#then all the way up the crease between his groin

[too-deviant]

ray bans.

with…ART DONALDSON!

contains…fem!reader, 18+ CONTENT!, handjob, p in v, public sex, this was written b4 the movie came out so excuse any discrepancies!

You blame the tequila.

Strong and sharp in your glass at the tennis luncheon your boss had invited you to, swishing around with every movement you made as you told an overexaggerated story to Art Donaldson. He didn’t pay a lot of attention, you could tell, but his eyes were so firm on yours that you needed to talk to get the nerves out. 

It was the tequila, not his eyes, that got you cornered in a bathroom too fancy to be anywhere but this cushy hotel, legs pushed back so far you felt a burn in the crease of your groin. Those dusty blonde curls buried between your thighs, perfectly calloused hands holding them apart so he could lap at you with perfect fervour. 

Your eyes were watering, and he gazed at you as you came down, rubbing up and down your legs until you were ready to push yourself down and onto your feet. You wiped the runoff mascara as best you could, but huffed at the stains around your eyes.

Art had grinned, slid his sunglasses from his collar and placed them perfectly over your eyes. You’d asked him when he wanted them back, and he’d just smirked. 

Which was how you found yourself scooting past old people in linen suits and straw hats, expensive bags and designer shades on their noses. Yours weren’t designer, but they were Art Donaldson’s, so you won. 

In this life you took your seat in the rows at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Centre — a doozy of a sentence to tell your Uber driver. In this life you slid Art Donaldson’s sunglasses over your eyes and waited patiently for him to sidle onto the court, slam himself a win, and meet you in the bar to take them back. 

His hits were precise, hard, fast. The muscles in his arms and neck pulled beautifully. You pulled the plush of your lip between your teeth, letting it go when he hit another, his grunt louder to you know. Clearer. 

But as your eyes pivoted back and forth across the court, his opponents moves much more confident and fluid than his, the life changed. Now this life was a tense strain in your neck, your fingers tight around the dress you wore just for today. In this life, Art Donaldson lost, and when everyone else was cheering for the winner, you were watching him storm away. 

It was quicker to manoeuvre through the crowds now that everyone else was leaving. You didn’t have to worry about bumping into people, because they were all bumping into you and there was a collective agreement that any and all shoulder shoving slash toe-stepping was okay for now. So you slid your way through, sidestepping through the rows of seats and going down a row every time you got to some stairs — ensuring that it wasn’t completely obvious where you were going. 

You made awkward eye contact with the ball boy but your confident smile put him at ease and he dismissed you completely, allowing you to slip around the back of the stands and into the locker room. 

It was much quieter in there, the noise of the crowd fading into nothing when the door closed behind you. Now you could focus on your surroundings, the sound of water dripping and heavy breaths. 

You parted your lips gently, “Art?”

Footsteps, and then the blonde man was rounding a row of lockers and meeting your sly gaze. His own was shrouded in barely covered anger and light confusion, the latter crowing over a bit more when you took steps to invade his personal space. 

“You came.” 

“Well…” You shrugged, lifting the glasses off your head and tucking them into the collar of his polo. Letting your hand linger on the planes of his collarbones, feeling the heat radiating from the skin beneath the cotton. “That was quite some game.” 

Art huffed, “I was in walkabout. Shit luck.” 

You leaned ever so slightly closer, running your hand down his chest to just above the waistband of his shorts. You admired the way he looked under the lights — the beads of sweat on his jugular, the happy trail you could feel peek out from under the hem of the shirt. Your other hand stayed propped against the locker, and he was quick to run his own down your wrist, cupping your elbow. 

“Well…I say we pick up where we left off, no? That make you feel better?”

You narrowed your brows at him in a silent question. His minute nod was enough. Then your hand was sliding beneath his waistband, dipping into his underwear — Tommy Hilfiger — and wrapping around the base of his cock. 

He sucked in a breath, fingers tightening around your other arm, jaw ticking and eyes firmly on yours. You didn’t break contact even when you squeezed him a bit and he let out a shaky groan. 

You dropped your other hand, hooked your fingers around this waistband. Pulled it back so you could lean forward, eyes glaring at where your other hand sat. Then, with a noise so sweet he might have exploded, you let a string of spit slide from between your lips. Art watched it fall, achingly slow, onto his shaft, and then held back a cry when you started to slide your hand up and down his dick. Wetting it just right. 

You looked back up at him, made him look back at you. You pumped your fist slowly, thumbing his tip and adding his precum to your saliva. The sounds were erotic on their own, and even you had to tense your thighs together. Art’s own legs shook from his standing position, but before he could drop his head onto your shoulder you were removing both hands from his body and smirking at his painful moan. 

With your right hand still wet from his cock, you printed a perfect print on the front of his polo and pushed him gently back. He walked, transfixed on your gaze, until his calves were hitting the wooden bench and he was being sat down. He stared up at you, pleadingly so, and you lifted the hem of your dress just enough so you could slide onto your knees on either side of his hips. 

With your crotches pressed together, Art couldn’t stop his hands from flying to your ass and squeezing. You grinned, and his smirk returned in full force. 

“Should lose more often.” He murmured, leaning forward and pressing his nose against your chest, the low cut of your dress feeding his carnal desire to completely devour you. 

You hushed him gently, pushing yourself up so you could slide his shorts and boxers down to his thighs. His dick sprung out beautifully, making another wet patch where it hit the bottom of his shirt. You used your hand, brought one of his around so he could pump himself while you reached under your dress and pushed your underwear to the side. Then you were shuffling forward and letting Art align the tip of his cock with the wet of your folds.

You didn’t waste a moment, bracing yourself on his shoulders and rolling your hips along his own. Your breathy moans accumulated to the steam you had now registered coming from the shower he had abandoned in favour of letting you take him like this. His huffs and puffs only increased as he began to control your movements, rutting into you from below. 

The creaky hinges of the bench cried with every hurried thrust, but the shower muffled most of your sounds. You gave into your urges and licked a stripe up the plane of his neck, bringing your hands around to grip hard at his back, creasing his already ruined shirt. His own mouth was suckling and nipping at your chest, hitting that sweet sweet spot just in time for your movements to get a little sloppy. 

Smacks of skin on skin fuelled the fire in your gut, and your fingers coiled around his blonde curls. His own movements stuttered, and you let out a guttural groan into the humidity of the room when you finally reached your peak, Art following not far behind you. 

You stood with effort, fixing your underwear and patting your dress down while Art panted beneath you. Then you patted him on the cheek, took his sunglasses back from his shirt and put them right back on your face.

“I’ll see you at the mixer next month.”

divider by @bunnysrph 🫶

[byuntrash101]

sharing is caring?

hongjoong x f!reader x mingi smut | mdni 5.2k of course hongjoong cares about his friends but when mingi gets too close to his girl it’s time to remind him sharing is not always caring. nsfw tags under the cut

dom possessive bf!joong, sub simp!mingi, exhibitionism, voyeurism, joong has a point to prove, fingering (f), oral (f), squirting, multiple orgasms (f), a dash of spit kink, unprotected sex (don't), nipple play, praising (f), hair pulling (m), slight degradation (mingi is called desperate and a dog), masturbation (m), dry humping, some mxm but not really (just trust me), leg humping, slight edging, cumming untouched, cum play, cum eating

a/n: idk what happened. i was horny okay? (what's new ?lol) and im not even sorry for the absolute filth that follows.

ateez masterlist | navigation

Hongjoong, Mingi and yourself have been in the studio for hours now, it was well past into the night but neither of you were complaining. You were way too focussed on producing this song to even feel the effect of fatigue tensing the muscles of your neck and laying heavy on your eyes. 

You were all too focussed. Well, you were definitely the one that was the most focused right now. Because as you bent over the mixing board to point out on the screen the section that seemed to require more work, you accidentally found yourself crowding Mingi’s personal space. Of course, you made nothing of it. Mingi was your friend, you’ve been physically close to him dozens of times, it didn’t mean anything in particular. But Mingi has had different feelings about you for a while. Maybe even ever since you started dating Hongjoong and right now the only thing he could see was that the loose fitted tank top you were wearing hung slightly around your chest which resulted in your breasts being on display, in close proximity and right at his eye level. 

Subconsciously his eyes were attracted to the exposed skin and he had to bite his bottom lip to repress a small gasp of surprise. He innocently pulled back on the beanie that was falling low on his forehead and his eyes just to be able to look a little better. He didn’t even need to turn his head, only look slightly to the side and he could see everything: the black lace bra you were wearing, the crease between your breasts. He could smell your delicate perfume. Hell, you were so close he could even feel your body warmth radiating on his face. Or maybe the warmth he felt was actually from his own boiling blood rushing to his face… and to his groin. 

Hongjoong that was slightly leaning on his office chair saw the whole scene unfold as he peered at the both of you through his large silver framed glasses. Inexplicable anger started to seep into his blood when he saw his friend eyeing you in that way. Hongjoong knew you were beautiful, there was no possible way not to look at you. But he still didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. 

“Don’t you think so?” you added when neither of the men you were directly addressing responded. 

Mingi only shifted uncomfortably when you stood back straight, oddly averting your eyes and Hongjoong only nodded absentmindedly. You figured they were just too tired to continue and as you were opening your mouth to suggest you should go to sleep and continue later, Hongjoong spoke up.

“Why don’t you go in the recording booth to sample some of the voice lines and we can all decide which one sounds better?” He suggested and you lit up.

“Great idea” you said, grabbing the music sheets and disappearing behind the door of the soundproof recording booth to reappear through the small window. You slipped on the headset, adjusted the mic stand and spread out the music sheets while Mingi and Hongjoong looked at you silently. You gave two thumbs up when you were ready. 

“Okay great” Your boyfriend’s voice resonated in the headset. “Let’s start with the first one” you nodded and soon after heard the music cue.

Both of the men in the small space right next door were strangely quiet. Mingi couldn’t stop shifting on his chair as he tried to find a position that would conceal his hard on. Trying to concentrate on your voice coming through the speakers and not the way you smelled or the slutty lingerie your were wearing under such unsuspecting clothes or your beautiful and perfect fucking tits shoved right into his face, both his hands laying over them and palming them as he buried his face between. Fuck he was getting harder.

“What do you think?” Hongjoong asked him as you were still singing through the speakers. 

Right there Mingi realized he hadn’t been paying any attention to what was going on around him. His mind was poisoned by the images he was so vividly picturing: you slipping off the flimsy tank top and taking his hands to lay over the bra, asking him to play with your tits, begging him to take off the lace that was keeping you from feeling his hands on your nude skin. Or you spread out onto the mixing table with Mingi’s face buried between your thighs, getting to finally taste you and hear you as he made you feel good, feeling your pussy throb under his tongue smearing your wetness all over his face. That was what Mingi was paying attention to, not the song. Definitely not the song.

But he needed to find something to say before he looked suspicious so he went another route. A route that wasn’t directly about the song but still close enough to pass.

“I think she’s a good addition to the team. Look at how far we’ve come with this song already? Of course we still have to run it by Eden but I mean it’s pretty much done.” 

“No” Hongjoong started, already his tone was a lot less neutral, tipping towards the cold end of the spectrum. And Mingi bit his lip thinking his friend was going to ask him to be more specific about the voice samples he wasn’t listening to but how wrong he was...

“I mean physically what do you think?” Hongjoong’s tone was now as glacial as could be as he did his best to dissimulate the burning rage that was hiding behind the biting cold tone.

The words didn’t make any sense in Mingi’s mind. So he turned to his friend trying to find on his face a hint that could help him make the sentence he just heard make sense. But he only found Hongjoong looking right at him, dead serious, an unfamiliar darkness about his aura.

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded and utterly confused.

“You wanna fuck my girlfriend?"

This time around Mingi heard correctly, that he was sure of. But he was still just as confused about the whole ordeal. “What the fuck are you on ab-”

“I saw you practically drooling all over her tits earlier” Hongjoong interrupted him, piercing eyes peering at his friend over his rectangular glasses. Now Mingi was shifting in his seat again. 

Fuck… he saw that.

Mingi started to stammer to whip up a reasonable excuse but his pressured mind couldn’t come up with anything worthwhile. Of course! Because there was no reasonable excuse. Truth was he gave in to his primal instinct and couldn’t look away. 

But very fortunately for him that’s when you emerged from the recording booth.

“So what are we thinking? Clearly my delivery wasn’t the best for the second option but cut me some slack and just imagine Jongho, okay?” you said, your exhaustion seeping through your words in the form of exasperation, completely oblivious of the heavy air that was stretching between the two friends.

Mingi jumped on the occasion to escape the humid tension that was raising the hairs on his nape. 

“I need to make a call” he abruptly said as he stood up and hurriedly left the studio. You sighed slowly coming to term with the idea that sadly, you won’t be able to finish the song tonight.

“What’s his deal?” 

***

Mingi didn’t need long. He just needed a couple of minutes to gather his thoughts, that's all. He thought as he rushed to the bathroom and locked the door right behind him, even though you three were the only ones left here.

“What the fuck were you thinking” he whispered to his reflexion pointing an accusing finger at the mirror above the sink. "Of course he noticed!" He slipped his white beanie off and settled it on the edge of the sink. He splashed his face a couple times with water in an attempt to clear his mind. But even the cold water wasn't enough to soothe the aching hard on that was currently pressing tight onto the cold ceramic of the bathroom sink. 

Mingi looked at himself for a second, pondering.

"Fuck it!" He concluded before shoving his hand down his loose-fitting sweats and pulling his rock hard cock out.

"I just need to cum real quick" he said to himself in an almost apologetic tone. Almost bargaining with himself.

He spat in his open palm and dragged the warm liquid to his cockhead with a lowly sigh of relief that made his Adam's apple vibrate in his throat.

"God- fuck-" he breathed out. Mingi didn't even need to focus on anything in particular to get himself there. He just closed his eyes and images of you came running forth.

He saw himself ripping your tank top and bra off in one movement freeing your beautiful tits and groping them right in front of his friend. He saw you sinking to your knees pulling his sweatpants down and taking him into your mouth. Your lips perfectly stretching around his large cock. 

He spat in his hand again picturing the wetness and tightness of your throat instead of his balled fist. Loud and lewd noises erupted from the act, squelching wet sounds coupled with heavy sighs and strangled moans he struggled to keep behind his teeth.

"F-fuckkk" he whined a little more high pitched than anticipated. He picked up the pace, pressing his thumb on his tip to squeeze the precum out as he felt himself twitch.

If Hongjoong only knew how right he was. Mingi did want to fuck his girlfriend. He wanted to fuck you so bad.  How he would have loved to stuff you full of his cock right then and there. Bending you over the armchair and snaking his big hand into your hair making you look up at your boyfriend while he just watched helplessly as Mingi claimed you, pounding into you mercilessly, splitting you open on his cock, your pretty face contorted into blissful agony because of him. For him. Only him.

He let your name roll off his hot tongue a hundred times in muffled and secret pants and moans until the pleasure was unbearable, uncontainable and spilled over the edge of Mingi’s sinful mind. And he was spraying his warm cum all over his fist and the bathroom sink in a last broken complaint of your name, his other hand tightly gripping the edge of the sink as if his large and ample thighs were going to give out.

He looked at his mess in the sink and took a couple of deep breaths. That should be enough to get his mind out of the gutter… Right?

***

“What’s his deal?” you said nodding to the door. Your boyfriend only shrugged nonchalantly while you settled the music sheets on the mixing board, shoulders flat and defeated. 

“You look tired baby” Hongjoong added with a warm smile ignoring your question about Mingi. He didn't want to talk about him right now. “Cm’here” he said patting his lap invitingly. You accepted the offer and settled yourself comfortably in Hongjoong’s lap, letting your back rest against his chest. He took advantage of the position to sneak in kisses to the base of your nape and nuzzling his nose in your neck. And before you knew it his hands had snaked around your waist and lightly stroked your inner thighs. The light touches lifted goosebumps on your bare skin, thanks to the skirt you chose to wear today.

