming and flirty, instead he found himself sharing pieces of his soul with you. With your kind smile and sincere eyes, you made it so easy for him.

He always thought it would send people running, but your feet were firmly planted on the floor and you leaned into him, each word he uttered was cradled in your warmth. You were a safe space he never knew could exist.

It was the spark that set his whole world ablaze with joy and desire. You saw him wake up the next day and his first string of thoughts were about you. He wondered if you slept well, what you dreamt of. Then he saw you across the hall, smiling with your friends and his mind went blank. When your face lit up, he felt warm and gooey inside, like his favorite cookies. You realized then they were his favorite not just because of its delicious flavor, but because eating them always reminded him of how he felt for you.

When he watched you walk the opposite direction, his breath caught in his throat. He watched the hemline of your skirt brush the back of your leg and he was disappointed with how long it was. He needed it higher. He wanted to drag you into an empty classroom and bend you over so—

“Okay, I don’t need to hear that! I get the picture,” you told him.

“Fine, fast forward to that night,” he urged you. You hesitated, but you had already gone this far so you did as he asked. Dread sank in the pit of your stomach.

There they were, from Mattheo’s point of view this time. The conversation replayed again, its sharp edges biting into your heart once more.

“And you tossers thought I couldn’t do it,” he huffed, “it was only too easy.” He wasn’t talking about you after all, not in the way you thought.

At that moment, you felt the warm, gooey sweetness in his chest once again. He thought it was so easy to be with you that five weeks felt like nothing. He wanted more, needed more time with you. He didn’t even want to take any money from the stupid bet. You were more than any reward he could ever get.

Then you stepped in and he watched cookies fly in the air before they fell on the ground. Your eyes were glazed over with shock and betrayal and he was too embarrassed to say anything. Shame and regret kept him rooted on the ground as he watched you stomp on a cookie as you exited.

You pulled back from his thoughts, zooming out and back into your body. You took a step back trying to balance yourself and Mattheo held a hand to your shoulder to steady you. “I really am sorry, I hope you know now.” He looked at you with his puppy dog eyes and it took everything within you to keep yourself from flinging your arms around him. Not yet.

“Now I know,” you echoed dryly. “Time for you to shave your head then you can leave me alone.”

His eyes widened a fraction before he caught himself, dejected. True to his word he turned back and took out the key, inserting it into the lock. He was about to leave his safe place for good. The warm, gooey feelings would soon grow cold and he would lose you. No. He stood up straighter and held his head high, turning to you.

“You know what? No, I’m not taking no for an answer. You can hate me all you want and I’ll shave my head. Do whatever ridiculous thing you plan in that evil, beautiful brain of yours but I’m staying and I’m fighting for you until you take me back.”

You smirked. “How do you feel about itching potions?”

“Eh,” he shrugged. “They’re annoying, but I’ll survive.” His eyes narrowed then, realization dawning on him. “Wait, does this mean you’ll take me back? Is that what you’re saying?” He asked hopefully.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” You raised an eyebrow.

His mouth widened to a grin. “No,” he quickly said before he ran and charged towards you, engulfing you in a hug. In his excitement, he lifted you off the ground and twirled you around. You laughed at his eagerness. Perhaps there was a happy ending to this fairy tale after all.

The next day, you ignored the curious stares and hushed whispers that trailed you as you walked down the hallway. Let them talk. You strolled into the Great Hall, head held high.

Mattheo’s eyes widened when he saw you approach and you just smiled as you slid beside him on the seat he saved for you.

“You dyed your hair forest green like mine!” He exclaimed.

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun, huh?” You nudged him, lightly poking your elbow into his rib. 

His face lit up with a smile that could rival a hundred Lumos spells cast at the same time.

Mattheo sure was an idiot with his green hair and sparkly robe, but he was your idiot and now the entire school knew it too. You two may have looked ridiculous, but you’d do it together like everything else. Just two idiots in love.

✿ Masterlist | TTPD Masterlist

A/N: So glad I got over my writing slump and completed this two weeks since I started. Yay!

[baigepueckers]

Caitlin Clark X Reader

Love on the Back Nine

You’re sitting at the kitchen table with your phone buzzing in your hand as you scroll through your messages. You’d made plans earlier to hit the mall with a friend but they just canceled at the last minute, leaving you with an empty afternoon. You sigh already silently debating whether to just stay in or come up with something else to do.

Cait has been pacing around the living room, messing with her golf gear when she catches your sigh. She looks over her eyes lighting up as if a lightbulb just went off in her head.

“Plans fall through?” she asks walking over and leaning on the back of the chair across from you.

“Yeah” you reply, setting your phone down. “Guess I’m stuck here now.”

“Stuck here?” Caitlin grins like she’s been waiting for this opening. “Or… you could come golfing with me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not this again.”

“Come on” she says circling the table to stand beside you. “It’s perfect! You’ve got nothing else to do, and I’ve got a tee time. Plus I need a partner.”

You arch a brow at her. “Partner? Or someone to show off for?”

