#wine red shirt mens

[club-cheongyang]

[shellshocklove]

brat! | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is having a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes, reader wears a dress, heels and lipstick but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, manhandling, a little exhibitionism? fingering, choking, spitting, a little dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), cock worship, spanking, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), creampie, one use of the word ‘daddy’, no use of y/n

a/n: this was fun! and naughtier than i thought it was gonna be 💀 i’ve never written a reader so far removed from my own personality lol and i’m kind of obsessed with how this turned out. anyways stream brat by charlie xcx and happy reading! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Blitzes of red, green, and blue danced before your eyes. The beating in your temples in tune with the bass vibrating in your chest. Around you the faceless bodies moved in slow motion. The heat rose around you as the sweat clung to your skin.

You’re sure you’ve lost your friends. Well, not lost lost. They were in the dancing crowd somewhere. Behind you, the same ugly guy had been rubbing up against you for a minute too long. You knew because you’d tipped your head back once and his borderline bowl cut hair, polo shirt with deep sweat rings under his arms, and tan chinos, were not it.

His breath stank of tequila when he leaned into your ear, “Hey,” he slurred, “wanna get out of here?”

And that had been your cue to leave.

With a scoff, you turned around to get a good look at him. You’d sized him up, made a show of it, and laughed in his face. Then you pushed your way through the crowd, coming up for air by the bar.

The earlier buzz you’d been sailing on, had weaned off a long time ago. It had been last minute, you weren’t even going out tonight, just having dinner with your childhood friends while you were home for the summer. But then one of them had ordered shots for the table just as the last plate had been cleared, and soon you were at the club cruising on a couple of glasses of wine and a lousy shot. Not that it mattered, usually you ended up twirling some sorry man around your finger long enough to get yourself a couple of rounds, before you’d excuse yourself to the ladies’ room and leave with your friends.

Looking down the bar, you searched for tonight’s victim.

To your right a group of girls huddled around the edge, waiting for their own drinks by the looks of it.

Not them.

Down to your left, a boy with a face full of acne fumbled with his card as he paid for a round of beers. He didn’t even look old enough to be in here, but that wasn’t your problem. You had to hold back a laugh as you watched him struggle to figure out how to carry the five beers he’d ordered back to his friends. He ended up gathering them in a circle to wrap his hands around, and you’d seen this go wrong plenty of times to feel the pull of an amused smile on your lips.

When he’d vanished into the crowd, your eyes flicked back to the bar, to the man sitting there– and he was a man. Probably somewhere in his fifties you reckoned, but he looked gorgeous. A real dilf. Your interest was piqued.

You slid down the bar.

He didn’t look particularly amused where he sat at a bar stool, nursing a beer in his hands. Who sits at the bar in the club? He looked nice. Brown hair, dark jeans, and a grey t-shirt stretched deliciously over his chest. When you got closer you could see a flannel resting beside him on the bar.

Is this what older men wear to the club these days?

He didn’t seem to notice you as you sat down next to him – either that, or he ignored you. You kinda wished for the latter, it would make it more fun.

You gave him a few more minutes of silence, of your presence, to see if he’d say something to you. When he didn’t you asked him over the music, “Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink?”

You said it innocently, but like it was obvious and he hadn’t caught on yet. His head turned towards you, still unamused, but with his eyebrow raised.

Okay, you could work with that.

You didn’t say anything as he studied you, drank you in like you’d done to him from afar. You felt his gaze over your clinging dress, your bare shoulders, before they found your eyes.

Something tickled in your core, and you were reminded of how long it had been since you’d been properly fucked– fucked by someone who wasn’t some drunk guy at your college’s parties, but fucked by someone who knew what they were doing.

The man turned towards you; a smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

“Does that usually work f’you, sweetheart?”

You weren’t expecting his rebuttal, but you liked it. He wasn’t some boy who’d trip over himself for the privilege of being in the presence of you. The boys – they made it too easy – but this man would make you work for it.

Putting on your most saccharine smile you slid closer to him, “You looked so lonely over here– thought I’d keep you company.”

A scoffing laugh escaped him, and his head dipped, “’s that so?” His eyes found yours again.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you ignored his question, and brushed your heeled foot up the length of his calf.

“Ain’t ever been here before,” he kept his eyes on your face, his drawl pulling at the words and twisting up your insides.

“So, a virgin, huh?” you teased, and that seemed to amuse him.

“What– you’re here to pop my cherry?”

This time an amused smile pulled at your face. You liked this man. “Not without a drink first,” your foot slid down his calf, “what do you take me for?”