Soon enough you had completely fallen into your boyfriend’s embrace. You were so relaxed now that you forgot about everything else and you didn’t even realize how his legs came over yours to spread them nice and wide. But you did feel when his sneaky hands slipped under your skirt and stroked the thin fabric of your black lace underwear. You jolted but Hongjoong’s legs around yours kept you in position.

“Joongie” you started to whine when he applied more pressure to your sensitive area.

“Shhh” he soothed you with more kisses. “Let me help you unwind” he said softly in your ear.

“But what if Mingi comes back?”

Hongjoong didn’t answer that, only smirking against your nape and sliding your underwear to the side. That’s enough of an answer for you, and even more so when Hongjoong dipped his finger to your entrance while his other hand sneaked under your loose tank top and under your bra to cup your breast. You could only let a moan slither through your teeth when Hongjoong gathered your wetness in slow circles over your opening to drag it back to your clit.

“I barely even touched you and you’re already this wet?” Hongjoong noticed as you complained with another little whine. “My naughty girl~”he sang. “I bet that’s exactly what you were waiting for, huh? My hands all over your pretty little pussy.”

He started to draw circles on the erect nub inevitably making your little cunt create a big mess under your skirt. As he picked up the pace he started to pull a little harder at your nipple making you moan just a little louder than you anticipated, making you clap your hand over your traitorous mouth.

“Be careful baby. We want to be able to hear when Mingi comes back” you felt heat rush to your neck at the idea of getting caught in this position. That’s when Hongjoong pushed his index and middle finger past your entrance. You moaned again against your fingers, eyebrows digging a crease in your forehead as you tried to remain as silent as possible. Maybe you could muffle your voice but the same thing couldn’t be said about the squelching noises your boyfriend was dragging out of your sopping wet cunt. Long strings of arousal linking his fingers and your heat every time he pulled out to play with your painfully sensitive clit.

Your high was nearing and as the pleasure rose you slowly forgot about your whereabouts so when you heard footsteps coming your way from the hall you stiffened in your boyfriend’s lap. Instinctively trying to close your legs. But Hongjoong’s strong thighs kept you exactly like you were.

“J-Joongie…hmph…M-Min-gi” you struggled to say as Hongjoong kept on teasing your clit and nipple. 

Your eyes darted over to the door when you heard the recognizable clatter of the handle, your heartbeat started to raise and you struggled to close your legs.

“Stay put baby.” Hongjoong breathed against the shell of your ear. Which made you stop. “I want you stay exactly like this”

You can’t describe the overwhelming shame that took over you when you saw the door being pushed open and you were met with Mingi. 

It only took mere milliseconds for Mingi’s eyes to dart from your flushed face and half lidded eyes to the suspicious movements under your skirt and to Hongjoong’s smug little smile. 

Mingi’s cheeks instantly became scarlet red as he turned his head around to look away. But even if he couldn't see anymore he could still hear the sound of your cunt being stretched open by Hongjoong’s fingers as well as your soft muffled moans. And even though he just jacked off in the bathroom he still felt his pants becoming tighter once again.

“You can look” Hongjoong started. “I’ll allow it. So you can see she only belongs to me” 

Mingi barely wrapped his mind around the words but nonetheless he slowly looked in your direction again. Instantly he felt blood rush to his lower half again, reaching full hardness in a matter of seconds but how could he not? When you sounded and looked so divine and adorable at the same time. Even behind your hands clamped over half your face, muffling your sounds and wet eyes looking back at him occasionally fluttering close and open when he guessed Hongjoong was expertly teasing you. How could he not when he saw your skirt being lifted up and being let down at such a rapid pace accompanied with those wet and lewd sounds that were erupting from between your legs. The sinful acts only concealed by the damn piece of fabric.

It took Mingi everything he had to not just whip his cock out right then and there and stroke himself again. Instead his stupidly hard cock laid uselessly in his pants leaking precum in his underwear.

“I bet you want to see what’s going on under there, huh?” Hongjoong taunted, as Mingi stared obtusely between your thighs, with his mouth agape and his cock poking through his sweatpants.

Mingi already came this far and maybe lust was clouding his judgment and desire was getting the best of him but he nodded slowly peeling his eyes off the cursed skirt to look at his friend’s devious little smirk playing on his lips. 

“I’ll let you if you get on your knees and-”

In a split second Mingi found himself kneeling in front of the both of you, interrupting Hongjoong.

“You’re really that much of a simp for my girlfriend? Have some dignity, bro” Your boyfriend spat. But Mingi barely registered the insult he was entranced by the way your skirt was lifting and falling. He'll have time to mourn his lost dignity tomorrow. Tonight he did not intend on letting his chance slip away.

“Come closer” Hongjoong commanded and Mingi crawled to you until his face was way too close for comfort. At this close distance Mingi heard the sounds of your wet cunt being abused as clear as day as loud as bells. He even wished he could record them to play them forever but if he wants to relive this moment he will only be able to count on his memory, maybe that was why he was so attentive. He wanted to remember every detail. He took a deep breath inhaling your scent that was now floating to his nose. You smelled divine, the right amount of sweet and sinful. The perfect cocktail. Strong but oh so feminine. A fragrance that went straight to his head to burn his last two functioning brain cells. 

“Now promise after tonight you won’t ever look at my girl ever again” Mingi didn’t need to hear it twice. He immediately followed with the request.

“I promise I won’t look at y/n ever again” Mingi hurriedly said, almost choking on his saliva. Truth be told, in this instant he would have agreed to virtually anything, he would have eaten the off white beanie right then and there if he was asked to. He’ll think about the consequences tomorrow.

“Okay baby, lift up your skirt” Hongjoong said his tone changing radically, as stern as he was when addressing Mingi he was now soft and gentle with you.

“But Joongie” you whined right before a moan beat to the punch another complaint as your boyfriend slipped his fingers out of your heat to circle your clit once more.

“Come on baby, be a good girl and do as you’re told” he said before shoving his fingers back in earning another muffled moan. “Show your pretty little pussy to our guest.”

Slowly but surely your hands left your face to wrap your fingers around the hem of your skirt at both your sides. Mingi couldn't believe his eyes as he looked up at your flushed face looking right back into his eyes as you carefully lifted up your skirt. His eyes darted straight down to your core. His hard cock immediately jumped inside his sweatpants, his eyes grew twice as big and his mouth started to water. There was nothing that was more beautiful in the world he thought as he slipped the beanie off his head, setting it carelessly on the ground beside him.

The way your perfect little cunt accepted Hongjoong’s fingers, clamping around them every time he pulled them out to circle your clit a couple of times before pushing them back in again, your little cunt emjoying the attention and twitching under Mingi’s scrutinizing gaze. 

You felt the thrill of being watched as you looked at Mingi, eyeing you like a famished man. His hair disheveled and his cheeks pink. It made your core tingle with a brand new source of arousal and you wiggled your toes in lustful shame.

“Fuck” Mingi said under his breath making you moan a little louder as you watched him being entranced by you. 

The thrill rocketed you to your high and you started to squirm and clench around Hongjoong’s fingers. He knew exactly what it meant.

“P-please Joongie. Can I-” you panted as your fists tensed up around the hem of the skirt but never letting your hold falter making sure Mingi saw every part of you. Normally Hongjoong liked to tease you but this time he wanted to reward you for being such a good and obedient girl. And moreover he wanted to give his friend a good show of how only he could make you feel this good.

“Look carefully” he whispered, addressing his friend kneeling between your legs, eyes perfectly leveled with your pussy. “Cum baby” he said, his hot lips pressed to your ear. And you immediately let go. Letting your walls grip Hongjoong’s fingers urging them to reach further as you twitched uncontrollably, your cum flowing out of you in quick spurts. Soaking the carpeted floor. Mingi’s jaw dropped to the ground as he watched the precious nectar being wasted on the carpet. His throat suddenly feeling as dry and the saharan desert, licking his chapped lips instinctively at the fleeting and forbidden thought of connecting his lips to your core to have a taste of you.

Hongjoong accompanied you gently as you rode off your high, your back arched into his chest. Hongjoong pulled his fingers until only his first knuckle was still inside and spread his fingers apart, stretching you open beautifully for Mingi to look at how your walls fluttered around nothing, your orgasm prolonging as your chest rose and fell rapidly, your moans slowly dying off. 

“Look at how pretty she is just for me” Hongjoong added, spreading his fingers even wider, as you whined again but still holding the hem of the skirt up with purpose. This way Mingi could even see your cervix pulsing, he could almost hear it demanding cum. Demanding to be fucked full of cum and knocked up right then and there, holding Mingi as witness.

“Fuck” was the only thing Mingi could enunciate truth be told his brain was completely fried and he didn't have the wits to come up with anything more clever.

You couldn’t help but squirm again as Mingi leaned in to have a better view at your most private parts, his nose was now only a couple of inches away from your cunt and he couldn't help but to take a big whiff of you. Your essence absolutely bewitched him… he just couldn't help but to wonder how you tasted.

“You did so good baby” Hongjoong soothed immediately as he slipped his fingers out bringing them to his mouth. Mingi followed his friend's tongue wrap around his digits and lap up the precious liquid coating them as he instinctively swiped his tongue on his bottom lip, his hard and leaking cock slowly forming a pool of precum in his sweatpants.

“How do you think she tastes?” Hongjoong taunted his friend again. 

“Fucking delicious” Mingi sighed his dick twiching at the thought of your wetness coating his tongue. 

“Trust me whatever you're imagining. It’s better. ” Hongjoong said, holding his saliva and cum coated fingers to your lips which you welcome into your mouth. “How do you taste baby?” he asked, smirking at his friends looking with the most desperate of eyes at how you licked off his fingers clean.

“So good Joongie” you replied before he popped his fingers out of your mouth with a lewd sound.

Mingi watched as he swallowed thickly just as you did so, echoing the sound with his own mouth as if this way he would get a taste.

“Baby you’re so hot I got so fucking hard for you” Hongjoong whispered in your neck and pressed a couple of wet kisses to the shell of your ear and jerked his hips into you poking his cock on your ass. 

You didn’t need anything more to busy your hand and freeing Hongjoong’s cock from the uncomfortable restrains. 

“Sit on my cock baby” he urged, with all of that teasing he also got pretty worked up. 

When your boyfriend’s cock rubbed on your folds you jolted your hips in anticipation. Before aligning him with you and slowly sinking your hips on his. Mingi held his breath at how your pussy perfectly fitted around him, perfectly expanded to have him whole inside you until you bottomed out with a whiny and breathy moan. 

“Good girl” he said, wrapping both his hands under your thighs and thrusting up into you. The first couple of strokes were slow, mainly to warm you up to him but also to let Mingi have a good look at his cock splitting you open. 

“Joongie~~” you cried as you let Hongjoong take control. “Fuck it feels so good” you let your head rolls back onto his shoulder

“Yeah? You like that?” he said as he sped up. 

“Fuck yeah I love it. I love your cock” you declared.

 Mingi couldn't believe his eyes or his ears as a matter of fact. To hear you say such sinful things, hearing you make these unholy noises. Getting to see your cunt clench around his friend's dick. There was not a trace of doubt in Mingi’s mind. You were made just for his cock. Perfectly molded just for him. 

“Who’s cock do you love baby?” Hongjoong asked through gritted teeth, maintaining the deadly pace between pants and groans.

“Yours!! Your cock!! Kim Hongjoong’s cock!!!!” you replied hurriedly, almost instinctively. Your mind is only filled with thoughts of your boyfriend.

“Hear that?” Hongjoong asked, almost laughing as if his friend's misery entertained him. Mingi didn’t even need to look at him; he could hear the shit eating grin from a mile away. He was annoyed at that but he was even more annoyed at the way he couldn’t look away, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Fuckkk” Mingi moaned when your shin accidentally brushed over his clothed crotch. He felt pityfull for it but he couldn't help it. He wrapped both his hands around your calf and started to hump your leg. The last strand of sanity out the window as he mindlessly humped your leg like a dog. 

“You’re that desperate huh? That’s fucking laughable. you're really like a dog” Hongjoong laughed again. “Pathetic.” But Mingi didn’t even hear. He was too focussed on looking at your cunt swallowing Hongjoong’s dick and spit it back out covered in your glistening juices, said juices pooling on Hongjoong’s pants and staining them. 

Fucked you looked so fucking delicious, and your leg felt so good on his miserably hard cock he couldn’t stop the high pitched moans from leaving his lips and being set free in the small studio, joining yours and Hongjoong’s in a sinful trio. Undoubtedly the most beautiful and harmonious song ever produced within these four soundproof walls.

“Are you close baby?” Hongjoong asked between pants, his hips never faltering, fucking up into you and rearranging your guts.

“Yessss” you cried. “so– so c-close”

“You need a little help to get there?” 

Mingi’s ears perked up.

“Yes” you replied, shyly, getting an idea of what that implied.

“Mingi?” Hongjoong asked and instantly Mingi wrapped his mouth around your clit. You threw your head back, your moans morphing into literal screams of bliss. Mingi had been so starved of your taste ever since you started dating Hongjoong. He found himself wondering how you tasted like and he was not about to keep that an eternal mystery. He closed his lips around your nub sucking at it like a starved man. Twirling his tongue on the bud, even dipping deep down at your entrance, he didn’t mind one bit if he felt his tongue dragged along the cock of his friend as Hongjoong rammed into your tight cunt, all he wanted was to taste your juices that pooled the sides to drag them up to your clit.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” you announced, your hand instinctively finding Mingi’s locks of hair and pulling at it. Making him groan against your folds, his hips snapping against your legs as he grunted louder and louder by the second.

“Cum, baby. Let him taste how much you love me” Hongjoong groaned as he felt you grip tighter around him, your hungry cunt urging him to deliver his warm load. Demanding to be filled to the brim.

“Fuck baby I’m cumming. Gonna fuck you full of my cum” Hongjoong warned. 

“Y-yes please fill me up!! pleasepleaseplease” you started to mumble, your words all jumbled up in a desperate and lust induced plea.

“Fucking take it” Hongjoong said giving a particularly sharp thrust into you, his tip going up to kiss your cervix and delivering his huge and warm load right into your womb as you also let go of the burning coil in your guts, your walls spasmming around Hongjoong’s cock and your clit throbbing under Mingi’s tongue. Once more your cum gushed out of you like a waterfall and soaking Mingi’s face. Hongjoong’s relentless thrusts pulling the white cum out until it perfectly mixed with yours, the bitter taste of his friend’s load coating his tongue and making Mingi dizzy on your and Hongjoong’s love

“Fuckkk” Mingi groaned as his hips became less precise, creaming himself with his cum, the warm seed spreading into his boxer and seeping through the sweatpants to form a visible dark gray stain. His dick uncontrollably twitching inside his pants as he moaned face flushed against your folds, his tongue continuously lapping up your cunt and around Hongjoong’s cock until both the men came to a stop. 

When Hongjoong pulled out, Mingi let go of your leg to plunge his face between your thighs, lapping up the cum dripping out of your fluttering and shapeless little hole and swallowing it in big gulps. Dragging his tongue to your over sensitive clit, not caring for your overstimulated body until you pulled him by the hair off your exhausted puffy cunt.

“Stop~~” you whined breathlessly which snapped Mingi out of his trance as he looked up at you with fucked out eyes, lips swollen and his face made shiny with both your releases.

“There!” Hongjoong said. “You got what you wanted. Now don't go and forget your promise.”

Mingi groaned… he almost did forget about that. This opportunity might never happen again but he will always have the memory of this night in the studio and your taste on his tongue he thought, licking his lips.

“Fine”

IF U WANNA HELP ME PLEASE REBLOG WITHOUT USING THE COMMUNITY LABELS 🖤

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[thef1diary]

i had a through in the bus on my way home. a horny thought if i'm being honest.

so my thought was for dirtbag!daniel, but it could honestly work for anyone. so what if, a handjob (or something that requires your hand to be there) because he deserves some nice, special attention, and to tease or something, you use your nails, but not like rough if it makes sense? i don't even know if that like would ever work tbh

— horny thoughts on the bus is a must loll I always end up thinking of the filthiest ideas while commuting too 😭 this works perfect for dirtbag!danny. 18+ content below

Daniel sits back on the couch, legs spread wide, watching you with an intensity that sets your skin alight. He’s naked, his toned chest rising and falling steadily, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as you settle between his thighs. Your gaze remains locked on his as you trail your nails lightly up his inner thigh. His breath catches just slightly, a subtle flinch in his muscles, and your lips curve into a teasing smile.