“Baby, I would never show off.” she says, though the twinkle in her eyes suggests otherwise. She leans down..her face close to yours. “I’ll be your personal coach. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. It’ll be fun, just you and me.”

You snort. “You’re gonna be my personal golfer girl?...”

“Yep, that’s what I’m here for!” she says, straightening up. “I’ll start you off slow. Show you how to hold the club, line up your shots by the end of the day, you’ll be killing it.”

You tilt your head, amused. “And if I’m awful?”

She places a hand over her heart, her voice turning sweet. “Then I’ll still love you, even if you’re the worst golfer in history.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “I don’t know…”

“Please, baby?” Caitlin moves behind you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and resting her chin on top of your head. “It’ll be a cute little date. Just us, cruising around in a golf cart soaking up the sun. I’ll even let you pick the music for the ride.”

You glance up at her. “The entire playlist?”

She grimaces but nods. “Even your cringy guilty pleasure songs.”

You bite your lip pretending to reconsider. “Tempting...”

“Fine…what if I throw in ice cream after?” she adds, giving you her best puppy dog eyes. “I’ll even let you pick the place.”

You laugh finally giving in. “Okay baby, but I call driving the golf cart!”

Caitlin beams, pressing a kiss to your cheek before pulling you up from your chair. “Whatever… you’re gonna love it, I promise.”

The drive to the course is filled with Caitlin’s nonstop chatter. She’s clearly hyped, between explaining the different clubs and teasing you about being a great coach. “I bet you’ll nail at least one shot today” she says with a wink. “And when you do, I’ll totally take credit for it.”

You shake your head and laugh. “Sure, Coach Clark.”

When you arrive Cait wastes no time, guiding you through the basics. She hands you a club and positions herself behind you, her hands gently adjusting your grip. “Okay babe, so just relax” she says, her voice low and soothing. “Keep your eye on the ball, and follow through like this.”

You nod letting her guide you for the first few swings. The shots are decent, but nothing impressive. Caitlin cheers you on regardless, offering tips and encouragement with every swing. You can tell she’s enjoying herself, and honestly you’re having fun with her. But then it’s your turn to take a real shot.

You step up lining up your stance and gripping the club just right. You take a deep breath, then swing with confidence. The ball soars through the air landing cleanly on the green.

Caitlin’s jaw drops. “Wait, what?”

You suppress a grin as she rushes over to you. “That was perfect!” she says, wide eyed. “Do it again.”

You shrug pretending it was a fluke, but your next shot is just as good. Caitlin stares at you, clearly in disbelief. “Okay seriously babe….where did this come from?”

You bite your lip, hesitating for a moment before dropping the bomb. “Well… my ex taught me...”

Caitlin freezes her expression shifting from shock to a mix of disgust and mild jealousy. “Your ex?”

You nod, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, they made me go to the driving range almost every other weekend.”

She groans dramatically throwing her head back. “Ew, Y/N! Why would you tell me that?”

“You asked!” you say laughing at her reaction.

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect that answer,” she grumbles crossing her arms. “Now I’m picturing some loser trying to impress you on the course. Gross.”

You grin stepping closer. “Jealous?”

“No” she says quickly, though the slight flush in her cheeks tells a different story. “I just think it’s weird that anyone else ever got to teach you anything. That’s my job.”

You wrap your arms around her waist pulling her close. “Well baby, for what it’s worth…I like being out here with you way more.”

She softens, her pout fading into a smile. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me now and for the record, I’m way cooler than your ex.”

“Oh, way cooler,” you agree leaning in to kiss her.

For the rest of the game Cait makes it her mission to outdo you…though she can’t help but laugh whenever you land another perfect shot. By the end of the day she’s both impressed and annoyed.

“You totally hustled me, darlin..” she says as you load the clubs back into the car.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you sweat a little” you tease grinning.

She wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you walk. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You lean into her smiling. “And you’re lucky I love you, even when you’re a sore loser.”

She laughs squeezing you tighter against. “Next time I’m bringing my A-game so you better be ready.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready.”

[mrs-hatake]

How JJK Men Hold Your Chin

Warnings: MDI!!! yandere behavior, obsessiveness, manipulation, dacryphilia, over protectiveness, human sacrifice, mentioned assassination, foul language, female reader, HUMAN!sukuna

A/N: i kinda went overboard with sukuna lmao. credits are in the pics! also, shoutout to my soulmate who encouraged me to write and publish this luv u 🥹

Toji:

Toji’s eyes shoot open when the soft rattle of the window opening fills the bedroom. Whoever decided to ambush Toji, in own home no less, is doing a piss poor job at it. The number rule of breaking and entering is that you need to be as quiet as the dead…Or make sure you aren’t breaking into a room where the occupants of the house are in. 

He doesn’t move, makes sure to keep his breathing deep and even as his ears focus on the soft thud across from his bed. The gentle rustle of feet on carpet is thundering. It makes Toji wonder which sorry idiot decided to attack him. He lies still. Waiting.