A bright sense of pride filled your chest when you made him laugh, filling you up with confidence.

“D’you want me to answer that?” he rebutted.

He didn’t say it with any malice, it was teasing and playful, and it pulled at the veil inside you. A genuine smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, “Probably not.”

“What can I getcha, then, sweetheart?”

“G&T?” you said, and bit down on your bottom lip coquettishly.

Turning away from you, the man got the attention of the bartender. You watched his profile, followed the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose. You decided then and there that your night was gonna end in this man’s bed.

“Sooo,” you sang, when you’d gotten your drink, “first time here, huh?” The man just nodded, before he sipped his beer.  

Not much of a talker, huh?

“You here alone, or? With the wife maybe?”

That pulled a laugh from him. “I’m here with my lil’ brother… bachelor party,” he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten dragged in here, “he’s gettin’ married next month.”

“Ah,” you nodded and took a sip of your drink. “So, where are you heading next? A strip club?” you teased.

The man just shot you an unimpressed look, and you thought about how you’d never seen a man look so out of place, ever.

“What? The wife won’t let you?”

A sharp huff escaped him, “Ain’t got no wife no more,” he said matter-of-factly.

You took another sip of your drink to hide the smile from forming.

Bingo.

“I take it you’re a man who does what he wants, then?” you said it innocently, and subtly slid your hand over his knee. His eyes caught yours at the touch, and you swore you saw something change in them.

You’d hooked him now, all you had to do was reel him in.

He turned his body towards you – he did it slowly, like every muscle he moved had been calculated beforehand. Then he leaned in closer, his hot breath huffing against your ear.

“Takes one to know one, ain’t that right?”

Under your skin, you buzzed, your heart beating out of your chest at the new proximity. You had to stay cool, play it off, act unbothered. So, you pulled away slightly, and turned your head to meet his eyes.

“What?” he challenged with a raise of an eyebrow, “Ain’t used to people talkin’ back?”

When you didn’t say anything right away, a smug grin coated his lips, “Yeah, I know girls like you.”

“There’s no girls like me,” you argued back, his confidence both pissing you off, and turning you on at the same time.

“Oh, but there are– Spoiled daddy’s girls who ain’t had anyone tellin’ them no their whole life. They do what they want, and play with who they want– I know a brat when I see one.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as he pulled away, that infuriating smug grin not going anywhere. The worst part was that he was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“But you like that don’t you?” you challenged, “I bet you live in some sad house in a sleepy suburban cul-de-sac, go to the same boring job every day, and wish your wife never left you.”

A flash of hurt could be seen across his face as those last words left your lips, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far. A beat of silence passed between you, the buzzing beat of the club music keeping the tune of the tension building.

You were about to apologize when he finally spoke, “You’re a rude one, aren’t ya?”

His voice didn’t sound as hurt as you’d thought, and you realize he was playing your game. You almost had him.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you challenged, hammering the final nail in the coffin.

“That depends on you, sweetheart.”

Outside the club, Joel (the man had finally introduced himself) leaned against the bricks of the alley as you fished a cigarette from your purse. According to your phone, your uber would be there in ten minutes. The fresh air had sobered you up slightly, exchanging the buzzing alcohol in your veins with excitement.

You didn’t know what you were in for.

Over your skin, you felt his gaze roll over you, and you let him look. Let him study your body filling out your sheer, white, almost see-through dress. You didn’t offer him a cigarette; he’d have to ask for it himself, or take it, if he wanted a drag.

“So,” you took a drag of your cigarette, savoring the first tar-y breath, before exhaling through your nose, “where are you taking me?”

Joel shifted his weight against the bricks as his arms crossed over his wide chest. “Whatchu call it? My sad house?” he said, his voice bordering on cold if it wasn’t for the smug smile covering his features.

You gave him a sultry look as you stepped closer, crossing one heeled foot in front of the other, slowly.

“Mmm,” you hummed, as you tilted your head with an uninterested face, “Sounds fucking boring to me.” Your finger climbed up his chest, eyes traveling from his chest to his face. His stern face gave nothing away, as you took another drag of your cigarette and blew the smoke in his face.

Finally, he’d had enough. His large hand wrapped around your wrist, and tightened, before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. You let out an exaggerated huff as your body hit the bricks, your cigarette slipping from your fingers. He pushed himself up against you, and you couldn’t contain the satisfied grin on your face, pleased to have pushed his buttons enough to finally act.

“Oh, I’ll show you boring, brat.”