“Something wrong?” you ask, your tone mock-innocent as your nails continue their path, grazing the sensitive skin just shy of where he wants you most. You keep your touch featherlight, letting the tips of your nails barely scrape along the edges of his groin, knowing it’s enough to make him twitch.

His cock is already hard, flushed, and twitching against his abdomen, the sight alone making your mouth water. Daniel’s jaw clenches, his head tipping back as he exhales a shaky breath.

“You gonna sit there and stare all day?” he asks, his voice low and teasing, but there’s an edge of tension to it, like he’s barely holding himself together.

You hum softly, pretending to consider. “I don’t know,” you say, your hand drifting closer. “You deserve some love.”

His cock jerks at your words, the thick vein running along the underside twitching in response. You don’t touch him there yet. Instead, your nails trace the crease of his hip, dragging slowly upward, just barely scraping along the heated skin. His thighs flex under your touch, the tension coiling in him palpable.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice strained, his hands gripping the couch like he’s holding himself back. “You’re gonna drive me insane.”

Your grin widens, and finally, you wrap your hand around him, slow and deliberate, squeezing just enough to make him groan. You lean forward and spit directly onto the head, letting the saliva drip down his length. Without breaking eye contact, you spread the slickness with your hand, your thumb circling the tip, grazing over the slit in a way that makes his hips jerk.

“Sensitive tonight, huh?” you tease, your other hand joining in, nails lightly grazing the base before wrapping around him. The contrast of your firm grip and teasing touch has him trembling beneath you, his breaths coming faster.

“Keep talking, see what happens,” Daniel murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but his smirk betrays him. He’s enjoying every second of this, as much as he tries to act otherwise.

You drag your nails up his cock this time, just enough pressure to send a shiver through him without being rough. The wet glide of your palm follows, slick and smooth, and you pick up the pace slightly, alternating between steady strokes and teasing scratches along the thick vein.

“You’re so pretty like this,” you murmur, your voice soft but laced with amusement. “All needy and desperate for me.”

Daniel groans, his head falling back, exposing the column of his throat. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, the sight making heat pool low in your belly. His thighs tense, the muscles shifting under the tattoos, and you can feel the effort it takes for him not to take control.

Your nails scrape gently over the sensitive underside of his cock, drawing a hiss from him, followed by a low, guttural moan as you tighten your grip again. You lean in, letting your breath ghost over him, watching as his abs contract.

“Bet you’d love to cum all over my hand, wouldn’t you?” you whisper, your tone dripping with mockery. “You’re so easy for me.”

Daniel’s response is a broken laugh, his hands flexing on the couch before one comes up to tangle in your hair. “Careful,” he mutters, his voice strained but still full of his usual cocky edge. “You’re getting a little too comfortable.”

You grin, your nails dragging up his length again before circling the head, your touch featherlight but deliberate. His hips buck into your hand, his composure cracking further with every stroke. The wet sounds fill the room, obscene and unrelenting, and you can see how close he is, his body trembling under your touch.

“Cum for me,” you murmur, your grip tightening as you pump him faster, your nails grazing his base with every pass. “Show me how much you like this.”

Daniel’s groan is wrecked, his body tensing as he spills over your hands, hot and sticky. You stroke him through it, drawing out every last wave, your touch slowing only when his breathing evens out.

When you finally let go, licking your palm clean, you glance up to find him watching you, a smug grin tugging at his lips despite the wrecked look in his eyes.

“You’re lucky I like your games,” Daniel laughs, the sound low and breathless.

You grin back, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his jaw. “You wouldn’t survive without them.”

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[keeksandgigz]

Chapter 2: Au coeur des ténèbres

Part 2 of Words are Futile Devices- A Steddie x Reader Call Me By Your Name AU

Summary: As some weird feelings come to light, you begin questioning your initial opinion of your two guests

cw: some suggestive content, reader's vivid smutty imagination. reader is a bit less of a cunt, brief description of insecurities (nothing too detailed), slut shaming if you squint, kissing, a lot of internal angst, overall a lot of words I'm sorry

word count: 3k

author's notes: I'm so sorry for the wait, but its here!!!

Heart of Darkness laid in your lap as you sat in your father’s study. Eddie typed away at his desk, while Steve looked at some old archeology dissertations from past students. You were often forced to sit in and listen to the guest’s nonsensical jumble of words and phrases in an attempt to sound smart. 

You had been scolded by your father twice for trying to interact with Eddie, who seemed laser- focused on the parchment in front of him, the metallic clicking of the keys of the typewriter in the faint background of the stuffy old study. Giovanna had come by twice with a pitcher full of apricot juice from the garden, which the two had gulped down without giving much thought. You saw the way the juice dribbled down Eddie’s chin, how he lifted his thumb to clean off the mess, then wiped his finger on his black cutoff shirt and proceeded to continue typing. His fingers flexed and tensed in between typing, thick and sturdy as he stretched and massaged the palm of his hand with his ringed fingers. 

Steve sat on the dark green couch, legs spread, his shorts riding up, up, up bunching at the crease between his thighs and his groin. One of his legs bounced as he reviewed case studies, artifact pictures, lip trapped in between his pearly teeth. 

There wasn’t a whisper of a breeze, or a draft, but you shivered nonetheless. The two could’ve been patronizing and condescending, but that didn’t take away from the fact that you saw the way their skin, not yet tan from the sunlight, rippled with sweat at each whisper of a movement in the stuffy study. Steve’s leg bounced as he studied the pictures projected on the walls, his already short shorts riding up with each jump of his leg, exposing more and more of his thigh, you blushed. 

This charged silence broke once Steve opened his mouth. He held up another glass full of apricot juice. 

“What’s apricot in Italian again?” he asked, wiping remnants of juice from his chin. 

“Albicocca” your father said, smiling. He went on a rant about the etymology of the word, which you really couldn’t care about. A fun little rehearsed bit he did every year, the students’ impressed faces beamed up the stuffy study. 

“If I can beg your pardon, what you said is slightly wrong” it was Eddie. Surprise tinged your face in hearing him speak up. In the two days that you’ve known him his vocabulary was littered with grateful praises and quiet musings, here it had a slight tinge of pride. 

“It’s uh— actually the Greek etymology for apricot comes from Latin. It’s praecoquum, then praecox, then precokia and then we get the Arab al- barquq— albicocca” he mused in a butchered italian, but all you could hear in his observations is just cock, cock, cock. He sounded nervous delivering his lecture, almost as if he was scared of getting kicked out for defying an authority of mind like your father.

Instead, he looked at him with an impressed smile, and Eddie blushed a bit. Steve delivered a friendly pat on the boy’s shoulder.

Not as lucky as many. 

Later that day, when Steve stole your friends for a volleyball game on your lawn, you watched his sweaty body, clad in a blue swimsuit, shoulders flexing and shining in the early afternoon sunlight jump up and duck down along with the worn ball that keeps jumping between both sides of the net. 

Eddie sat on the lawn, in the shade. His pearly complexion having acquired just the most undetectable sheen of red that threw the boy in a panicked frenzy earlier that morning. He was sorting through loose pages of what appears to be his manuscript. 

“Why aren’t you playing instead of staring at me?” his head perked up from the typed up pages, and you could feel yourself heat up. Not even the sun could hide the tinge of pink that colored your cheeks. 

“I could say the same thing about you” you stammered out, snippy and embarrassed. 

All he could do was chuckle as he motioned his papers towards the book you had ignored sitting in your lap. “I like that book. Heart of Darkness? One of the few books I actually liked when I was in English Lit in high school” he smiled. A smile that seemed genuine, much different than the courteous smiles he had reserved for your mom and dad. 

“And that was when the dinosaurs still roamed the Earth?” you curled your nose. 

A sardonic laugh escaped the boy. 

“Very funny. And how old are you again?” he scooted his butt closer to you, his loose papers now forgotten on the lawn. The proximity made you a bit nervous. 

“Twnety-one” you breathed out “I wouldn’t give you any less than fifty- six” you nudged his shoulder and he laughed. 

“Shouldn’t you be at some snooty college party right now? I dunno, traveling the world with some sorority sister?”

“And miss this gorgeous sight to behold?” your tone dripped of sarcasm as you pointed at Steve, mid jump into grabbing the ball.

Right as you said that Steve missed, ending up on the grass, a pained moan followed. Eddie isn’t given any time to answer you, stopping in his tracks and to run and pick up his friend to escort him where you were. You couldn’t care less about the physical ineptitude of your guest— if there wasn’t any blood or bones sticking out it wasn’t worth worrying. 

“Pass me some water, please?” asked Eddie.. You complied, rolling your eyes as he began kneading the injured boy’s shoulder. He hissed at the first swipes of the long- haired boy’s hands— big and firm. You let down a short swallow. 

“Steve you’re tight— you stressed?” Eddie asked, squeezing the juncture between the boy’s neck and shoulder. 

“I’m fine Ed” he smiled up at the boy, but instead of moving, Eddie dug his fingers deeper into the golden flesh of the honey- eyed boy. 

“Here, feel” he grabbed your hand and placed it on Steve’s warm shoulder— firm and freckled, still wet with sweat. “Isn’t he a bit tight?” Much to your shock you retreated your hand, but the feeling of the smoothness of his tan skin seemed to be encased in the fiber of the palm of your hand. 

“Yeah, I guess” you muttered, going back to Heart of Darkness. 

Dissatisfied with your curt and cold response, Eddie had your friend Chiara feel the back of the injured boy, whose fingers seemed to linger along Steve’s back for long, almost mapping every mole and mark to store in her mind for later. She was an artist, and an artist’s eye was never wrong. 

Steve smiled at the girl, and in return she giggled. Once she left you closed the book in your lap once again. 

“Careful, she’s gonna try to draw you naked” you teased Steve, whose eyes seemed to be glued on the way your friend scampered around the lawn. 

“Like I’m complaining” he retorted with a cheeky smile, and that made you feel weird. 

What did she have that you didn’t? Why didn’t he look at you like that?

You cursed the way you seemed to act too much like a grown up, the way you took yourself too seriously to even participate in a dumb volleyball game. 

Maybe you should’ve played. 

Taking your towel and your book with you, you made your way back into the house, almost stomping in protest, at the way the honey- eyed boy didn’t seem to spare you a cheeky smile or a wandering eye. Didn’t matter that they both seemed like two idiots who only cared about getting the experience from your father’s expertise, exploiting and squeezing the knowledge out of the overripe peach of his brain, which seemed to become less and less awake with every year that passed. 

You disliked the way that Steve seemed to want to make a pass at each and every one of your friends, and them letting him. With his rude and pushy American ways of wanting to make everything his, his property, his Don John-ish manners that made him expect something from everyone he came into contact with. 

You hated Eddie’s arrogance in his surveying and picking your brain, making the six year difference between you two seem like a chasm, with his snobbish knowledge of literally every book that sat on your bookcase. Fingers rubbing his stubbly, boyish chin as he examined each and every shelf, spine, title. He always seemed to have something to say with you, wanting to prove himself to the whole world, confirm that he wasn’t just some trailer trash who had finally made it out of the few acres of overpopulated land. You could not remotely fathom how those two were so close together, coming from such different backgrounds. 

However, as you tried to silently beg for Steve and Eddie’s attention, that was seemingly anywhere else but on you, like an old, neglected dog, you seemed to realize that, in some twisted sort of way, you wanted to fall victim to their charm. 

Like many of your friends did, much bolder, some older, and more confident than you had been, in the past years, not hesitating to pounce on your guests with hunger similar to a hyena. The hunger of a repressed teenage girl who had just reached adulthood, craving everything that came with it– even risque summer romances with men who had traveled around the sun for much longer than they had. Throwing their plump, glowing bodies on the dance floor around the sturdy necks of your father’s students. With every year that passed, you could not escape the vicious circle of your giggling friends, who competed over who would get to lure your guests into their greedy grasp first, and you’d all hear about it the morning after. 

You’d heard about gorgeous but incredibly incapable men, well- endowed, but short, much older and more experienced. There was something about their stories, the lightheartedness in their laughs, as if playing with these men’s hearts and minds had become a game, that made you feel like a different person. Coming home and contemplating on leaving the communicating bathroom door open, so that your guest could catch you sleeping on your stomach without any shorts on, or adjusting your swimsuit at the pool right as they passed by to read on the lawn. You never brought yourself to act upon these contemplations, too scared of what your father might have thought of you, and rather, delighting yourself in tormenting your guests as a way to cope with a feeling of inadequacy that seemed to swell with each year that passed.

Ever since Steve and Eddie had arrived– young, attractive, and most peculiar thing of all, there were two of them– your friends could not stop arguing about which boy would have fallen in the arms of your friends. Anna had gushed about seeing Steve’s dick through his tiny, blue swimming shorts earlier that day during a game of volleyball, escalating into a conversation that hours later could not seem to leave your mind, as you sat on one of the lawn chairs of the balcony. 

You had not entered your room, afraid your restlessness might have woken the two boys. Nursing a cigarette in between the intrusive thoughts of whether Anna was right. Had she already claimed her prize? A part of you stung at the thought that not even four days into their stay, your friends had already gotten their slimy hands on your guests. A different part had wanted it to be you to have received such attention from the honey- eyed boy. Would he have been attentive and careful? Or full of passion and bravado, much like how he’d presented himself to you since he’d arrived? 

“This seat taken?” Steve had startled you. The irony. 

You heard him let out a whiff of air, like a muted laugh “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He sat down on the wicker chair next to you, without waiting for your permission. He took in the still night air that had oftentimes brought you counsel, accompanied by the melody of the night cicadas. 

“Can’t sleep?” he mused, playing with the woven wicker on the arm of the chair. 

“Didn’t wanna wake you guys up” Your dry response was accompanied by a lazy drag off the half- finished cigarette. Steve reached an arm out in your direction, you took the hint. 

“I was downstairs finishing some work for your dad, the jet lag still keeps me up” you watched his lips wrap around the cigarettes, right where your mouth had been just seconds before. Your breath hitched at the realization as he let out the smoke from his mouth, slow and deliberate. 

“So, uh, you and Anna? I heard you guys had a thing going on” you passed him the ashtray on the small table next to you as he shook the ash off the cigarette and brought it back to his mouth. 

He shook his head, “She’s your friend?” he asked, sardonically, turning away from you to look into the distant trees. 

“Not really, rumors travel fast around here” you tried to keep your mouth shut, but something inside you just pushed you to intervene, to let him know that she was certainly not good for him. “And she also has a reputation,” you added, gulping. 

He put out the cigarette in the ashtray, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and sat back on the wicker seat “Is that so?” A smirk adorned his face, almost as if he didn’t believe a word you were saying. 

You nodded, heating up a bit at the way his legs spread and his shorts rode up his legs “She gets around” You avoided his gaze, looking at Giovanna downstairs in the garden, finishing up her last chores for the night. 

“Never stopped me before” he retorted, shrugging. The sour look on your face only made his sly smile slice his face further. 

“By the way your nose is curled up I’d say you’re jealous” he laughed, standing up. You heated up at the– very correct and very obvious– observation. 

“I am not” you retorted, maybe a little bit more upset than you should’ve been at his dig, standing up abruptly.

“What is it then?” he inched closer to you. You could smell the remnants of the cigarette on his breath. You felt your eyes widen and your throat close up “You’re envious of your friends getting more attention than you? Am I supposed to feel bad for you because you feel inferior to them? Maybe if you stopped being a bitch to everyone that crossed your path you’d get laid too” With each stinging sentence the boy got closer and closer to you, his chest almost touching yours, and with each dig you swelled up with anger. Why was he treating you like this all of a sudden? 