Toji senses a presence behind his back. The stare of the invader doesn’t feel oppressive but more hesitant. Big mistake. Waiting a heartbeat before striking, Toji quickly has the criminal pinned under him on the bed. A terrified screech stabs sharply in his ears, ringing like an alarm clock.

Leaning over, Toji harshly tugs on the string of the desk lamp on the nightstand. Dim yellow light floods the corner of the room where Toji’s bed is placed. 

With the darkness gone, Toji’s eyebrow quirks at the sight below him. A pair of eyes stare at him in a vacuous stupor, their lips formed into a silent ‘o’ shape. 

Toji blinks down at the frightened woman. 

She blinks back. 

Whoever sent her his way is a freaking dumbass. Aside from the fear drowning in her eyes, incompetence screamed at him. How did his enemies expect to dispose of him with someone as weak as her?

Lost in his thought, the woman raises her leg and tries to kick Toji off of her. Luckily, Toji’s reflexes are as sharp as a cat's and dodges the attack. He yanks her leg down before pressing all of his weight on it, trapping her.

“Don’t kill me.” The woman pleads and it forces Toji’s head to tilt to the side in confusion.

“You’re here to kill me.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing, “It’s only fair I defend myself.”

His words strike a nerve. The woman begins to frantically shake her head, jostling Toji with her movement. “Please.” She whispers repeatedly like a broken record. 

Having had enough, and with the exhaustion from today’s mission catching up to him, Toji’s large and calloused hand grabs the woman’s chin, successfully suspending her thrashes. 

The tip of his thumb is brushing the edge of the woman’s chapped lip. The two, caught in a daze, are silent. 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you?” Toji’s voice drops to a murmur, his already deep voice growing deeper.

The woman continues to stare at him but there’s something calculative in her eyes, as if she’s determined the best course of action. Whatever she finds, melts the tension from her. Her form relaxes under Toji but he still maintains his weight on her. It could be a trap after all. Waiting for him to drop his guard down before she strikes. Toji has been in the business for so long that such a childish trick is insulting.

“I’ll tell you who hired me.” The woman's breath comes out shaken, broken.

Toji contemplates her answer before shaking his head, “Not enough.” 

His response doesn’t deter the woman. In fact, it strengthened her resolve.  “Not just the organization I work with but several of them. It’s like a betting ring.” She explains, her eyes hard, unafraid to meet him. 

Toji thinks. People wanting him dead isn’t something new but that doesn’t mean he has the free time to hunt down every single one of them. However, what the woman says next sends a chill down his spine.

“They’re coming after your son.”

Her statement is a bullet shot straight to his heart. If what this woman is saying is true, then he needs to take her word for it.

“If you’re lying,” Toji’s grip on the woman’s chin is unforgivable, “I will kill you and your pathetic family.” he spits before letting go. 

Satoru:

The woman is panting harshly as she leans against the metal pillar at the underground train station. The ruckus of the coming and goings of the people blend into the background until it’s nothing but a gentle hum. She swallows her dried throat, thick and heavy, gathering whatever moisture to nourish the muscle. The woman’s back presses against the pillar as her eyes close shut. Greedily, she sucks air into her lungs. 

Weakly, her eye opens and it darts frantically across the station until it lands on the departure board. The orange LED lights glaring harshly at her. Still, the woman squints as she reads the list and the corresponding time. Her train leaves in less than half an hour. She’s exhausted. Her legs are screaming at her from her earlier run and throat is begging for water. But the woman pushes through.

With one final deep inhale, the woman pushes herself and makes her way to the platform where her train will arrive in ten minutes. 

The woman hasn’t taken a single step forward when a voice wells up a wave of acid deep from within her belly. 

“Found you.”  A voice she once associated with reverence has her recoiling in horror.

Inchmeal, the woman turned.

Gojo Satoru is standing in front of her. Despite the gentle smile on his lips, Satoru’s blue eyes are as wild as a stormy sea, raging and fervent.

A blink and Satoru’s hand is cupping the woman’s cheek in a tight embrace. She winces at the pain, reaches her hand to wrap around Satoru’s wrist and tugs it away to no avail. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Satoru sighs as if she is some naughty child, “It’s cute that you think you can run away from me.” 

The woman’s eyes pleads Satoru, begs him to let her go, set her free, but Satoru is blind. 

With a powerful pull, Satoru yanks the woman into an embrace. His muscled arms trapped her in an unbreakable cage. 

“Let’s go home.” Instead of Satoru’s whisper resembling a kitten’s soothing licks, it feels like a spider crawling up her throat.

Nanami:

Warm hues of orange and pink spreading across the sky is the last thing the woman sees before her eyes shut close. She doesn’t scream as she falls to her death. Her descent is calm, freeing in a morbid sense. Though the curse is still rampaging the abandoned hospital, terrorizing the second year students, the woman accepts her demise with a serene smile. 

The impact she has been embracing for doesn’t come to her. Well, not in the way she had imagined numerous times whenever the woman is sent off on a mission. Instead, a firm but pliable object breaks her fall. 

Cinnamon and black coffee invades her senses. A roaring heartbeat echoes in her ears but before the woman can open her eyes, she is gently put on her feet.