A rough hand danced up the side of your thigh and under the hem of your dress. Challenging him, you squirmed against the grip of his other hand around your wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, and he was so close now you felt his breath ghost over your lips. With a twist of your arm, he pinned it behind your back, Joel now completely in control, and a buzz of arousal spread through your body at the thought.

“You listen’ up now, and I’m only gonna say it once: you’re gonna do as I say, when I say it, and no talkin’ back, we clear?” His voice was stern, but his dark brown eyes gave him away; how they’d widened with lust, blown out and dark. Your panties already soaked at the thought of what he had in mind for you tonight.

“Yes,” you said playfully, biting down at your bottom lip through a smile.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected as his rough hand on your thigh slid closer and closer to the seam of your thong. “Good girls who do as they’re told get rewarded, you understand?”

You nodded, sucking in a breath as you felt his fingers brush over your clit lightly. He was testing you now, teasing you, and pushing your buttons. You felt like you were on fire, burning from arousal; it licked up your thighs and flickered bright in your core.

Where was that fucking uber?

“But you ain’t no good girl,” he snickered, sliding his hand past your panties, “teasin’ me– tryna provoke me,” he shook his head, and a slick sound of your arousal could be heard as he worked two thick fingers through your wet folds.  

His finger poked at your hole where it ached for him. The thick tension between you weighed heavy with arousal as Joel leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Imma have to punish you for that, baby, put you in your place.”

A gasp left your lips as he pressed two fingers inside. The stretch stung slightly, but you welcomed the pain, liked it. A satisfied grin blossomed over your face as he started moving his fingers. They felt so good inside of you, so thick, almost like a cock, and the way his palm rubbed against your clit– it gave you just enough stimulation to push you towards the edge of an orgasm.

“Look at you, slut,” his breath was hot as he whispered in your ear, “so desperate to get fucked.”

A strangled moan escaped your throat, and you couldn’t help but grind against his fingers to chase the pleasure he was giving you. The degrading words and humiliation only made you wetter. Joel couldn’t get any more perfect– so far, he'd played his part to the T.

“In your– fuck!” You moaned as the pad of his fingers brushed up against your g-spot. Just a little more now, and he’d have you coming on his fingers.

“Didn’t hear you, sweetheart, y’need to speak up,” he taunted, continuing the pace of his fingers.

“In your d-dreams, old man,” you tried to spit out, but the pleasure he gave you was taking over, making you stumble over your words.

Quickly, Joel withdrew his fingers, sliding them up the front of your cunt, giving your clit a slap, before he backed off completely. You gasped; face pulled tight in a disappointed frown.

“What the fuck!?”

And then he fucking laughed, fucking laughed at you.

“I already told you, sweetheart, only good girls get rewarded.”

He stepped closer again, his hand cupping your cheek while the other pressed the fingers coated in your arousal to your lips. “Clean up your mess, and we’ll see ‘bout that reward.”

Parting your lips, he stuffed his fingers inside your mouth. They tasted of you, a sweet-salty taste. You closed your lips around them, and sucked, letting your tongue tease around his fingers the way you’d tease his cock. “That’s it, good girl,” he grinned, and it sparked a small flame of pride in your chest.

When he was pleased with you, he slipped his fingers from your mouth. He let them glide over your lips, smearing your lipstick and coating your lips in your own saliva as a set of headlights illuminated the street. Then, he patted your cheek, nodding towards what you assumed was your uber as it rolled to a stop in front of you, “Go on, get in the uber.”

In the uber Joel was quiet, ignoring you as were forced to make small talk with the driver (you’d give him a bad review just for that). When you thought the small talk had been torture enough, Joel slid his hand up your thigh, resting his big palm right at the seam of your leg as he looked out the window. If your panties weren’t already soaked from what he’d done to you in the alleyway of the club, then they definitely were now as the anticipation only grew.

Joel’s house wasn’t sad at all. It was quaint, and suburban, but homey. Nice. No expensive designer furniture, but sturdy and of good quality either way. He had no rare art, but a decent amount of family photos and what looked like a child’s drawings. You stopped in the middle of the stairs to admire them. In one of them Joel looked as old as you were now, with a baby in his arms, in another he had his arm around the shoulders of another man who looked a lot like him, just with darker hair. His brother probably, the one getting married. The little baby was a little girl, and she grew up in front of you; birthday parties, first days of school, soccer uniforms. Your eyes landed on a photo of her in a graduation cap with Joel and the other man at her side, grinning wide with a college diploma in her hands. This man wasn’t who you’d thought. He had a family– a daughter your age. The wall of memories squeezed at your heart, made something inside you always kept hidden break forth–

“You comin’?”