Deserved? Sure. You had been nothing but a raging cunt to him since his arrival, but his words seemed to intend to cut deeper than that. 

However, instead of hurting you, his words only revved you even further, wanting most of all, to shut up his nonsensical attack against you. 

You watched his heated expression as he stopped his ranting, leaning on the railing of your balcony. 

“Well? Nothing to say for yourself?” he muttered, his voice much lower than his previous scolding. You couldn’t say anything, inside you were fighting demons you had only heard of from your friends. You were panting as if you had run a marathon, but to him, you were just a child throwing a tantrum. 

He scoffed “Y’know what? Grow up” he laughed, before motioning to turn around. Something in your chest pulled you towards him. The need to become more like your friends, that had lied dormant as you had awaited to provocatively lure your guests into your room, had been nudged. 

As Steve walked away heatedly, closing the door to his room, you imagined grabbing his shoulder with strength you didn’t know you had and spin him around before crashing his lips onto his. 

Kissing him with a hunger that was only for you to satiate. Needing to feel yourself bloom out of a cage that you’d put yourself in because you took yourself too seriously. You imagined exploring his sturdy, tanned body. 

As you got ready for bed, peeking your face into your guests’ room, where Steve had fallen asleep without changing out of his clothes. You imagined slipping your hands under his billowy shirt, as his hands gripped your waist so tightly that his fingers could have left marks in their wake. Slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, feel the softness of the skin underneath, scratching it with his fingernails. 

You thought about intentionally upsetting him, just to have him that close to you again. You thought about his reaction to your tongue making its way into his mouth, licking and tasting his lips, his gums, his tongue. Wanting him to have access to you, to look at you. To peek his head into your room to find you asleep on your stomach, wanting him to see your scrunched up face as you transcribed your music, leaning against a tree as you read. Swimming with your friends, but only staring at you, at the way the water would drip off your body, at the way you would look while suntanning. 

A devious thought pervaded you as you imagined both of your guests fighting to have you. Fighting to look at you. Fighting for your attention. 

You laid in bed, drunk on the vivid images of your body undulating in between the two boys, heated and needy like you’d never been before.

Thank you for reading!! Feedback is much appreciated <3

tagging: @littlexdeaths, @strangerstilinski, @aphrogeneias, @usergeta, @rebelfell, @ali-r3n, @thornsnvultures , @jamdoughnutmagician , @take-everything-you-can, @aol19 , @eddiesghxst , @myspacebrat , @xxbimbobunnyxx , @cryingglightningg , @lavendermunson , @freak-of-hawkins , @eddiesdaydream , @sidereustales

[bitchlessdino]

repeat rebound (m) Ch.6: Repeating Insecurities (18+)

Chapter list Pairing: Fem!reader x fwb!soonyoung (smut ft.wonwoo) Genre: Crack, smut, fluff (18+) word count: 3.4k tags: mentions of kids, mentions of gambling addiction, mentions of food, messy!reader, richboy!mingyu, dilf!wonwoo, cunniligus, soft dom!wonwoo, yearning!wonwoo, face riding Summary: The best way to get over someone is to get under someone. Again and again and again author note: hi guys, shes back but at what cost

tag list @nikkell @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @darthlunaa @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan

There isn’t much you know about Wonwoo, but in the short time you’ve reconnected with him, you’ve managed to learn a lot. For one, he likes energy drinks like no one you’ve ever met before as he stockpiled Monster energy by the 12 pack. Two, he doesn't seem like it, but the slightest nudge at his ego will show on his face. Whether it’s the subtle down turn of his smile or a crease of his brow, he displays his emotions on his face just like anyone else.

And three, he’s a damn, damn good kisser.

Wonwoo’s lips, slotted between yours, moves fervently as if chasing something just out of reach, bewitchingly sweet. Meanwhile, his hands hold you with a rough and eager grapple, unable to keep them off of you when you feel absolutely electrifying, the thrum of your pulse buzzing under his fingertips. He then pushes you inside your apartment, a growl stuck in his throat, pushing the door close behind him.

Your heavy lidded gaze finds his narrowing at you intensely, visibly intoxicated, as he inhales every ounce of oxygen left in you in a ravenous lip lock. He presses you against the edge of the entrance hallway table and the oak digs against your backside. As it embeds in your flesh, you feel it strike you in pain, sounding out in soft wordless groans.

Luckily for you, Wonwoo knows when to take action. Swiftly, he lifts you from the ground to have you loom over him as your tush lands on the table, letting your legs border either side of him. His eyes flutter open when he breaks the kiss, hands clasped against your face, and his thumb gliding over the swell of your bottom lip.

“Have you right where I want you,” he says in hushed tones.

You tug him by his hips, tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth in intrigue, wondering what more it is that he’s been wanting. “Well, don’t stop now. I might just run away again,” you tease.

He lightly scoffs, pushing pressure against your lips, finding that your head hits the wall mirror behind you. “Why do you think I brought you to your place then?”

He elicits a moan from you as his clothed groin brushes against your arousal—then comes grinding, addictive as the size of bulge presses against your core, and you clench at the mere thought of him inside you. Your fingers run up to find tufts of his hair, legs coming around his torso, and matching his rhythm as you lock him closer against you.

”I don’t know, maybe to give you a chance to swipe a souvenir?” You flirtatiously accuse.

Wonwoo’s eyebrows meet down the middle, lips parted in offense. ”Are you referring to me stealing something from you?”

”Maybe not a mug or a lamp,” You shrug innocently enough, “but maybe a pair of dirty panties.”

Smirking, Wonwoo’s gaze briefly flickers down south before his smile sweeps over your jaw and trails your neck, his incisors scraping against your skin. “Now you’re just giving me good ideas.”

“Well, I’m full of them” you whisper, lips kissing the tip on his ear, “But I'd rather be full with something else.”

His groans vibrate against your collarbone as you palm over his raging hard over his pants. He starts cascading his kisses as he gropes the underside of your breasts in his greedy hands. “Trust me, that’s my plan.”

In a blink of an eye, the buttons of your shirt scatter across all floors like marbles, spinning out of control in chaotic spirals as they disappear into the darkest corners of your apartment, perhaps to never be seen again—or worse, swept away by Mr. Roomba. You loudly gasp, eyes pointed directly at the perpetrator who’s hands tease the hems of your shirt with an apologetic smile. “Wonwoo!”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he quickly quips before his smile descends down your bare torso, wet and hot kisses following his path. 

You have no fight left to argue when you realize it’s easy to become clay in his hands. His wet clay that just gushes effortlessly between his fingers, while his knuckles work kneading your malleable body to fit his very desired mold. Meanwhile, his moans bounce off the wall deliciously, his breathing staggering before he mouths over your bra, finding the rigid peaks through the fabric and tracing over them with his tongue, and you whine from frustration.

“You’re gonna bring me back home just to tease me?” You dramatically cry.

“Maybe, I should, if that means I get to have you longer to myself,” he points out, cupping around the curved shape and thumbing through the space between the barrier and flesh underneath, sending a tantalizing chill running down your spine.

”We’re going to neighbors,” you pout, “Time won’t be much of an issue with us.”

His hands glide around your bust, fingers fiddling to find the bra’s hooks. “Promise?”

”Promise,” you recklessly assure in a single breath. 

And like that, your breasts are falling out of the confines of your undergarment before Wonwoo tosses it and your shirt aside to take a drag of your savor, finding its beguiling aroma only growing stronger the longer he allows himself to indulge. He tugs at you by your hips, your molten heat mere inches from his but still worlds away with a wall of jeans and thoroughly ruined panties.

Wonwoo moves on to the top button of your pants, gaze flickering up back at you impishly as he undoes them and slides down your thighs, caressing the skin he exposes from your ankles and up, following a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Leading to your inner thighs, he breathes in the heady cocktail that he could only describe as something that would’ve caused the Trojan war, or lead to rehabilitation from withdrawals. 

“…fuck,” He barely manages to mutter, before ducking down, vanishing from view and causing a sensation on your core that knocks the wind out of your lungs.

Your jaw falls slack, breath hitched in your throat, and you brace from impact by the edge of the table as your hips are possessed by his mouth. Meanwhile, Wonwoo—showing how he's both disciplined yet unhinged—works through the wetness soaked through your panties, sucking every bit of your arousal like it was sauce off a napkin, and then wrapping his lips around your core to engorge himself on a feast long overdue. His hands, large and coarse, cosset your breasts, thumb and index plying with your stiffness between before pinching, and earning whistles of a whine.

”Wonwoo…” You reach down for his face, lifting it up just slightly to bring him into view and instantly see the remnant you leave behind smudging his glasses as he’s latched onto you still. “You got your glasses dirty,” You mention weakly, fingers extending out to pry them off before he halts you by the wrist.

He holds your tender watch, eyes glistening awe behind his defiled frames, and guides your hand on his crown, burying him deeper, the metal rims pressing against your swollen clit. You give out a groan, doubling over as his tongue pierces your folds, slipping aside the scantily shaped piece of fabric and stroking generous stripes down your soaking lips, coating his mouth and cheeks just the same.

You could speak in only shattered breaths, mustering the courage to use Wonwoo’s helping hand and find your grip, leveraging it to ride his face. His groans echoes inside you, buzzing against your fluttering walls as he bobs in your aching cunt. He starts grunting in excitement as he eats you, enthusiastically even, the most you’ve even seen from him—then again this is the most enthusiasm you’ve ever seen from Wonwoo in general.

“Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna make me explode on your face!” You grit as sweat beads down your neck.

And yet, he doesn’t stop. In fact, he goes harder, collecting your thighs in his biceps and hooking them to clench around his face, so absorbed in your pussy and what treasures await him inside that nothing else matters. 

He is suffocating himself between your legs—willing, may you add—and his world is quite literally fading to black. And although he looks so goddamn pathetic—and is frankly so demeaning and pathetic, it’s hot. It’s sexy. And oh, fucking days could ride this train all the way to hell if you had that ticket.

“Wonwoo…god…you—“ you tightly hold on him, a loud agonizing groan leaving your body as your pupils fall behind your skull. Your hips trembling out of control, you unleash the build up that comes alive in his mouth, coating every crevice in your viscous, salty ambrosia. You leave him with the taste of you that would last hours, maybe days, not that he minded.

As your shaking begins to falter, the kisses he leaves on your pulse beating out of your legs ascend up your body, following up your stomach and gently caressing your waist. They eventually land on your breasts in soft sighs, finding themselves in his mouth, the symphony of moans escaping him once again. His arms come around to embrace you, seizing your sides by his hands in a firm grip.

You’re too tired to speak at this point and just observe, watching as he touches you fondly, wordlessly doting on you with utter tenderness that you aren’t even bothered by the silence.

He finally comes up for breath spreading a wide and exhausted smile across his face, glasses smudged beyond repair of any wet lens wipe and you let out a chuckle. You steal them from his face and reaching for your shirt once fallen to the ground and run its fabric on the lens, seeing it do absolutely nothing for the clarity. “You’re so messy,” you softly nag.

He gently takes them away from you, stuffing them in his pocket before reconnecting your lips, sharing what’s left of you. “I gotta go.”

He picks up after himself, plucking your jeans and bra from the ground and folding them neatly to be put aside. Meanwhile, you just stare at him, speechless for an entirely different reason. “Whu—what do you mean you have to go? You just got here,” you pull him closer towards, your breasts pressing against his firm chest through his tee-shirt. “What about you?”

He grins, cupping your cheek. “I got so distracted about taking you home…I forgot the baby monitor, and if I come in and out so often I might wake her up with the noise. I’m sorry.”

You groan, your head falling on his shoulder. “That is so incredibly considerate of you, you’re a good dad. God, fuck. That’s hot.”

“Hey,” He lifts his chin to meet your gaze, “Time’s on our side right? It isn’t an issue for us?”

”Yeah, yeah, yeah. Prepared to be jumped the next time Winnie is napping.”

He laughs at your honesty and reels you in for another devastating kiss before having to leave. You see him out, clutching your top close for dear life and staying hidden behind your front door as he enters the neighboring one. There’s a soft “Bye,” that leaves his lips, and soon enough the ghost of his presence haunts not only your front door hallway but your body that craved more than one measly orgasm.

“I’m getting the worst Deja vu right now,” you whisper ironically to yourself as you close the door behind you, recalling another moment you received head with dick on layaway. “I hate men.” You sigh.

Tired to do anything else, you take your well-deserved shower and head off for bed. But something decides to keep you up at night, something that makes you toss and turn, lying awake whether you're going crazy or not. Like you’re up wondering how things would’ve gone if he hadn’t forgotten the life line between him and his daughter. Or if it hadn’t happened at all.

Or if had he done that on purpose?

Get you all hot and bothered, eat his cake, and then leave when you’re ready for more. Giving you a taste of your own medicine like how you handled him the last time you were together intimately. His two birds and one stone. 

You immediately reach for your phone, instinctively pulling up a contact that's always the first to come to mind when it’s to rant about these sorts of things, but stopping before you could type out a message or send a call. Jeonghan’s profile image taunts you, reminding you’re supposed to be…disappointed that he’s keeping things from you.

But he’s your best friend. The first person you think to talk to when it’s superficial and reckless behavioral things like this. Surely, you can get over this hump.

You check the time to see it at about 11pm at night before deciding to call, nail to teeth about him picking up as you lay slump in bed, hearing only the dial tone on the other end. It rings steadily, and you take a breath with each beat, telling yourself after the fifth, you’d hang up.

”Hello?”

You sit up against the bed frame, moving too excitedly at the sound of his voice. “Hey.”

”Hey.” He responds softly. “You okay? It’s a pretty late time to call.”

”Yeah, I know. I…I wanted to check in on you.”

”Yeah?” He teases, a smile heard loud and clear.

You roll your eyes, hugging a pillow nearby to your chest. “Something like that…Is what I heard today what I thought it was?”

He sighs, and movement could be heard in the background of his call. “What do you think it was that you heard this morning?”

”That…” You lick your lips anxiously, the words having a hard time breaking free from their cage. “The machines. The buttons. The bells. Jeonghan, were you gambling?”

He sighs again, and you manage to make out the squeaking of a bed. Before he could calmly say your name, following up with some excuse you know you’ve heard before, you interrupt. “Don’t you start.”

”It’s not that serious. Just a couple of slot machines.”

”Jeonghan. No,” You warn.

He groans before you hear a snap and a quiet hiss, following the familiar sound of crackle. “It’s not that deep,” He replies, and by his mumble you could immediately tell there’s already a cigarette between his lips.

”What happened to all the progress we made? Everything we worked hard for you to break this habit and keep you out of debt?” You remind him.

”I was one time. The trip had worn me out and right nearby had a place, I—“ He takes a drag, exhaling deeply. “I just have been going through things, okay?”

”Why couldn’t you have told me that? I’m your best friend.”

He takes a beat for however long for whatever for. That’s what you hate about phone calls. You can’t see what’s happening on the other end and the face of the person you’re talking to. But this is Jeonghan. If you are going to be patient for anyone, it’s going to be him. ”…I know. I know. You’ve done a lot for me, sweetheart—“

“Then why are you shutting me out? Why aren’t you answering my calls?” 

“I swear I’m not.”

”Then what is it?”

“I don’t want to argue over phone—“

”Oh, you want me to hang up?”

“No, I just want to meet you in person. Let’s do that, hmm?”

You swallow a lump in your throat, suddenly anxious at the thought of seeing him again after a while and unsure why. “When?”

”Soon. Sometime soon,” he reassures.

”Okay,” you relent easily, despite being the instigator.

“Okay?”

”Okay.”

He let out a satisfied hum, “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

Your brain suddenly teeters back to the thought of your original intent, your reservations of your reconnection Wonwoo. That had been an afterthought the second you heard your best friend's voice, the voice the source of all your joy or all your rage. You ponder just a moment longer before deciding against bringing it up, thinking perhaps there’stime and place for everything. 

“That’s it, but…”

”But?”