“How can you be so careless?” A voice growling in her direction forces the woman’s eyes to open.

Blinking the black spots from her vision, the woman lifts her gaze from the ground to where Nanami Kento is standing just a few feet away from her. His muscles are stiff and his lips are pressed together in anger.

Oh shit.

“What were you thinking?” Kento continues, uncaring of how his voice is increasing in volume but the woman is shell shocked. Not from the fall but from the fact that, in the years she has known Nanami Kento, is losing his cool.

“I’m fine.” The woman sighs in exhaustion as her hands dusts her outfit free of dirt. She notices in her peripheral vision the second year students delivering the final blow to the curse spirit, their cheer turning into horrified groans when the curse exploded into tiny little pieces and it covered them with neon green goo. “I had it under control.”

Kento rolls his eyes, “Like hell you were.”

Worn out and oddly hungry, the woman turns away from her livid colleague. “I don’t have time for this.” she mutters.

“We’re not done talking.” Kento calls after her but the woman doesn’t meet his dark eyes, raging with an uncontrollable fire.

Just as the woman is turning to leave, Kento’s massive hand cups her chin and forcefully pulls her to face him.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Kento seethes through clenched teeth. His thumb on the apple of her left cheek presses deeply into the supple skin, almost bruising.

The woman’s jaw clenches, the muscles flexing underneath Kento’s fingers on her right cheek. Her piercing gaze is unyielding but Nanami Kento doesn’t back down.

“Don’t you dare do that again.” Though Kento’s tone is cold and disapproving, the woman hears the concern loud and clear. 

“Answer me.” He barks with the authority of a man who should not be challenged. 

“I won’t.” The woman responds in a strained voice. 

Geto:

The woman’s eyes are large and rimmed with tears as she meets irises colored in vibrant amethyst.

The man returns her gaze with feigned kindness and condescending pity. His hands cupping her cheeks are warm and they light a fire in her belly. His thumbs are slightly rough with callouses but they are gentle as they wipe away stray tears. Soft lips kiss the woman’s forehead, their velvety touch is soothing, imbued with a delicate tenderness that has the woman melting like putty in his arms. 

“Now, be a good little girl and do as you’re told.” Geto Suguru’s voice is rich with sweetness and has a velvety timbre, resembling a bitter drink with traces of sugar. It has a propitiating quality to it that embraces the woman in a sense of tranquility.

“Suguru.” The woman hiccups, vision blurred with unshed tears. 

Suguru coos, the sound echoing that of a mother worrying over her child after waking up from a nightmare. He leans in, slowly and tenderly as if to not frighten her off, and licks each tear trail from each cheek.

“Suguru?” The woman sputters, her eyebrows furrowing in bewilderment as she tries to process what just happened. 

Though the soft smile Suguru gives her radiates warmth, there’s a subtle glimmer in his eyes that hints at something the woman can’t recognize but it fills her with dread. 

“There, there.” Suguru whispers gently, his hands still cupping her cheeks. His fingers are wet with tears but the fact doesn’t bother him.

“This will all be over soon.”

Sukuna:

Sukuna’s hibernation is interrupted by cacophonous ceremonial chants reverberating from the forest below.

Year after year, Sukuna has reprimanded the villagers for their never ending harassment. They mistake his cursed lineage as an entity to protect his village when, in reality, the Ryomen clan was cursed by the Gojo clan three hundred years ago for violating the peace treaty because one member from the branch family decided to be a cocky little shit and terrorize humans and now Sukuna has to suffer the consequences. 

Every first day of spring, the villagers leave animal caracases at the mouth of his cave to satiate his hunger. When that didn’t work, the villagers sent wooden crates filled to the brim with glimmering gold coins and a crown decorated in sparkling diamonds to persuade Sukuna in blessing their harvest. Stupid villagers and their stupid myths. If they had bothered to open a history book, they would have discovered that Ryomen Sukuna is just as human as any of them. The only difference is that part of the Gojo clan’s punishment was to inject every member of the Ryomen clan with poison into their bloodstream that altered their genetic composition. Instead of having two arms and two eyes like everyone else, the Ryomens now have four arms and four eyes. Oh, and an additional mouth on their belly.

A satisfied moan falls from his mouths when his muscles pop as he stretches his four arms high into heaven. Scratching his side with one of his hands, Sukuna trudges to the mouth of the caves and watches with complete boredom as those fools travel the winding path leading to his habitat. Glancing at the sun, Sukuna figures it’ll take them another hour before they arrive. 

When the villagers do arrive, they wordlessly leave their sacrifice at the cave entrance and leave, just as silent and unnerving. 

With nothing better to do, Sukuna humors the villagers and steps out of his stifling home.

Despite it being early spring, the weather is still warm but the air has a certain bite to it. Not enough to warrant thicker garment but enough to appreciate the cool breeze caressing Sukuna’s skin.

Stepping outside, Sukuna comes to a sudden halt. His four eyes blink before they glance around the forest, searching for a glimpse of the villagers who will explain what this year’s present is. 