Joel waited at the top of the stairs for you, his face pulled into a confused frown. You skipped up the stairs, happy to have left your heels by his door. When you got to the top, you pushed at his chest, “Just looking at your sad things.” With a roll of his eyes, he led you to his bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, but his voice was distant, the bite from the club was gone.

It felt like the perfect opportunity to play with him.

“No,” you blinked innocently, your eyes wide as you watched him unbutton his green flannel, “you’ll have to make me.”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, “I’m serious, sweetheart, I need to talk to you first.”

Talk?

“You can’t get it up, is that it? You’re too old?” you teased but sat down at the bed either way.

“You really are mean, aren’t ya?” His laugh sounded like a surrender. “A man wantin’ to be a gentleman and establish boundaries before he ruins her, and this is what he gets?”

Shaking his head, he walked closer, and cupped your head in his hands. “I plan on bein’ rough with ya, sweetheart, and I think that’s what you want too, isn’t it? Get fucked so hard you can’t think?” You nodded your head in his arms, the velvet bass of his voice going straight to your core.

“Listen’ closely– if I do anythin’ you don’t like, you say ‘red’ and we stop, and if you can’t speak then you pinch me, you hear?”

You nodded again.

“Words, baby, need y’to say it with that pretty voice.” His thumbs brushed over your cheek.

You nodded again, “Yes, sir… if I want you to stop, I say ‘red’, or pinch you.”

“Good girl,” he praised, “Anythin’ else?”

“Um…” Your front teeth caught on your bottom lip, “I’m on birth control– you can come inside me if you want.”

A noise rumbled in Joel’s chest. “Such a naughty girl,” his thumb brushed over the plump of your lips, “letting a stranger come inside her, huh?”

You nodded again, a wicked smile breaking against his thumb before you opened your mouth, and bit down. Not hard, just enough to pull a reaction from him, and you did.

Like a switch, the warm whiskey eyes faded into a deep black. The grip on your chin slid downwards, where it found your neck. He didn’t squeeze, but his grip wasn’t gentle either, holding you in place like a warning.

“You ought to treat me with more respect, brat…” he spat, his thumb digging into the column of your neck, “Apologize for your rude behavior.”

Against his hand, you shook your head to the best of your abilities, his grip tightening with your movement. You wished he’d choke you properly, make your head all fuzzy and empty– filled with nothing except for him.

“No.”

His face turned to stone above you, and you felt a giddiness flutter in your stomach.

 He didn’t like that.  

In one quick motion his hand was ripped from your throat as he stepped away. He didn’t look at you as he sighed, his hands falling to his belt buckle, sharp metal clinking.

Taking advantage of the moment, you admired the man before you. How big and broad he was. How his t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest, biceps bulging against the woven fabric. You studied his hands as they fiddled with his buckle, thought about how good they’d felt inside you earlier, the pleasurable sting as they’d stretched you out.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, voice cold.

When you didn’t move, he took matters into his own hands.

“Get. On. Your. Fuckin’. Knees.”

His grip around your wrist was tight, as he pushed you down. The hardwood floor dug into your knees as he manhandled you, sure to bruise tomorrow. He stood his ground in front of you, legs slightly parted as you were now eye level with his inviting bulge. He was big, and you felt your eyes widen. Even hidden away in his jeans you could see it, see the length of his hard cock strain against his thigh – it made your mouth water as you squeezed your thighs together.

“Look me in the eyes,” he told you, and your eyes flicked upwards – obedient for once. “Eyes up here at all times– Don’t you fuckin’ dare look away.”

He made it hard to do as he’d ordered, popping the button on his jeans, and pulling the zipper down. You wanted to see his cock, touch it, feel it inside you. He couldn’t possibly expect you to not look when it was right there.

"Disobedient slut.” 

The slap came quicker than the stolen glance, and your hand came up to graze your cheek on pure instinct. It stung under your palm, like a thousand little knives.

“What did I jus’ say?” He spat out the question, his hand gripping your chin to force eye contact.

“Look away?” you tried, your voice rising an octave.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he sighed, leaning closer, “I ain’t wanna hear any more of your fuckin’ attitude.”

His grip tightened on your chin and your mouth dropped open by itself, “Open your mouth– that’s it… wider, just like that.”

Then he spat, right into your mouth.

You flinched at the suddenness of it, but Joel’s grip on your chin held you still– kept your mouth open, as you felt his spit slide further and further into your throat. You had a feeling you shouldn’t swallow until he told you, so you didn’t, your head pliant in his hand as you let him study you. A wide grin spread across his face as he moved your head from one side to the other, his rough fingers denting into your skin as you waited for your next command.