”I miss you.” You answer sincerely.

His chuckles are like a warm bowl of soup on a cold evening, simply comforting and never unwelcome. “You’ll see me soon. Get some rest, okay?”

“Okay.”

If anyone could calm you down, it was Jeonghan. If anyone could silence you, If anyone held power over you, it was Jeonghan. 

Here you are, having had phone sex with one guy in the middle of his work day and almost-sex maybe not even half an hour ago with someone else entirely. Yet, right now all you can think and worry about is Jeonghan. 

Jeonghan this. Jeonghan that.

You push a pillow into your face, letting out your screams, all the spiraling thoughts of what’s happened to you in the past several weeks—which was admittedly more than you ever had to handle—before finally letting your mind sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day. A fresh start. With no worries.

And boy, did tomorrow like to throw more curve balls.

“Mingyu, No.”

“It’s not even for me!” He defend, a childish whine in his tone.

You shake your head at the man’s words over the phone, “No, do you not understand the words coming from my mouth? No.”

“He just needs a pretty little eye candy on his arm for an hour. Max.”

”Then you do it.”

“Hmm, flattered because I knew you always thought I was pretty and never said anything, but this is serious. My guy needs the hook up!” He pleads, as if he’d die without your help.

You stab your scrambled eggs and imagine them as Mingyu’s head, annoyed that whenever he needs a favor he comes to you with a sack full of cartoon money and at yourself for even thinking about considering taking th deal.

“Just because I played one fake girlfriend for you doesn't mean I’ll do it for anyone. I know you and you have money and I was desperate.”

You hear his clap over the phone, assuming he must hav you over speaker. ”Ah! Money. How could I forget? Ten thousand.”

You inched the space between your brows, hissing. ”Kim Mingyu, you spoiled fucking bitc—“

”Eleven, twelve, thirteen—“

”Shut the actual fuck up!’ You shout at your phone like a mad person, “Why is this so important? Who is this guy?”

”I told my friend. Now it’s not any time soon but—“

And you hang up, not wanting to waste the rest of your morning on Ritchie Rich’s nonsense. And like clockwork, your phone vibrates soon after, a text message by the nuisance himself.

Mingew: hey! that’s fine ill just call u about it nxt month! thats when the plan really takes action Mingew: keep ur phone on u!

You roll your eyes, not planning on taking that call in the slightest, and went with breakfast, other more important things going on in your mind and for once it isn’t Jeonghan. 

No, you’re backtracking to Wonwoo, second guessing his intentions still. You’ve barely reacquainted yourselves (quite the understatement), but you’re started to grow this strange attachment, treading on early signs of a crush, maybe something more. You blame the proximity, cursing that bitch fate for putting such a hot dad with who isn’t a douche right at your doorstep when you were perfectly fine being single again.

But what’s hotter than a guy you know that’s good with kids? A guy that's good with kids and can put his mouth to use.

You need to talk this through with someone. Someone you can confide in. Jeonghan currently seems out of the picture considering he’s having his own issues he’s dealing with. So, it looks like you have to rely on someone else for the time being for that kind of attention, but you’re wracking your brain figuring out who.

Your phone buzzes again. Another text message. You assume it’s another from Mingyu and scoff, but are pleasantly surprised when it's not.

Soonyoung: mornin pal Soonyoung: friend? Soonyoung: i don’t know what to call you

You laugh quietly to yourself before responding.

you: morning…bud? soonyoung: weird isn’t it you: yeah soonyoung: so what ya up to you: just having breakfast in my pjs soonyoung: hot you: lol dude soonyoung: kidding sonyoung: what else you: well You: something’s on my mind lately Soonyoung: something or someone? you: are you in my fucking walls soonyoung: no but HA you: yeah it’s someone Soonyoung: wanna talk about it you: wouldn’t it be weird Soonyoung: whats weird about it You: you and me hooking up You: and then talking about someone else Im hooking up with Soonyoung: We are just friends Soonyoung: i feel like there no other better person to talk about to Soonyoung: unless maybe jeonghan. Have you talked about this with him You: no its ok. Let’s meet up

[pedroacrossthestreet]

Some Nights

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x f!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 980 A/N: Look at me being all fancy with a fic header. As you can tell, I've never made one before. This is really short, really soft, I was feeling needy when I wrote it.

Some nights are like this. When you are both sated, bellies full of warm food, bodies clean and smelling of soap. You’re comfortable. A level of content that didn’t seem possible before Jackson. 

You lay on a mattress on your back, let your legs stretch against soft sheets, relishing in the novelty that you now have clothes to sleep in which were different to what you’d worn in the day. Your right shoulder is pressed against Joel’s left, and it’s surreal how normal this all is. 

Joel’s right arm is draped over his stomach, reaching so his hand is on your thigh, a constant pressure that keeps you grounded. You sigh as he squeezes your flesh through the material of your pyjamas. You can feel each fingertip, eyes closed and concentrating on the sensation of being held so casually and yet so significantly. 

Your eyebrow twitches as you feel him move beside you, and he notices, hushes you gently in the dark as he adjusts. You lift your head for him when he snakes his left arm under your neck, pulling you further into his embrace. The hand on your thigh remains firm, dragging your leg over both of his to open you up. 

When his hand smooths up your thigh, it’s slow, never breaking contact with you as it glides up to your groin. You moan lightly as his thumb pushes at the apex of your thighs, long fingers curled underneath at the crease where the plumpness of your ass begins. He moves again, curls into you so he’s laid on his side, the arm behind your head shifts so that he can cradle your skull.

“Joel…” You whisper, low and breathy, and he hums in response, presses a firm kiss to your temple as his fingers tangle in your hair. 

Some nights are like this. Slow and steady as he teases you apart. 

The pressure on your leg disappears, and you whimper, eyes scrunched shut as you listen to the sound of him sucking on his fingers, and then his hand is back. Underneath your waistband this time. He spreads you with his thumb and ring finger before he presses two slicked fingers against your clit. 

You gasp at the sensation, roll your hips slightly to chase the contact. He presses another kiss to your cheek, open mouthed and lingering as he moves his hand firmly down your core and back up again. 

He moans against your skin when he presses his index finger inside you, and it’s gone before you are able to acknowledge its presence. He circles your clit, keeps the pressure firm and you grind up against his hand. 

Soon, the sound of your arousal joins your laboured breathing and his wet kisses. “Joel,” you whine again. Not sure what you want but needing to say his name. 

“I’ve got you…” he whispers against your damp skin, keeping his movements torturously slow as he builds you up. 

You lift the leg which isn’t slung over his hips, bending at the knee and clutching your shin, anything to spread yourself wider for him. He kisses further down your jaw and you arch your neck, tilting away from him to give him more skin to suck on. 

Blindly, you reach your right hand from between your bodies, fumbling for his head to pull at his hair, anchoring him to your neck. He grunts, shifts again, and you can feel him hard against your hip. You whine, the consistency of the swipes of his fingers against your clit spreading a warmth throughout your body that you never want to end. 

In this moment, you feel like you could last forever, and you want to. Joel knows your body, and he never takes for granted the time you both have now. The comfort of safety allowing himself to indulge.

You’re pliant in his hands as he pulls you apart in such a way that your orgasm creeps up slowly. No man has ever made you cum like this before, so full bodily, and you think that you’ve never trusted another man with your soul like this before. 

Breathy laughter fills the room, and it takes you a while to realise that it belongs to you. The smile on your face is blissful, and your body shakes with your stunned convulsions. 

Joel shifts again next to you, removing his hand from your pyjamas, and then you hear the sound of your slick on his hand as he wraps his fingers around his cock. You open your eyes finally, humming contently as you let go of your shin to reach across to him, but he shakes his head, face so close to yours that his nose brushes against your own. 

He moans into your open mouth, and you know he needs this fast, faster than your liquified muscles could give him right now, so you settle for resting your hand on his hip. You tighten the grip of your fingers in his hair, holding him at bay, forcing him to look at you as his jaw hangs slack and his gasped groans increase. You nod at him, whispering encouragement, and he cums with a strangled noise that he quickly stifles with clenched teeth, breathing heavily through his nose. You caress his hip as his hand slows, stroking the remainder of his spend across your exposed stomach. 

Your voice is low as you talk him down, fingers now entwining softly in his curls as you coax him back against the pillows. 

You can relax now, Joel.

He obliges, smoothing his hand over the cooling mess he left on your skin as he curls into your warmth. You kiss the top of his head softly, breathing in the smell of him as he does the same to your neck. 

Some nights are like this, and neither of you can quite believe it’s real. 

[toxicanonymity]

Just thinking thots about ThighsOut! doing a thigh work out (like that leg machine where you squeeze your legs inward) and Reader starts groping between his legs and says "say stop." But he doesn't. But also, Reader stops if he stops working out--so the only way to come is for him to keep using the machine even though his inner thighs are turning into jelly. 🙏 you know, just thinkin about it.

gym play.

666 words, Joel x softdom f!reader

Your beautiful, devious mind. He would be a puddle on the floor 🫠🫠🫠

SUMMARY: PWP, 2 scenarios: the one in the ask, and making him cum without touching.

WARNINGS: hand job, "daddy" kink, mild degradation, teasing, coming in pants, coming without touching, exhibitionism depending on the gym? 😳 unedited FIWB.

more of this Joel: thighs out AU

groping him through his workout .

He would be a whimpering mess, barely able to move the machine at all. At some point, you would have to lower the amount of weight for him. You'd go to the weight stack and touch the pin on the machine and look at him like. you can't lift all this? And he's like, "ohhh, fuck, just---yeah, do it, fuck." You take your time getting back behind the seat of the machine, and reach into his lap, and watch the sweat bead and fall down his temple as you slowly massage his hard cock through his mid-thigh shorts. "Had enough?" You offer, but he insists, "no, fuck, just like--" you slip your hand into his waistband, "ohhh yeah, just like that, baby."

You don't take his dick out, but your hand is wrapped around the warm bare skin of his shaft. With your other hand you briefly lift his wife beater and from your angle, you can see the swollen tip against his tummy. You take the precum onto his shaft and put the shirt back down.

He slowly brings his knees together with his cock in your hand. As he spreads his legs again, you cup his balls, moving your wrist hard on his shaft and he moans, then whispers, "God damn, baby." Then when he brings his knees back together you return your hand to massage his shaft and whisper into his neck, "yeah, push it, daddy." He puffs out his cheeks and you stroke him a little faster as his over-fatgued thigh muscles hang on for dear life. Then he groans and lets the weighs drop with a clatter and the cum spurts onto his lower stomach and when you take your hand away, a wet, translucent area spreads on his wifebeater. He tilts his head to look straight up at you and pants, "Tryin' to kill me, baby," then reaches for your neck and pulls you down for a kiss.

putting on a show for him (coregasm).

Another day, you're wearing something really sexy like a sports bra and spandex shorts. Your sports bra gets all sweaty and your nipples are poking out. You stand there at the machine on display for him, touching your glistening body. You jut your chest out and stretch and watch his eyelids fall heavy with lust as he says, "god damn." He has an enormous erection. He stops lifting and says, "c'mere," and you shake your head no. He has a pained look on his face. You cross your arms and assume a less sexy posture until he starts lifting again. "God damn " he pants, "hottest thing i ever seen."

With one hand behind your head, you slowly, lightly drag your other hand's fingers down your neck, over your soaked bra, stopping for your thumb to circle a hard nipple through the fabric, making it even harder, then cupping your breast. He reaches for his crotch and you say, "not today, daddy." He's not allowed to touch himself OR stop his workout, and he's into it. Your hand continues down over your stomach, over your shorts. You sensually rub your groin, the crease of your thigh. You watch the tent in his shorts bounce and wet your lips.

"Ohhhh fuck, you're so damn hot, baby," he breathes as he slowly uses the machine. "God damn, you're gorgeous," his eyes are glued to your hand on your shorts. He's loving every minute of it. You move your hand to your mound and ghost your clit over the fabric. "Throbbing for you, daddy," you whine with puppy dog eyes. He's over-fatgued and getting close. "Turn around 'n lemme see that ass," he begs. You turn around and bend over. He groans "ohh, yeah," still obeying the rules. Then you run your hand up the back of your thigh. He engages his core with his next rep and you say "cum for me daddy," and he cums with a groan in his shorts, untouched, and lets the weights fall.

-----

Ty for reading 🫶 @toxicfics for notifications

[viennacherries]

Omg I love your fics and my rolan brain rot is REAL rn too… if you’re taking requests still I think a Rolan giving fem!reader a spanking would be soo hot :’)

hello anon thank you for this request heheheheh

the eagerly awaited spanking fic. enjoy ;)