Below him, just a few meters away from his feet, is a woman lying on her side. She is dressed in all white and her hair is fixed in a complicated updo. Gems dangle with each blow from the wind and Sukuna’s nose picks up the hints of honey and vanilla.

Sukuna’s thick fingers massage the spot between his eyes while his two arms cross in front of his stomach, pressing against his mouth.

Great, just great. Those idiots brought him a human sacrifice this year for whatever fucked up reason. Sighing, long and heavily, he picks up the unconscious woman and carries her into his cave.

It’s around nightfall when Sukuna hears soft groans coming from his bed. His upper right arm is stroking the fire to life while his lower right arm throws wood into the fire pit. His stomach has been growling for the past hour and his tongue keeps licking the curve of his belly button. If Sukuna will ever have the chance to fight the infamous Gojo Satoru, he wants to inject him with the same poison just so he can understand the hell Sukuna’s been through. 

“You’re awake.” Sukuna’s voice cuts into the night air, deep and smooth. 

The woman freezes on the bed and takes a moment to gather her thoughts before pushing herself into a sitting position. 

When the woman turns to face him, Sukuna’s two pairs of red eyes roam over the woman’s face that’s painted with soft makeup to enhance her beauty. 

“Greetings, Sukuna-sama.” The woman greets him in a luscious voice, no doubt a skill taught to her by the elderly women of the village. Sukuna resists rolling his eyes at their stupidity. Instead, he tosses the iron rod aside and saunters to his bed. 

Though the woman bows her head in submission, her form lowered in a beautiful arch, Sukuna can see her trembling in her place. After all, Sukuna cuts an intimidating figure. Not just with his additional limbs and eyes but also with his height; totaling at two hundred centimeters. It's a small wonder she is frightened. 

An index finger that is as long and slender as the iron rod hooks under the woman’s chin and tilts it upward to face him. 

A soft hum emits from Sukuna, “The villagers have outdone themselves with this year’s sacrifice," his finger glides down her neck, "heh, they must be desperate to please me.”

The woman says nothing. Her eyes are lidded and they are clouded in something that Sukuna cannot discern but they add to her charm. Flames flicker to life in Sukuna, sparking intense desire that burns through him like wildfire.

“I’ll take good care of you.” Sukuna vows, his voice lowering into a hummed whisper, each word heavy with yearning and licentiousness.

[lovscb97]

synopsis: nerd!chan headcannons. that’s it. that’s the tweet.

tags: nerd!chan x cheerleader!fem!reader, fluff, meet cute, nerd!chan being in love, mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, nerd!chan being an inexperienced cutie, etc

wc: 1.48k

add. notes: while you guys wait for nerd!chan pt. 2 as i need to complete writing it and cannot really Do that w/ my current busy schedule (im nearing the end of first sem so i have lots of assignments #sad), i thought i’d treat u guys to some headcannons about him in the nerd!chan universe :3 enjoy!

pt. 1 / pt. 2 (coming soon!)

. . . 

#one. meeting you for the first time

chan has always been a shy kid. he doesn’t stray from his introverted bubble of close friends that he’s either grown up with or gotten to know through extra-curriculars, nor does he ever participate in social activities like parties the way most people in his university do. it’s his firm belief that he has no means to engage in stuff that will, in his words, lower his intelligence and distract him from his studies. he’s perfectly content remaining the way he is; a social outcast (according to changbin at least), because at the least in that sense he’s gaining something from not wallowing in alcohol every other night.

you, on the other hand, are actively always taking part in gatherings as such, having fun with your cheer girls and drinking to drown out the bitter reality of life (although you’d never admit that out loud). it’s your firm belief that college is for letting loose and having fun before entering the corporate world, and what better way to do that than to grind against strangers and throw away all your responsibilities for a night (or ten)? you don’t have too much regard for your studies, but you do have a strong policy on your social life.

it’s because of these reasons that in terms of both hierarchy and hobbies, you and chan couldn’t be any more different. you’re two sides of two separate coins, and if you were to swap lifestyles, you’re sure neither of your friends would recognise you both. what he likes, you loathe, and what you like, he loathes. so why did you do mesh so well? why did you two even begin this charade? 

and how in the everloving fuck did chan even get to know you in the first place? 

it all started before the first day of the first semester. orientation was about to finish right around the corner, and everyone was obviously buzzing with excitement on commencing their first term in university. one guy made the mistake of mentioning throwing a party at some nearby club, and it quickly spread to the entire group of first year students. naturally, it spread to you and your friend group, and it also just happened to spread to the small circle of chan’s best friends, who dragged his ass to the party the day of despite his incessant complaining that he wanted nothing to do with what was happening.

that was, until he saw you.

you’d had one too many shots to drink, stumbling into the balcony after having been separated from your friends and coincidentally landing up where chan just so happened to be admiring the scenery. he’d caught you in his arms as you lost your footing, heart racing and ears reddening at the sound of your drunk giggles. “i bet you’re a ladies man.” you’d teased him, raising a finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, which only made him stutter even more. 

your friends eventually did come to find you and take you back with them, barely even batting an eye at chan who tried to make sure you were being cared for properly as his pleas and tips on handling a hangover the next day fell upon deaf ears. and when jisung and changbin came up to find him, he was completely out of it, stuck in a daze as he repeated all the random information about yourself that you’d rambled to him in his head. he’d pressed a single hand to his chest whilst ignoring his friend’s questions about what the hell he was doing, instead focusing on the feeling the rapid rhythmic beating of his heart under his palm.

it was that night, that chan's love for the moon transcended to his love for you.