NSFW

read on ao3

~~~

Rolan's never done something like this before, and he's more than a little nervous.

He loves Tav. He truly, deeply does. The few entanglements he's had in the past were nothing compared to this; compared to the way he feels about her. So, of course, of course, when she pitched the idea to him, he'd agreed to try it, despite his apprehension. Tav has been abundantly clear: if he doesn't enjoy it they can stop, and they needn't revisit the idea.

Still, that doesn't prevent the coil of concern that thrashes in his stomach.

"Are you okay?" Her voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

He swallows around the lump in his throat, nods slowly, "yes, of course."

Tav's face twists in concern, "Rolan... We don't have to-"

"I want to." He's firm and quick in his response. He might be completely terrified but he wants this, wants to do this for her.

Tav doesn't look convinced, "Rolan, I'm serious, I don't mind if-"

"Tav."

She stops, looks at him.

"Shut up and take off your clothes."

Her eyes widen, and it would almost be comical if Rolan's heart wasn't currently pounding out of his chest. It almost feels wrong, ordering her around like this, and he has to remind himself that this is what she wants, what she asked for.

If he's being honest with himself, he's mostly worried about disappointing her. They've shared their bodies many times now, but never like this. He's an academic; a perfectionist. The idea of doing something that he hasn't practiced to faultlessness, the idea of potentially being bad at something? That's the worst part. At the end of the day, if he doesn't enjoy it, he knows he never has to do it again. But if he's just bad at it? If she doesn't enjoy herself? He's not sure he'll survive the embarrassment.

Still, he can't deny the thrill that runs through him as Tav hurries to obey his instruction.

"Slower." He lets his voice drop an octave into what he hopes is an attractive and commanding tone. A tingle of pleasure runs up his spine when she immediately slows her movements, making eye contact with him as she strips.

She's gradual and deliberate in removing her clothing. Not quite putting on a show, but she's purposeful in every inch of skin she exposes. Rolan's sure he'll never tire of watching her undress.

Once she's stripped down to her underthings, she stops, standing with her hands behind her back.

Roman quirks an eyebrow at her. "I said take your clothes off, didn't I? That means all of them."

A visible shiver runs through her body as she reaches to undo her brassiere, and wow, yeah, he's enjoying this. Her eagerness to comply is intoxicating, and something about having her stripping for him while he's still fully clothed has him half hard already under his robes.

Finally, she stands there naked in front of him, shifting from foot to foot, hands clasped behind her back. He takes a moment to just admire her, take in her form and appreciate her body.

Gods, she's incredible.

He crosses the room to her, stands so close his breath fans across her face, but doesn't touch her. Her anticipation is palpable in the air between them. Rolan leans forward slowly, testing her, seeing if she'll lean in, but she doesn't. Leans forward, closer, until his lips almost brush against hers. Her breathing is quiet but ragged, lips parted, and her tongue darts out to wet them. When he takes a step back without kissing her, a smirk on his face, she whines quietly in the back of her throat.

The bed creaks as he sits on the edge of it, feet planted firmly on the floor. Her eyes dart between his face and his lap eagerly, and the heady feeling that seeing her so greedy for him gives him rushes straight to his groin. He runs his hands down his own lap, smoothing his robes of any creases, and then using two fingers he taps his thigh twice.

"Come."

She scrambles to do as he says, draping herself over his lap. Her stomach sits over his thighs, her ass in the air, and she hangs her head and moans as he brings a hand up to cup her rear.

That feeling of uncertainty comes rushing back.

She wants him to strike her, to inflict pain on her, and the concept is... Confusing. He doesn't understand what about it will be enjoyable, isn't entirely sure what she gains from this. He caresses the flesh of her rear, squeezing and stroking her softly as he steels himself.

"Is this okay?" He can't help the question, but Tav is nodding before he's finished speaking. "Use your words. I need to hear you say this is what you want."

She groans slightly, "I want it Rolan. Please."

He swallows hard, and he feels his dick twitch. She gasps at the feeling of his length flexing against her stomach. Hearing her beg isn't something he knew he needed.

"You're going to count them out for me, okay? Out loud. Don't lose count."

She nods again, and he draws his hand back.

The first slap is tentative, making a quiet noise as the skin of his palm meets the flesh of her cheek, and she gasps softly.

"One."

He waits a moment, gives her a chance to say she wants him to stop, but she doesn't. This time, when he draws his hand back, he lets it fall harder, feeling a light sting across his fingers. Whatever reaction he expected, it isn't the loud uncontrolled moan she lets loose.

"T-Two."

Oh. Yeah. He likes this. Her breathy gasps and gulps between each slap of his hand, the way she pushes back into him when he rubs the skin to soothe it. He lets loose three more slaps in quick succession, each one slightly harder than the last, and the noises she makes with each bite of pain get more debauched with each one. He squeezes the globe of her ass hard after the final hit, and she whines.

"Three, four, fiv-"

He cuts her off before she can finish counting, slapping his hand down hard on her other cheek, grabbing a fistful of her flesh as he makes contact with her, and the noise is less like a slap and more like a dull thud. She arches her back, letting out a filthy noise, and her movement pushes her stomach into his erection. His own breath hitches, the pressure against his cock gratifying, but far too light to be relieving. He brings his hand down hard again in retaliation and her back arches again in response, creating a delicious feedback loop as he lets loose several more hits.

"Six! Seven! E-eightnineten!"

They're both panting now, breath coming out hard and fast while he fondles her. The skin on both her cheeks is tinged red now, and in one spot he can see the outline of a few of his fingers.

Yeah, okay. He gets it now.

This is exhilarating. Having her like this, folded in half for him, completely bare and at the mercy of his every whim. He feels drunk on it. He smoothes his hand up and over the swell of her ass, dances his way along her spine leaving a trail of goosebumps. She sighs and relaxes into him, and he uses the moment of defencelessness to grab a handful of the soft skin around her waist, squeezing and teasing the flesh. She keens in surprise and pleasure.

"You want more?"

She nods.

"Words, Tav."

"Ye-" He brings his hand down brutally on her backside and she cries out. "Yes! Eleven!"

As he soothes the hit he lets his hand trail down between her legs, and she makes a noise in the back of her throat of pure lust. He shudders as he reaches the apex of her thighs.

"Gods, Tav, you're dripping."

She nods so hard he's worried she'll pull a muscle, and he chuckles.

"You like this? You like..." He pauses briefly, unsure if he should finish his sentence, before deciding to continue. "You like when I play with you?"

She groans and pushes back against him, which causes his finger to brush against her clit, and she jolts at the sensation with a whine. He gives her a hard, harsh slap for it.

"Ah! Twelve!"

His cock is aching, and he's so turned on he feels light headed. Hells, she looks beautiful like this; looks beautiful spread out over his lap, waiting for him to touch her. He's losing his patience.

The final three hits he gives her are the harshest yet, and she's reduced to a puddle of pained and pleasured cries. He doesn't give her a chance to count out the slaps before he's hauling her upwards, and he pulls her to straddles his lap as he surges to meet her lips. She mewls as he pulls her hips down, her sore rear stinging at the contact with his robes, and he swallows the noise down greedily. Their tongues lash together, teeth clashing messily, and she grinds down against him. It wrenches a noise from low in his gut, and he drags his lips away from her to grab her hip harshly and slap the top of her ass. As she moans, he wraps his arms around her, bringing her with him as he stands, before turning and throwing her onto the bed.

She doesn't get a chance to adjust before he's manhandling her, flipping her so she's face down in the mattress, and he grabs her hips and yanks them towards him. As one hand works to free his length from his robes, the other places a bruising slap against her. The noise she makes is more pain than pleasure, and he panics for a moment before she pushes back against him. Fuck.

He doesn't even take the time to open her up properly, just frees his cock and grabs her ass with both hands, spreading her open to him as he thrusts into the wet heat of her cunt. She clenches around him and buries her face in the sheets, grabbing a fistful and crying out as he sets a brutal pace.

"Fuck, Tav." He smacks her again, grabbing her as he makes contact and pulling her into him harder. With every snap of his hips, his pelvis slaps against the tender skin and she's dissolving into a puddle of overstimulation and pleasure. " Fuck , Tav, you take me so well. You like taking me like this?"

She whines around her words, "yes! Fuck, Rolan, I'm so close! Please!"

He reaches around her, circles her clit with the pads of two fingers, and within a few moments she's screaming and clenching around him. He grits his teeth and groans as she finishes on his cock, and her body goes limp and pliable as he chases his own release.

When he spends himself inside her, she moans at the feeling of his seed spilling into her, and it has him shuddering and twitching harder.

He collapses forwards, burying his face in her hair, and he runs his hands up her sides.

"Are- Are you-" He takes great gulping gasps between his words. "Are you okay? Was that- that okay?"

Tav doesn't speak, just makes a series of incoherent noises, before freeing an arm from underneath her and making an "okay" sign with her thumb and finger. A laugh barks its way out of Rolan's chest before he can stop it.

"Gods, Tav. That was... Wow."

She laughs a little under him, and tilts her head to the side to speak. "So you didn't hate it?"

"No! Not at all. We can... We can do it again, if you like?"

She lets out a laugh that sounds relived, "yes, please. You're a natural."

He can't help but preen at that. Not bad for an academic, hm?

[minorvamp]

Bullet with Butterfly Wings

Astarion x f!Tav, Explicit

Ascended Astarion, Vampire sex, blood, Vampire bites, AFAB tiefling Tav

"On your knees darling."

But this, this is something entirely new. There's something glinting, sharp and dangerous out of his eyes now. Something deep and dark, pulled up from the recesses of his soul by the ritual. Something not Astarion.

Reposting this from a few weeks ago, because Tumblr decided to not show it on any of the tag feeds.

Title is from the Smashing Pumpkins song of the same name, because I can't hear it without thinking of Astarion

Available on AO3 or under the cut

"On your knees, darling."

The first thing Aranrei feels after sinking to the floor is the press of his cold fingers against her shoulders. The gentle bite of his claws pricking the skin around her collar bones as he leans in behind her. It's a firm touch, possessive even, but not threatening. Not yet.

She shivers as he traces one of those claws up her neck, pulling up a pink welt across her skin that he soothes quickly with his tongue.

"There." She feels his lips pull into that dangerous smile against her skin. "You know how I adore those little shakes of excitement whenever you feel my mouth near that delectable neck of yours. You'll be my undoing, my love."

He presses a trail of kisses up her neck, and she feels her pulse quicken as his lips follow along the artery there, his tongue pressing over his favourite spot where the thrum is strongest. She feels her heart fluttering wildly against the cage of her ribs, nerves, anticipation, fear, as he sets his fangs against her skin. Astarion nips softly, drawing a few pinpricks of blood to dance sweet copper over his tongue. He's delighted by the power he holds over her even with such a delicate touch. The thrill of it washes over him and settles as deep thrum in his groin, pulsing in time with every frantic beat of her heart. He moves his mouth up to tease his tongue over her ear.

"Patience, my sweet. We have an eternity to explore a cornucopia of carnal delights. I have plans for centuries of ecstacy, lost in each other. There's no need to rush so quickly to the main event." The honeyed words, the sultry tone are all so familiar, but as he turns her face towards his, she sees something in his eyes that gives her pause. She's seen them lost, vacant as they were during their first night together. She's seen the melancholy that lingers in them far too often, the fear that sometimes even his most practiced of charming veneers won't hide. She's watched them fill with joy, the lines around them creasing deeply as he laughs at Shadowheart and Lae'zel, their blades at each other's throats. And she's seen them full of white hot rage, the red of his irises burning as he recounted some of the fouler things Cazador had done to him. Or worse, forced him to do to others.

But this, this is something entirely new. There's something glinting, sharp and dangerous out of them now. Something deep and dark, pulled up from the recesses of his soul by the ritual. Something not Astarion.

"You always flush so beautifully for me my darling." He says as he admires the pretty pink blush smudged across her cheeks, the hue lustred by the pale lavender of her skin. He moves to kiss her, and she allows the press of his mouth against hers to push away the doubt that has started gnawing in the pit of stomach. They had made the right decision, he was finally free. Free of Cazador, free of fear, free to live for himself for the first time in 200 years. She had done the right thing.

Aranrei feels the moan rumble through his chest as she takes his bottom lip between her teeth and bites down the way he likes it. Just on the edge of too painful. Responds with her own when he slides that silver tongue against hers, pushing into her mouth to claim every inch of it. His hands smooth over her shoulders before pressing against them, encouraging her to spin around and bare herself to him. He pulls away from the kiss and drinks in the sight of her before him. Her lips and neck bruised a dark purple from his attentions, face and breasts flushed with arousal. "I can taste it, you know. In the air, on your skin, in your blood. I can taste how much you want this. How much you need me."

He pushes her down against the hard wooden boards, but she manages to catch herself on her elbows before her head smacks against the floor. She feels another pang of fear race through her heart as she stares up into his beautiful face. The soft halo of white curls catching in the dim light of the room. The face of the man she loves more than anything else in the realms. A face that could charm all the gods above and below. All hers, but now turned stranger. That dagger smile of his now a smirk cut across it like a gash. The cold steel in his eyes that she doesn't recognise.

She's prey, she realises. That gnawing doubt in her stomach now a lump of cold hard rock. He pushes her legs apart with a foot, taking in the whole of her, before sinking to his knees between her thighs. There's a feline quality to his movements as he slinks up her body, hands coming to a stop either side of her head as he fixes her with that predatory gaze once again. "Astarion, I'm not-"

"You are perfect." He leans down to capture her lips in another kiss, cutting her off before she can bring voice to the feeling. She relaxes into the kiss, allowing the slow grind of his body against hers to reignite the fire inside. Even through his trousers, the insistent press of his hard cock against her soft core leaves her aching for him, and he feels the wetness of her soaking through his clothes. She finds herself helpless to the waves of arousal his well practiced movements pull from her, soothing away her doubts with the stroke of his tongue against hers.

Keeping himself braced above her, his other hand moves to massage her breasts and she breaks the kiss with a gasp. Her pupils are blown as he gently rakes his newly clawed hand down her side, sending yet another shudder of arousal to race through her. He sits up on his knees, hand now stroking its way down his own chest over sculpted muscles before coming to rest over the closure of his britches. He moans decadently as he squeezes his hand over his erection, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he relieves some of the ache of his arousal. It's performance, any good bard would be able to tell, but it sits somewhere on that fuzzy line of exaggerated truth. And it's for her, Aranrei tells herself. They did the right thing.

With a few motions of his deft fingers, he opens his trousers and pulls his cock free from their confines. Gives her another deep moan of pleasure as he pulls his hand over the shaft, twisting slightly as moisture beads at the head. He grins, wicked, at her reaction to him. Leans down over her again and uses his hand to guide his cock to stroke through her wet folds, head rubbing over her swollen clit. Tuts at her when she tries to move her hips to press him into where the ache of her arousal is deepest. "Patience, my love. You've waited so long already, what's a minute more to savour the moment, hmm?"

She suppresses the sudden urge to cover herself, feeling trapped and exposed by the ravenous stare he gives her as he takes in the state of her. Her chest still flushed and now heaving as the anticipation of him starts to overwhelm her. Her hands are desperate for something to dig her claws into, her tail winding around his clothed thigh trying to pull him to her. She's missed him, missed this, so much. Dreamt of this moment a thousand times, where he would trust her and himself enough to share this with her again. And yet the nagging feeling that something isn't quite right resurfaces. Persists through his pretty words, and his touch even as he hitches her thigh against his hip and enters her in one smooth, strong thrust.

She moans his name, long and loud, relieved to finally have him inside of her again, the glorious stretch as he fills her. He responds in kind as the feeling of hot, tight, wet, mine surrounds him. He stills for a moment, enjoying the sensations of her walls fluttering around him, inviting him to thrust deep and hard. To not stop until she's stuffed full of his cock and his cum, his fangs buried in her neck, his name on lips, her blood in his mouth, until she's so full of him that there's no room for her anymore. Until she's mine, all mine, only mine.

He traces a hand down her chest and stomach, feeling the shape of every ridge as he moves it down to her core. She draws in a sharp gasp as his thumb finds her swollen clit, draws the wetness around in small circles across it that have her muscles squeezing vice like around his throbbing cock. "My perfect, pretty consort." He offers her another dangerous smile as he pulls halfway out of her, enjoying the delicious friction as he drags himself out, "I do so love to hear you sing out my name, little bird. Do it again." He thrusts back in, slow and deep, wants to hear her whimper for him.

"Fuck, Astarion. You feel so - I-" she can't help the strangled moan that escapes her as he continues his languorous strokes inside of her. He watches, enraptured by the sight of his cock filling her, watches her as she squirms and whimpers, already so sensitive for him. How could he have been so weak before, to not take this, what was his to own and to treasure. He resists the urge to rut into her, hard and fast, to cum and to take her. He relaxes his jaw to try and relieve some of the ache in his fangs, he won't feel complete until he's claimed her as his. Instead he continues his slow rhythm, pausing to grind deep every time his hips meet hers. A gasp of pleasure falling from his own lips as his sensitive head rubs against the spongy bundle of nerves inside her.

Her lilac skin glows with a sheen of sweat as she rolls her hips to meet his thrusts, twisting slightly to feel every inch of him sliding into her. Their deliberate pace draws out the pleasure, winding them both higher and higher with ecstasy and holding them there, not yet ready to crest and fall. She closes her eyes against the mounting wave he's bringing her to, little gasps and hiccups of pleasure escaping uninhibited every time he grinds against her g-spot. The delicious curve of his cock that fits so perfectly inside her. Like they were both made for this.

She opens her eyes to watch his face, the pleasure dancing across its planes unable to hide the desperate hunger shining in his eyes. She reaches for him, and he allows her to pull him down, burying his face against her neck as his hips finally pick up speed. She traces her fingers down the scars on his back, digs in her claws as her nerve endings start to sing out their joy. Muscles in her lower body growing tense, her thighs gripping his hips and her walls pulling tight as he fills her over and over.

He pants his pleasure into her neck as she clenches hard around his swollen cock, feels her pulse racing under his tongue as the hot, wet pull of her body drives him higher still. "Ah- Ast- I'm cu- Ah!" She chokes over her moans, unable to get the words out. Every thrust of his perfect cock winding the pleasure tighter and tighter in her center, until it's too much to bear. He growls as he bares his fangs, allowing his instinct to take over, and he sinks them into the soft skin of her neck.

Aranrei screams out as he bites her. The sharp pain in her neck is nothing compared to the white hot waves of pleasure now crashing through her body. Her muscles spasm around his cock as her orgasm washes over her, it radiates out from her core sending tingles through to her fingers and she surrenders herself completely to the incredible pleasure he's brought her to. Her world narrows down to the feel of him inside of her, his hips still working relentlessly, his skin under her hands, hair brushing her ears, his mouth at her neck. Every deep suck at her throat sending another wave to wash over her, pulling her deeper and deeper into him, until she's delirious with it.

The rush of her blood into his mouth as she cums is exquisite. He can taste the sweetness of her orgasm as it pours over his tongue, the tingle of magic in her blood better than any nectar of the gods. His hips are frantic now, pumping rapidly to work her through the last of her orgasm as he chases his own. He drives himself into her desperately as she gushes wetness and contracts around him, her blood singing through his body as he drinks. His cock sensitive, swollen, harder than he's ever been and every nerve ending is aflame with pleasure. He rides the delicious agony of almost there, floating higher and higher, desperate to live in this moment with her forever. His moan is a broken sob against her neck as his balls draw up tight against his body before his pleasure finally crests, he thrusts deep and hard one last time before he erupts inside of her.

His vision goes white and there's a roar in his ears as his cock jerks over and over again, painting her walls with ropes of his hot cum. It ripples endlessly through his body as he drinks from her and she trembles through her aftershocks, clenching her muscles sporadically around his over sensitive cock. She is divine in her pleasure, his beautiful saviour and dark consort, and she belongs to him.

And still he drinks. Sucking hard at the puncture wounds on her neck to draw more of her blood down his throat. She starts to lose herself to it, her mind already hazy with pleasure; she feels everything start to wash away with the ebb and flow of her blood as it leaves her body. Her doubts, her worries, her pain, her joy, everything lost to the feel of Astarion at her neck. She relaxes completely, there's no strength left in her muscles to keep her thighs held around his hip, and her arms slide off of his back as darkness starts to cloud her vision. She's left with only one tiny spark of fear, one last thought before her consciousness slips away and everything goes black.

We did the right thing.

He feels as she goes limp underneath him. Thinks he can taste the last drops of life spilling over his tongue before he finally pulls away from her neck to admire his work, cock slipping out of her. She's beautiful. The sheen of sweat still lingering on her pale skin gives her an ethereal glow, the flush of her arousal still present despite her bloodless state. It's a stark contrast to the bloody red mess of her throat, the vulgarity of his seed dripping out of her onto the floor below, the dark bruise of his fingers across her thighs. He's enraptured by the ruin he's brought to her, such a pretty thing to be marred by such violence, and he burns it into his memory.

He shifts up onto his knees and raising his hands he drags a sharp claw across his wrist, satisfied as blood blooms to the surface. He turns her face towards him and gently opens her mouth before holding his bloody wrist over it. He allows one singular drop of his blood to fall into it, dropping onto her tongue and sealing her fate.

He strokes his thumb over her cold cheek, and smiles at her as he waits for the changes to start.

"Oh my love, we're going to have so much fun."

[winpocalypse]

Wincest + 44 ❤️

wincest + kissing out of lust

takes place in 10x03 cause i just watched that (plus mention of ruby feat. demon blood)

“You reek.” The cold material of the hammer brushes against Sam’s Adam’s apple, then presses his chin up. Dean’s voice has that playful edge he’s been using to get on Sam’s nerve the last couple of days. His demon is having fun. “You reek of it.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam tenses his arm that’s pressed tight against the wall. He holds on to the knife, but Dean’s strength against him, from the grip on his wrist to the massive pressure against his whole body is something Sam never experienced before. He never was so clearly in disadvantage against his brother. It feels like being pressed by a truck.

“You reek,” Dean repeats, brushing the hammer against Sam’s neck, almost delicate, just teasing. His eyes travel Sam’s face with a hint of his crow’s feet to mix with the barely there smirk. He’s closer, and now that Sam had a few moments to orient himself after being shoved against the wall, he notices the gap between them closing with every passing second. “Of want. Ya know, not the ‘I want my brother back’ kind, but the much more fun ‘Wouldn't it be great if my brother stuck his tongue down my throat’ kind.”

Sam huffs, fighting against the hold. Demons really crawl out of the filthiest depths. “You are out of your mind.”

Dean considers for a second, like he’s actively thinking about it, and then shrugs. “Must be me, then.” He presses Sam harder against the wall, and his foot kicks between Sam’s legs, pushing one foot to the side and then the other, so Sam slides a few inches in the wall, his knees making way for Dean’s leg. 

Sam goes still, eyes wide, as his brother inhales against his skin, brushing his nose up to Sam’s temple. “But, y’know, Sammy, you do need a shower,” Dean mocks. He aligns his nose with Sam’s, staring at him so close and deep, Sam couldn’t possibly hide any emotion, thought and secret. “Too busy looking for big brother, I bet. I can help you clear the stench. We could be doing something more productive anyway, right? Better than some cat and mouse chase we both know you can't win.”

The hammer slides up, cold, reaching his lips. The claw catches at his bottom lip and Dean’s eyes fall to his mouth, watching. A shiver travels Sam up and down, his chin quivering with it. “Yeah,” Dean whispers.

The burning heat Sam carries all over his body, from the chase, has him sweating, dripping even, from his armpits, neck and temple. One drop of it slides down the side of his face and Dean’s so fast there, Sam closes his eyes from the sudden movement. 

The heat now grows, going up his legs to his crotch, when Dean’s hot tongue traces his sweat in his cheek, leaving a bigger wet trail behind. 

“That’s sweet,” Dean says right by his ear, and Sam’s exhale turns to a pathetic gasp, the taste of the hammer making it into his mouth. He keeps his eyes shut, and now he can feel every place of contact even more, it’s unnerving.   

He feels Dean’s thigh pressing higher, and the bulge that follows. He feels the smooth surface of the hammer's head against his cheek. He feels Dean’s chest, hot and moving, compressing his own chest. He feels the creases and folds of Dean’s lips tracing his jaw to his lips, and the burning breath that enters his mouth and makes all of his neck’s hair stand up. 

Next, the blunt pain of the hammer against his injured arm knocks the heat of his groin and his eyes fly open, but Dean doesn’t let him see anything other than his smartass smirk and amused eyes, he’s so close. “Hey, there,” he says. “Just making sure you’re with me.”

Sam tries calming his rapid breaths as he stares. “Had your fun?”

“Just getting started, Sammy.”

The hammer falls to the ground and Sam watches it fall to his feet, with a frown. Dean grabs his bicep over the arm sling and squeezes the wrist of the other arm. Sam lets the blade go with a hiss and Dean’s tongue drowns the sound between their open mouths. Sam’s shock is yanked out of him when Dean pulls the trapped hand to his shoulder, opening Sam’s fingers to the fabric of the red shirt.

Sam’s burning up so much he could be delirious. Maybe that is why he’s not pushing his brother away. Maybe that’s why he’s opening up his mouth, resting his crotch on Dean’s leg, and actually pulling him closer by the shirt. 

Demon’s run hot, he remembers that much. Ruby always seemed an active volcano, every little touch elevated for it, even a measly shoulder brush. 

Dean runs hotter.

His tongue could be burning holes in Sam’s mouth, the way it explores every inch inside, leaving no room for protest or even for air. 

Sam breaks the kiss, but Dean follows, and he has to turn his face to the side, leaving his ear free for his brother to lick inside. “Let me breathe,” he whispers. There’s barely any voice left, just puffs of air. 

“Shut up.” Dean grabs him by the chin, leading him back, and the force of the kiss has his head banging against the wall, and Sam pinches his fingers against Dean’s shoulder and biceps, some pathetic form of getting back at him.

It does nothing, of course.

His fingers tremble where he holds them tight and his knees buckle when the metallic taste hits him. It’s familiar and completely new at the same time. He tightens all his face muscles, trying to get away. 

He loves it. He gags with it. He grinds against the thigh holding him up. 

This time when he backs up from the kiss, Dean doesn’t follow. He actually moves a couple inches away himself, lifting his red tainted smile for Sam. 

“Bet you missed it.”

“Don’t—”

Sam stares. Dean’s hands are on either side of the wall now, caging him in. He’s got his legs so intertwined with Sam’s he has absolute control over his movements.  

They breathe each other’s air for a few seconds, Dean’s smile never wavering, and all the while Sam has his gaze fixed on the red painting Dean’s teeth and lips. 

And he dives for more. 

He licks all of the blood out of Dean’s teeth, out of his lips, his cheeks. He even finds the crease where Dean bited his tongue. He sucks on it, moans around it, and Dean laughs through it all, giving as much back as he gets.

With spit running down his chin, fingers sore from holding on so tight, and knees weak, Sam slides down the wall when Dean removes his leg from under him. He goes slow, both of them still holding and breathing and sucking on each other. 

Sam lets out a sharp breath, breaking the kiss and licking Dean’s taste of his mouth, dazed. He’s on his knees, barely standing as it is, with Dean bending over him, his eyes black and lips swollen around his smile. He pats Sam’s head, then tugs at his hair, holding his brother’s gaze up. 

“Good boy.”

[too-deviant]

mdni 🃏 second in command!reader is back and is very pissed off…

you’ve grown accustomed to the plush mattress of the master suite on the princess andromeda — despite never sleeping on it.

you know the best combination of pillows to pile up under your back when luke props you up onto the headboard so you don’t feel that ache in your lower spine from the awkward angle.

you know not to sit too close to the edge of the bed — more towards the middle, so that when luke spreads your thighs so far apart you can feel the burn in the crease of your groin, your knee doesn’t knock against the edge of the nightstand and make you hiss into his mouth.

you know not to grip the fitted sheet between your knuckles because it always comes loose from the mattress whenever you do, so instead you squeeze luke’s hip, scratch on his back.

you also know that the bruises on his knuckles aren’t from inflicting pain on other people, but from slipping his hand in the space between the headboard and the wall to cushion the banging noise that comes from his persistent thrusts into you. you know the blood stains on his t-shirt aren’t from a nasty battle, but from that time you bit into his shoulder so hard you broke skin.

you know that if his right hand twitches at his side, you should ready your spear for a fight, but if his left hand stars twitching, you should start loosening the straps of your armour.

but while you’ve committed all these little ticks to memory, luke remains unpredictable. sure, you know how to decipher the looks he sends you, and what combination of movements will make him cum the hardest.

but when you meet with the newest gaggle of demigods that have deflected from camp half-blood, it becomes a whole new playing field.

because that used to be you — quiet, unsure, new. desperate to please the man who would be your leader. but none of these people could become the next you, because they didn’t know the things you did.

right?

surely not.

but then luke starts sending them on missions — the same ones you went on before you got promoted to better things. he starts waking up earlier so he can watch over their training modules. modules that you used to run, but now he is insistent on taking over.

you weren’t stupid. so which one was it? was it the perky daughter of aphrodite? the rugged but submissive son of ares? which one was luke keeping that special eye on? which one got extra special attention, better missions, time alone with luke in the state room?

you shouldn’t be as bothered as you are — but it’s not jealousy. no, it’s just…worry. you worked too hard to get where you are for some newbie to come along and ruin it for you after two weeks on the ship. they didn’t deserve what you had.

that much was made abundantly clear when luke put you in charge of an extraction mission in washington. what a fool he was, picking the newbies to join your team. they weren’t ready for something so taxing. it took almost a month before you were sent on your first extraction, what was so special about them?

it appeared tyche was on your side that day. you were too angry to think rationally and just went in swinging, not a care for strategy or form. and even though luke’s new bimbos provided zero help, you managed to wrangle yourselves out alive and successful.

you stormed your way back onto the andromeda without so much as a glance in their direction. straight to the state room, straight to where luke was waiting for a mission report.

“did kronos smack you upside the head?”

well, you weren’t giving him a report. you were done — he could do whatever he wanted with his new toys, you didn’t care. but don’t send them on missions they aren’t ready for just because they’re an easy lay. your words were sharp talons, just like he’d taught you — and he stood there and took it. face placid, hands in his pockets, calm and quiet until you were done.

and when you were, he laughed.

that asshole laughed at you. perfect teeth on display, sword swinging as he rocked on his feet in complete hilarity. you could tuck your tail between your legs and walk off, let him dump you.

or you could remind him of all the things you know — all the things his warm bodies would never learn, because they weren’t you.

you’d only seen such visceral shock on his expression once, and that was when percy jackson highjacked the boat. this time, however, it was because you had folded your arms, tilted your head, and told him to take off his pants.

and he did — ah ah, slowly. he unbuttoned his cargos and pushed them to his ankles, all the while holding a sick smirk and even sicker eye contact.

and just before he could remove his shirt on your command, he huffed, “just so you know. i wouldn’t take orders like these from anyone else but you.”

you never did see those demigods again.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

I wanna request a spicy fic with Matt saying “i wanna taste you. are you gonna let me? hm?”

Thanks!! 🙈

love it! I thought of a fun idea to include in it, hehe, hope you like it. thank you for requesting 💌 also sorry it took so long

before breakfast snack (matt x f reader)

wc || <1k

warnings || oral (f receiving)

a/n || 🐱eating pro

masterlist + rules

taglist

Most mornings you’d wake up with Matt’s hard cock pressed up against your back, it was something so familiar, something you were used to. Usually, he’d try to forget about the ache in his groin as you’d never have time before work, but luckily for you guys, it was the weekend so you had plenty.

Waking up to soft delicate kisses along your shoulder and neck, sweet nothings being whispered into your ear. “Wake up Angel, wake up.” Leaving a trail of wet patches along your jaw until he got to your lips. Now fully awake you look up at him, smiling as you gazed at his dishevelled bed hair.

“Morning pretty boy.” You sweetly coo.

“G‘morning… I want to taste you, Angel, are you gonna let me? Hm?” He lingers, tangling his fingers into your hair as he kisses down your throat.

Is that even a question. Using your hands to tent the covers giving him more access to slide down you.

“I want to taste you on my tongue all day princess.” Softly breathing over your exposed stomach as he trails down you.

Holy shit.

Spreading your thighs to allow him to lay comfortably between them, raising your hips as he lifts your pyjamas underneath your ass. He pulls the remaining fabric off your legs and tosses them on the floor from under the covers.

You tent the sheets once more to allow him some extra air under the stuffy covers, but he doesn’t seem to care.

Gently nibbling and suckling up your thighs, stopping when he gets to the crease. He begins to pucker warm wet kisses around your clit, practically worshipping it.

His tongue lays flat against your folds as he swipes up in a tantalising motion. Your fingers weave into his roots as you hold his head for some sort of relief. Softly whining his name as he kisses over your clit. He loved it when you said his name during these moments, it lit up something within him.

Tongue slips down as his lips weave between your folds, kissing and gently tugging them. His hums of pleasure vibrate deep inside you as he flicked his tongue over your clit. Caressing it with warm wet pressure. Momentarily separating to praise you. “You taste so good.”

Looking down at him under the covers, watching how he was so focused as if he was completely enamoured with you. Noticing the way his eyebrows quirk as if he’s got an idea.