#two. kissing you for the first time

chan is just as much of a nerd as they come in every cliche. 

when he met you, when he got to know you, and when he first began whatever twisted relationship he currently has with you, he was completely inexperienced. he knew next to nothing about pleasing a girl that wasn’t acquired from his knowledge of scouring the internet, and he also knew next to nothing about the world of pleasure he was in for. when you’d first leaned in to initiate a kiss, he’d merely pushed you away gently, gasping over his words as he tried to explain to you how new this was all to him.

but you didn’t mind. you didn’t mind that he’d never even gotten close to holding a girl’s hand unless he counted his elementary school crush, and you didn’t mind that he barely knew what to do with you. you didn’t mind that you had to teach him the ropes of everything (mostly because it fed into your corruption kink), and you didn’t mind it even when you had to reassure him you weren’t going to judge him as you got him to relax before leaning in once more.

and when your lips had touched his for the first time, chan swore he felt sparks fly. you were soft, and sweet, and real. instead of being a mere figment of his imagination or the skin of the back of his hand, your presence was electrifying. the way your mouth had moved against his, the way you’d let out a soft sigh at the feeling of it pressing back into him, and the way you’d pulled away and flashed him the prettiest smile he’d ever damn seen in his life before, it was all so dizzying. 

“you’re a pretty good kisser.” you’d winked at him afterwards, and he felt himself flush under your gaze which only made you double over in laughter. you’d even leaned in once more to plant another soft kiss on his lips before motioning for him to continue with whatever demand and supply topic he was teaching you about. chan didn’t give a fuck about that anymore though, the only thought on his mind the entirety of the rest of your study session how to get better at kissing you, and when he could look forward to doing it the next time.

#three. what he likes about you

if anyone asked chan what he likes about you, he’d be at a complete loss for words. not because there’s nothing he can come up with beyond superficial reasons, but because there’s too much that he has to say and isn’t sure of where to actually start.

chan isn’t even sure when he fell for you in the first place. yes, when he first met you that fated night on the balcony at that premature freshmen party he caught feelings for you, but those feelings snowballed and grew into something much larger as the days went on. each night was filled with replaying your conversation (although he barely spoke out of his shock upon seeing you) and wondering what it would be like to be in your presence once more. it got to the point that his friends began asking him why he was spacing out so much during classes and staring at one specific section of the lecture hall, but he didn’t have the courage to admit it was because of you sitting there. 

to simply put it, chan likes everything and nothing about you. he likes the fact that you’re nobody like he’s ever met before, you have a fire to yourself that nobody comes close to claiming, but you laugh sweet enough to extinguish that flame at the same time. something about you draws him in, tantalising and captivating in nature but all too consuming to the point he can’t get you out of his brain no matter how hard he tries. the time you came up to him to ask if he’d help you with tutoring, his mind almost short circuited because holy shit, were you actually talking to him in real life instead of the made up interactions he plays out with you before going to sleep? and you knew his name and who he was on top of that? it was too good of a dream to be true.

that’s precisely why chan can’t let go of you now. even if it hurts him, even if it’s painstakingly hard to be hidden from the public eye whilst being together with you, he doesn’t want to let go of you. because letting go of you entails that he’s giving up on his aspirations of being with you, and chan is nothing next to a quitter. he’ll have you in any way he can, even if that means not abiding by his friends’ requests to just let you go and being kept in the dark by your lack of confrontation for your feelings.

at the end of the day, chan is head over heels for you, and that’s something that’ll never change. 

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[connorsui]

Now, obviously, any Christmas related shots being given in the first week of November is a big meh ...especially when we still have weeks to prepare for kink-mas ....but like Mariah Carey, I'm defrosting ....early… No honestly, like, yall ever think about sucking Simon off inside a nice cozy cabin by the woods while the snow is gracefully falling outside?

Your husband just came back from deployment, and all he can think about is getting your pretty little mouth wrapped around him like a nice "welcome home!" present…

feeling his grip tighten on your hair as he guides your movements ever so slowly and all you can taste is his pre-cum coating the insides of your mouth as you continue to take him in deeper-- your tongue swirling around his cock with you batting your pretty eyes up at him -- sure, theres small tears here and there but simon aint so meaaan?

With his thumb he would happily wipe away any tear that comes off those pretty lashes of yours while his hips would begin to rise off the couch to have the tip of his cock meet the back of your throat

While the quiet room continues to be filled with his ragged breathing and muffled groans of your name here and there.

Though Increasing your pace, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him off harder. Would have him not even daring to think about having you leave him anytime soon ...this man would lift your head off of him to open your mouth so he can watch all of his cum go down

I bet he would even call you a good girl for swallowing it all

Consui unedited thoughts

[mizutsugi]

cowgirl ☆ (dean winchester x reader

↳ synopsis: you ride the mechanical bull at some texas dive bar, and dean really can't keep his mind out of the gutter...

↳word count: 2,052

↳cw: nsfw (MINORS DNI!!), smut, fem/afab reader, oral sex (f recieving), p in v (wrap it up!!!), cowgirl (duh..), a bit of sub dean if you squint, not proof read!

You were about five shots in at a little dive bar in Texas, slamming the shot glass down onto the sticky dark oak counter as Dean followed behind you. The place was crowded- it was a Friday night, after all. The room smelled like booze and old leather, and the walls were a deep red, littered with little photos and mementos… an old acoustic guitar, a framed picture of a longhorn, an old Budweiser sign- the works. Whatever shyness you had was left at the door, and with all the booze starting to hit your system, you felt like you could do anything. That’s when your eyes landed on a faux bull in the middle of the dimly lit room, surrounded by blue padded foam and a ring. You smiled and pointed at it, trying to get Dean to follow.

“I wanna ride it.” You said.

“Are you sure about that, sweetheart? You’ve had a few.” Dean chuckled, currently sipping on a whiskey.

“Mhm.” You nodded before hopping off the barstool, dotting your way around the crowded bar before you made it to the bullpen. Dean was frankly shocked you went for it so quickly, and tried to follow you, pushing through a few people in the process. 

You threw a leg clumsily over the elastic cord separating the bullpen and the hardwood floor, stumbling over the soft foam before grasping onto the robotic bull. Suddenly a man appeared behind you- hell, maybe he was there the whole time- and tapped your shoulder. 

“You sober enough to be doing this, missus?” He asked with a southern drawl. He had a jean jacket on and a cowboy hat, and you gave him the kindest smile you could summon.

“Yes sir, promise!” You grinned, swinging your leg over the bull and mounting it. You playfully grabbed his cowboy hat and put it on your head. The man just laughed and shook his head, too spent to fight it. You looked around for Dean, who was now leaning on the cord with his arms folded over the strong material, smirking at you. In his head, he was making a bet with himself that you’d last 10 seconds tops. 

“Alrighty, just hang tight…” The man ducked out of the ring and grabbed what you assumed to be the controller. He pressed a button and the bull, big and black, started moving. 

You laughed and gripped onto the saddle mount, trying to remember everything from those old western flicks Dean loved to watch back home. You lifted your hips, back arching as you tried to remain as steady as possible while the bull lurched forward. Your thighs squeezed tightly around the machinery, your hold on the peg in front of you steady. You kept giggling to yourself, looking back at Dean with a wild grin on your face. He smiled back, nodding his head in approval. If he was being honest, all he could focus on was the way your hips rolled and your hair bounced on your collarbone, done up into two cute braided pigtails. You were wearing his flannel and a lacy white tank top underneath, that showed just enough. 

A crowd slowly emerged around the pen, with people holding drinks and cheering you on as you passed the thirty second mark. The bull started moving more rapidly, and your thighs gripped the beast tighter, while the upper half of your torso moved freely as to dodge the sharp movements. You whooped and hollered, freeing one arm from the mount to grab on to your (stolen) cowboy hat and tip it to the crowd before waving it frantically in the air. You could hear Dean clapping for you, cheering your name as you made it past a minute. You looked over to him as he watched you, both enamored and proud, and you smiled back. You put the hat back on your head and watched as a few of the patrons of the bar joined in on the cheering. The bull was getting quicker and more frantic, bucking you around all over the place. You tried your best, but your grip loosened and your thighs started spazzing out, losing their hold around the animal. You let out one last cheer before getting thrown off the bull, landing with a gentle thud on the plush padding beneath you. You laughed as the people around you clapped, including the operator. He retrieved his hat, which had fallen off your head when you fell, and gave you a firm handshake and a “well done” after you pulled yourself back up. You felt a bit dizzy, and looked around for Dean, who was now ducking below the cord and offering you a sturdy hand to pull yourself up by. 

You smiled warmly at him before taking it, allowing him to pull you out of the ring. He dropped your hand but quickly went in for a kiss, pecking you on the lips before giving your shoulder an approving pat. 

“You’re a damn professional, babe.” He said.

“Aw, shucks…” You smiled sheepishly, dusting your knees off before taking his hand as the two of you walked out of the bar and out the door, feeling the humid night air hit your faces as you stepped out into the warm darkness. You both headed for the Impala before driving back to the motel you were holed up in during the hunt. 

-

The second you made it through the door, Dean was all over you. He was holding you tight, pulling in before kissing you. You laughed, pulling away after his third kiss.

“Someone’s ancy, huh?” You cocked a brow, noting how his green eyes scanned all over your body while he held you close.

“Can’t help it. It was hot.” He mumbled lowly, placing a hand on the small of your back.

“What, how good I was on the bull?” You asked. 