“I got a game…” he says suggestively with a devious smirk on his lips.

“Go on.” You curiously reply.

“You got to guess what I’m spelling.” Grinning wider as he gets more comfortable between your thighs.

“How?”

He doesn’t respond in words but does it with actions instead. This tongue is pointed over your clit as he moves it to make letters, spelling something that you have to figure out.

Slowly working his tongue over your sensitive mound, spelling his name as if you belonged to him. You thought he was done, but no, gasping at the way he spelt his last name.

“Did you spell Matthew Murdock, by any chance?” You ask breathlessly.

“Mhm, because you’re mine.”

Fingers grip tighter in his hair as he continues sucking and kissing your clit, edging you dangerously close.

Matt doesn’t falter in motion, he continues to give you exactly what you want and need, not wanting to disrupt your assent.

Working his mouth over your nub as you creamed on his tongue, chest rising and falling heavily as you whined his name. It only fuelled his ego, so he continued to caress your clit until it got too oversensitive.

Your trembling thighs around his head told you that it might be getting too much so he kisses lightly back up your stomach until he got to your face. Tenderly kissing your lips as he wrapped his arm around you to snuggle into him.

“What do you want for breakfast?” He says serenely.

Cuddling into his side more, “kinda want some sausage.” You flirt.

Head bobbing on his chest as he laughs. “You got it, Angel.”

[liminalmemories21]

Seven Sentence Sunday

tagged by @lemonlyman-dotcom, @sanjuwrites, and @strandnreyes. Thank you!

I feel like this is proof that anything can be seven sentences if you try hard enough. All hail the run-on sentence.

TK props himself up on his elbows, watching, and then his head falls back at the first touch of Carlos's tongue, low moan filling the room. Carlos takes his time, pursing his lips against the head in a wet messy kiss, and then licking his way down the shaft, burying his nose in the crease of TK's groin, inhaling until he can smell the familiar scent of TK under lavender and soap, lets his mouth move lower, sucking each ball into his mouth, one at a time, while TK curses, and threads a hand into his hair.  Carlos smiles, as much as he can with his mouth full, and pushes TK's legs wider, bends his knees so his feet are flat on the edge of the bed and shoulders his way between TK's thighs, and holds his ass cheeks apart so he can dip lower, press wet open mouthed kisses to his asshole, lick and tease at the rim while TK gasps for air.  He'd never really done this before TK - in either direction, always felt too intimate - but he loves this.  Loves the way it takes TK apart, loves the noises he makes, the feel of TK on his tongue, the smell of TK at his most real.  He scrapes gently with his teeth and hears TK muffle a whine, and does it again, shoving his tongue in as far as he can, and then reaches for the lube he'd grabbed earlier, slicking two fingers and pushing them in with his tongue - TK wet and sloppy enough that it's barely a stretch, and TK hiccups for breath, begging for more.  He scissors his fingers, licking between them, and the grip TK has on his hair tightens until it's almost painful and he works his tongue harder, crooks his fingers.

tagging @freneticfloetry, @carlos-tk, @three-drink-amy, @iboatedhere, and @reyesstrand

[meaninglessblah-writes]

For the Nanowrimo - 🦇🐦 👂 💄

Thank you for helping me work towards my Nanowrimo goal! 💙

Bruce's mouth is hot above the collar of Dick's dress shirt. He feels too warm beneath his layers, sweat-sticky where Bruce's palm slides up over his hip.

"Bruce," he warns, and bites the rest off when the man sucks a bruise into the skin of his throat.

Dick's lips feel tender. Between all that he's been biting them, and Bruce's ferocious kisses, he's sure they're a violent shade of red. Anyone could tell, just from the sight of him, exactly what they've been doing.

Outside the tinted glass of the limousine, a horde of paparazzi are pressing against the car. They're a dull roar in the back of Dick's mind, the flashes of their cameras briefly illuminating the cabin as Dick straddles Bruce's lap.

Even knowing its one-way glass, even knowing they can't possibly see the pair of them rutting on the leather seats, Dick can't help but feel seen.

It makes him hot, makes him squirm on Bruce's thighs. The broad hand on his hip keep him close, Dick's fingers tight on Bruce's lapels.

Bruce's other hand is massaging the crotch of Dick's pants, squeezing him through the dark material of his slacks. Making Dick rise on every other stroke, lashes fluttering.

"Bruce," he tries again, struggling to collect his thoughts when Bruce has his head spinning. "We should go inside."

"They can wait," Bruce answers bluntly. Dick shivers, forehead dipping towards the older man's shoulder when those thick fingers slide past his zipper.

The lace panties Dick is wearing are gossamer thin — the finest Wayne money can buy. Accenting the lean line of his stomach, and the thick curve of his cock. They let the heat of Bruce's fingertips bleed into him, ticklish beneath his gentle touches.

Dick's cheeks feel like they're blazing, and he squeezes his eyes shut against another camera's flash. Bruce hooks a finger into his slacks, pulling them wide so he can admire how the blue lace looks against Dick's warm skin. Chasing the blush that spirals down through Dick's groin with slow, possessive fingers.

Bruce seems to be in no hurry, nails scratching down the lines of Dick's cum gutters, rumpling his neatly pressed shirt. He's not going to have a chance to straighten it before they have to head in to the gala. Everyone is going to see the creases in Dick's shirt, the heat in his cheeks, and know. The thought has Dick's blood thrumming.

Bruce rubs the lace between his fingers, a quiet smirk curling the edge of his lips. Dick feels unbelievably self-conscious, the sensation foreign and intoxicating. "Did you wear these just for me?"

Dick moans, tongue caught between his teeth, and nods.

"Lascivious," Bruce accuses. His other hand falls to the curve of Dick's ass, squeezing hard to have Dick's head tossing. He rocks his hips down, grinding himself against Bruce's knuckles and lap. Seeking a friction Bruce is in no hurry to give him.

That hand continues down, tucking past Dick's waistband to dip between his cheeks, pressing the delicate lace of the panties against Dick's hole.

He shifts, whimpering when Bruce circles that furl of muscle.

"Someone will hear," Dick whines.

"Good," Bruce rumbles, like there isn't a crowd of paparazzi with cameras eager to snap a shot of Brucie Wayne debauching his former ward. "Get loud for me."

Dick shakes his head, lips parting on a gasp when Bruce's finger presses in and withdraws almost immediately.

"I want to hear that pretty song of yours," Bruce continues, fucking him shallowly on one fingertip. "I want to hear how obscene you can be."

Dick lifts a hand to brace against the ceiling of the limousine, needing the reassurance that he's not going to float away. He feels dizzy with his arousal, like he could lift right out of Bruce's lap.

"Sing for me, Dick," Bruce rumbles against Dick's throat, fisting his cock. "Nice and loud."

Dick can't help but tilt his head back and shout.

8,602 / 50,000

Help me reach my goal!

[oh-bonerline]

21 pls

21…on a place of insecurity.

“Are my knees too low?” Matty asks, standing in his underwear and looking at himself in the full length mirror. He reaches down to touch his knees, and then touches his hip, as if he’s measuring the distance between them.

Ross watches him from the hotel bed where he’s been waiting for the last fifteen minutes, naked and ready to go. He props himself up on his elbows to look at Matty’s reflection. “Seem fine to me,” he says.

He pulls the sheet back a little, hoping to entice Matty to finally come to bed. A little side dick as a treat. But Matty is too focused to be distracted by the tasteful drape of a bed sheet. 

“Google how far your knees should be from–” He gestures to the place where his leg meets the rest of him. “Whatever the fuck this part of your body is called. Leg socket?” 

Matty has been lurking around the fan Instagram accounts again, taking all of their jokes and memes too personally, too seriously. He is on the verge of spiraling into anxiety and insecurity if Ross doesn’t do something soon.

Ross sighs and picks up his phone, pretending to google. “Oh, interesting,” he says with a frown. He fake scrolls and furrows his brow dramatically. “Huh.” 

“What?” Matty turns around with a look of absolute fear on his face. “They are too low, aren’t they? What does it say? Tell me.” 

Ross looks up at him and then back down at his phone, pretending to read, “It says here your knees are fucking perfect and you should come fuck your man now.” He tosses the phone on the bed somewhere and gets on all fours, crawling to the foot of the bed where Matty is standing.

“It says that?” Matty asks, cheeks turning red, eyes going soft. 

Ross gets up on his knees on the mattress and reaches for Matty’s hips, pulling him in. “Crazy, innit?” he says, kissing Matty. 

“Some might say unbelievable,” Matty says as Ross’ mouth moves to his neck, his shoulders. 

“Would I lie to you?” His mouth moves to Matty’s chest, teasing a nipple between his teeth. 

“When you’re looking for a fuck, yes,” Matty says, his breath catching. “Bloody fucking liar.” 

Ross doesn’t bother arguing. He just lowers himself so he can kiss Matty’s stomach, hips, his cock through his underwear. Matty’s body reels forward at that, but Ross moves away quickly, continuing downward. 

“You really think my knees are perfect?” Matty asks, voice shaking as Ross licks at the crease between his thigh and groin. 

In answer to his question, Ross presses his mouth to one of Matty’s knees, holding it there for a few seconds, and then moving to the other knee. He goes back and forth, kissing and biting at the skin of Matty’s knees until Matty is laughing and pushing him away, pushing him back onto the bed, and climbing on top of him. 

“Can I fuck my man now?” he asks, pressing his hips into Ross’. 

“Say your knees are perfect first,” Ross says and he deftly flips them over so he’s on top.

Matty looks up at him with disbelieving adoration on his face. As if he’s startled to find that he’s loved like this. As if he didn’t know already that Ross worships every part of his body. As if he’s being told for the first time that he’s worthy. He pulls Ross down by his beard to kiss him. “My knees are perfect,” he says quietly. 

Ross sits back so he can slide Matty’s underwear down and off. “Say it again,” he says.

“My knees are perfect,” he says and Ross takes his cock in hand, feels it start to grow hard.

“Louder,” he says, squeezing gently.

“My knees are perfect,” Matty says, louder but through gritted teeth as he pushes his hips up into Ross’ hand. 

“Once more with feeling now,” Ross says, grinning and starting to stroke him slowly. 

“My knees are fucking perfect,” Matty all but yells. Half affirmation, half exasperation. He sits up and turns them over again, getting back on top of Ross. His perfect knees–maybe a bit knobbly, maybe getting a bit old in an acting-up-when-it-rains way, but still perfect–pinned on either side of Ross’ hips. “Now can I fuck my man?” “Yes,” Ross says. And then Matty adjusts his hips and their bodies slot together just right, just like they always do, and yet every time Ross’ skin buzzes like he’s never been touched before. Every time his brain short circuits like the sensation is brand new and way too much. Every time his heart starts beating like it’s chasing after something that might get away.

[pure-garbage]

Silent Cues! Mounting Evidence To Support The Theory

Nami was wrong about the log pose and the straw hats set sail the next morning. Most of the crew fished. Robin lounged on deck with a thick tome, Sanji fawned over her and Zoro and Lana worked through their routines.

"We're going to go over something different today," Zoro announced before meditation time.

"Oh? Is this about yesterday?" Lana ventured. She studied his expression, but it betrayed nothing out of the ordinary. He only nodded, leaving her curiosity unsatisfied. She'd stayed up late behind Nami's grove the night before replaying the events of the day and wondering if she was wrong to read into any of it.

'Is it just wishful thinking? I would be so happy if I found out Robin's theory was right. If Zoro really does want more than friendship, the same way I do... sometimes it seems that way, but...'

"Ideally, you'd never let an opponent get their hands on you," he explained, oblivious to her internal monologue. "But since you can't even avoid being pinned by me-"

"You're freakishly fast and strong, don't forget," Lana scowled.

"The line's full of pirates who can match or best me, so that's hardly an excuse," he scolded her.

"Fine, fair point. So?"

"Before you interrupted me..."

"Right. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted. Today I'm going to show you how to escape after your weak ass gets pinned by a superior opponent. Which, at your skill level, is almost all opponents."

"Hey!" Lana fumed.

"If you don't like my assessment, surpass it."

"Fine."

"Now don't bother dodging."

Lana stayed obliging still while he grabbed her from behind.

Thump!

She swallowed hard and steadied her breathing with conscious effort even as her heartbeat reacted uncontrollably to his touch.

"Any ideas on how to get out of this one?" he asked, breath tickling the shell of her ear.

"Um..."

Lana pulled against his hold, to no avail.

"Hm. No, honestly, feels like I'm pretty much boned," she admitted.

'You're not," he assured her. "I'll teach you a neat trick. Widen your stance. One foot forward, one back."

"Okay."

"Now roll. Throw all your weight forward, mine too. Do it fast."

Lana's brow creased as she envisioned what would happen.

"Won't that hurt? A Lot?"

"Tuck your face."

"Not me, you!"

"I'll be fine. Do it. Go on!"

Hm... 'kay," she grumbled, caving to his urging.

She did it, executing the move almost seamlessly. Zoro grunted, rolled hard between Lana and the deck.

"Huh. You tucked too," she realized as he released her to reward her success.

"I did, but you can tell that would have been nasty if I wasn't prepared. That was good for a first try," he commended her.

"Thanks, but... what if my opponent's prepared? Like you were?"

"No one with any real experience is gonna grab you that way, and that's the reason why," he explained.

"I see. So that was basics."

"Exactly. Now... let's try this one."

Zoro drove Lana back against the mast, duplicating last night's pose.

"Can you break free?"

"Can I play dirty?"

"I never heard of a pirate needing permission to pull a trick," he smirked.

"Well in that case... you're wide open like this," she observed. "I could headbutt you."

She tapped her forehead to his playfully.

"You could, but if you do it like that you'll daze yourself as much as me," Zoro pointed out. "Do it like this instead."

He bumped his brow lightly on her jaw.

"It won't hurt you as much, but it'll send the other guy reeling. That all you got?"

"Well... if I'm taking cheap shots..."

Lana blushed furiously, but forced herself to follow through. She bumped her knee against his groin, light as a feather and quick as a whip. She was there and gone before she had the chance to feel anything of interest and she wasn't sure whether she was more relieved or disappointed by that fact.

"That is a cheap shot," Zoro chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Could be effective though... if you can land the hit. Try it again. For real this time."

"Zoro, no! I don't wanna-"

"You won't hurt me. Go on, Lana, try it."

She scowled unhappily but brought her knee up again, forceful as well as fast this time. She gasped harshly as he intercepted with his own knee at lightning speed, pushing hers aside easily and effectively forcing her legs apart. His hips slammed into hers, crushing her body between his and the mast. The impact smooshed all the air out of her lungs along with a strained little groan.

"You see the problem with that strategy?" he asked, his face once again breathtakingly close to hers. She could only manage to nod, momentarily overwhelmed by her body's primal reaction to the intense, scorching pressure of his as it trapped her.

'He must be doing this on purpose!' she thought. 'There's no way he doesn't know what he's doing to me... is there? Is he just that focused? That combat-oriented?'

Zoro's dark eyes sparkled with mischief, but the fact that he was having a good time didn't tell her what she wanted to know.

Lana had no way of knowing, but Zoro was actually thinking something very similar.

'She's so flustered... is she just frustrated because she's outmatched?'

He forced himself to pull back from her. He thought he saw a flash of disappointment cross her features, but he couldn't be sure.

"So then... what should I do instead?" Lana managed, regaining some composure now that there was a little space between them.

"Well for starters, if anyone's ever stupid enough to get as close to you as I just did, rip their throat out with your teeth," Zoro grinned.

"Be serious!"

"I'm not joking!"

"Fine, I'm not bothered by the taste of blood," Lana retorted, returning his demonic smirk with savage gusto that made his dark heart skip a beat. "And if they don't get close enough for that?"

"You're pretty flexible, yeah?"

"Fairly."

"Think you can get your feet up to my chest?"

"Both, or just one?"

"Both is good, one would work fine."

"I think I see what you're getting at here. Want me to push?"

"As hard as you can."

"Force you back."

"Exactly."

Lana had another idea. She brought her leg up, didn't stop at his chest. She moved higher with a grunt, hooking her knee around the back of his neck swiftly. His eyes widened with surprise, the only reaction he had time for. Lana turned his own high center of gravity against him again, throwing hard to the side and driving them both down onto the deck. He recovered quickly and the ensuing scuffle ended with him straddled atop her, her wrists pinned high while they both panted.

"That's not what I told you to do!" he berated her.

"I took you down though, didn't I?" Lana chuckled, way to pleased with herself given the outcome.

"Sure, but now what're you gonna do?" he countered.

"Hm... uh... well, crap. I'll come up with something."

"Will you now?"

"Unless you've got another move for me."

"Another move for you to ignore?"

"You're so freaking catty," Lana complained with a roll of her eyes. "I'll use your move if I'm ever in a serious jam. I promise. So? How do I survive this one?"

"This one? That's tough. There's not a clever way out and you're not strong enough to force your way free."

"So I just need to keep getting stronger," Lana reasoned.

"Yep. And if someone gets you on the ground like this before you're strong enough to overwhelm them..."

Zoro stood and offered her a hand up. She accepted it with a pained groan, already feeling the consequences of their short-lived wrestling match. Zoro didn't release her hand right away.

"... just start yelling my name as loud as you can," he instructed her. He squeezed her hand, holding her gaze intently. "Got it?"

"You tease too much," Lana said dismissively.

"Not this time. Say you will, Lana. Just in case. 'Kay?"

She realized he was being earnest. He still had her hand.

"Yeah, alright," she assured him. "Just 'til I'm strong enough to handle it myself. Which won't be long now, right?"

Zoro only smiled in response, then stretched and yawned.

"I'm gonna fit a nap in," he said as he settled down. "I've got the late watch again tonight."

Lana left him to it. She caught Robin watching them over the top of her book, eyes sparkling with intrigue.

_____________________________________________

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