“M-hm…” He hummed, the hand on your lower back inching lower and lower until it fell over the curve of your ass. 

“You’re such a horndog…” You smirked and rolled your eyes, but leaned into his touch. He slowly walked you backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You fell backward, allowing him to climb over you until he was hovering above your face, his eyes obsessively roaming over you. He lowered his face down to yours and kissed you again, this time hungrier and more desperate. He slowly moved across your jaw, then down to your exposed neck and collarbone. You moaned softly as he sucked on your neck, his hands wandering down to the flannel around you and pulling at the fabric until it came off, taking his lips off you momentarily so he could pull your arms out of the sleeves. While you were still lifted a bit off the bed, he pulled the white tank off carefully over your head, leaving you in a white silky bra and low rise blue jeans. He also took that time to throw off his own shirt, and you had about two seconds to admire his built chest before he was back on your neck. He kissed and sucked and bit, making you whimper and reach up to clutch his short hair. He snaked his hands underneath your back and fiddled with the clasps of your bra until he successfully undid them, pulling the straps down and revealing your breasts. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful…” He murmured from your neck, slowly tracing his lips down the valley of your chest between your tits. His hands reached up to feel the soft, supple skin, calloused fingers occasionally pinching your nipples and rolling over the sensitive buds. You let out small whimpers that made him harden beneath you, bucking his hips into the mattress as he worked his way down your stomach. His occupied hands left your chest and wandered down to the waistline of your jeans, gently pushing them down your thighs and, with one swift tug, off your legs. He threw them to the side, focusing on the lace panties you had on. He practically groaned at the site of a wet spot in the middle, where you were worked up. He looked up to your yearning eyes for permission before you feverishly nodded your head in approval. You watched him pull at the thin fabric until you were left completely bare.

He wasted no time connecting himself to your core, tongue lapping at your clip. You moaned, hands practically flying to his short locks to stabilize yourself. He had to admit, you pulling on his hair and moaning so sweetly shortened his patience a bit. He was skillfully working your body, sucking and licking in all the right spots between your folds, hands moving to grasp your hips, keeping you pinned in one spot. You couldn’t help but roll them, though, pleasure coming in waves as he hit your sensitive bud over and over again. 

“D-Dean…” You moaned, eyes squeezing shut as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Without you finishing your sentence, he knew, and his unrelenting tongue carried you to your (quick) release. You shuttered, feeling your body tremble and thighs quiver as you came down, his face pulling away from you to reveal his stubble covered in slick. He smiled in a way that was downright devious, so smug that he knew how quickly he could make you come undone. Giving you time to recover, he pulled his pants off, allowing the denim to pool at his ankles before kicking them off, then releasing himself from his boxers. Your mouth all but watered at the sight of his cock, already pink and slightly glazed with precum. He pumped himself a few times before positing himself at your entrance, emerald eyes locking with yours with eager, but gentle, anticipation. 

“Breathe in for me, pretty girl.” He said, giving you time to collect your breath before pushing in. You whined, feeling him slowly fill you as to let you get used to the feeling. As his hips slowly pulled in and out, each movement turning pain into pleasure, you reached to grip his strong arms. He groaned lowly, feeling you tighten around him, his thrusts beginning to pick up the pace. 

“D…Dean..” You moaned, shakily tapping your finger against his arm.

His thrusts slowed slightly as he cautiously responded, “Yeah, baby?”

“Switch w’me.” You requested, an idea forming. He gave you a bit of a skeptical look, before pulling out and lying down beside you, a bit frustrated from the sudden separation. 

You climbed over him, and his eyes suddenly lit up as realization hit him all at once. You straddled his bare lap, hovering over his cock. Your hands felt up his toned chest, nails dragging across it slightly as you admired how handsome he looked under you. He fucking whimpered, which drove you crazy and reminded you why exactly you decided to take the lead. Your hands wandered back down to his dick, lining it up with your entrance before you slowly lowered yourself down on him. You and him both moaned at the feeling of being inside each other again, your hips rolling. Your eyelids fluttered shut, allowing yourself to focus on movement rather than giving in to the urge to collapse his broad chest. You slowly lifted your hips up, then down, then up, until you were in a steady rhythm of bouncing on his cock. He moaned, hands gripping your waist softly and helping guide you up and down. You whimpered and whined at the feeling of his length pumping in and out of you, your core strength starting to falter as you felt yourself getting closer. 

“I’m… fuck…” You could barely get a word out, breaths getting shallower and shallower as you focused on chasing your release. 

“Cum for me, babe…” He mumbled slowly, feeling himself also getting close as your walls tightened around him. You did, almost immediately collapsing on top of him, head falling to his collar as you faltered around him. Feeling you squeeze around his length, he came, hands grasping around your back as you laid on top of him. You smiled, feeling his rough palms slowly start to rub soothing circles on your back as you both recovered. 

“My pretty cowgirl…”

↳a/n: my writers block is SO BAD :( i promise i will try to get to all my requests asap! this was in fact not a request but like... something possessed me and i needed to finish this draft. thinking so much about dean rn... ughhhh