“Swallow, brat.”

He let go of your face, and you closed your mouth, swallowing down his spit with an audible gulp. “Good girl,” he muttered and stood tall, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

The rough sound of denim against skin filled your ears as he freed himself. You were on your best behavior now, gathering your hands in your lap, sitting pretty for him as you locked eyes with him coquettishly.

“That’s better,” he said, “Actin’ like a proper good girl now,” he praised.

It took everything in you not to look, as he stepped closer.

With a fist tight around his cock, he brought the head to your mouth. He tapped it on your lips, smearing the precum beading at the tip and ruined your lipstick.

You wanted to taste him so badly, but he couldn’t know that. Pinching your lips together, you shook your head with wide coquettish eyes. His eyebrows pinched together in a frown, eyes narrowing at you as he pushed his cock against your lips.

“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth, f’me,” he ordered.

Pretty. He called you pretty, and it was enough for you, you gathered, and stretched your mouth open for him.

“That’s it, wider.”

You twitched in surprise as he slapped the length against your tongue. It was heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixing with your saliva as he rubbed the head over your tongue, in and out, in and out – coating his big cock in your saliva, “just like that, baby, get it nice ‘nd wet.”

Closing your lips around the mushroom tip, you ran your tongue around it in circles, teasing the underside and the slit, before you tipped your head back. His cock bobbed in front of you obscenely, a frown formed on his face again and you knew he was about to tell you off.

Gathering a blob of saliva in your mouth, you spat on his cock instead. A low humming laugh rumbled from Joel’s chest, as he collected your spit and rubbed it in over his shaft in slow strokes. The spit dripped down, down over your front where you felt it darken the fabric of your dress. Subtly, you reached your hands behind your back to pull at the zipper.

“Yeah, that’s right, get those pretty tits out f’me.”

He let you maneuver out of your dress while he stroked his cock slowly in front of your face, and finally, you could get a good look at him. He was bigger than you’d thought from his bulge. Veins lining his thick shaft as you watched the way his fist moved up, massaging the tip gently, and down again in a slow, steady rhythm. At the base unruly curls of dark hair shone in the spit gathering, and you let your eyes wander downward to his balls where they hung heavy.

You wanted to taste them, too.

With your dress discarded on the floor beside you, you sat up slightly, spreading your legs and tucking your calves up to your thighs. Almost naked, safe for the thong splitting your cheeks, you arched your back slightly, making sure he got a good view of your ass.

A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest, and a hand came down on your head, “You want my cock, don’t you, slut?” he spat, slapping his cock on your right cheek, spreading your spit on your skin.

“Do you make all your girls wait this long or is it just me?” you tutted, almost rolling your eyes at him.

“There’s that fuckin’ attitude again.”

Slapping his cock harder against your cheek, he leaned forward letting a blob of spit drip from his own lips, coating both his cock and your face as he rubbed it in with his cock.

It was obscene, degrading, and you’d never been wetter.

In desperation to taste him again, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. The hand he’d used to stroke himself, wrapped around your skull, caging his cock between his hand and your face as he started thrusting against your face, his heavy balls rubbing against your chin with every slow push.

It was messy, sloppy, and wet. He held your head steady with his other hand, while he continued rubbing his cock over your cheek, nose, and forehead. His spit mixed with your own as you lapped at the underside of his cock; trying to taste as much of him as he’d give you.

“You dirty little whore,” he smiled, “You like that don’t you?”

Under him you whimpered, clit pulsing with want as he made you his plaything, did what he wanted with you.

“Yeah,” you moaned unabashedly, licking greedily at the underside of his cock.

At that, he laughed, and the grip on your head loosened as he pulled back. You only had time to take a deep breath before he stuffed his cock down your throat. It was abrupt, and harsh – the hefty length of him making room for himself inside your mouth.

You couldn’t fit him all inside, gagging as the head of him hit the back of your throat. He held you there still, one second, two seconds, three seconds. Your hand found his thigh where you tapped at him, and finally he pulled away.

You gasped for air, your breath wet with spit as small tears pricked at your eyes. His hand landed on top of your head again, grounding you to the moment as he searched your eyes, checking in.

No, you tried to convey, you’re not too rough.

Pleased, his cock bumped against your lips again, and you dropped your mouth open for him again.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting his cock back in your mouth, “let’me fuck that throat open.”

Dropping your jaw, you tried to make room for him in your mouth. It wasn’t easy, your lips stretched wide around the girth of him as you tried to calm yourself, to open your throat for him to abuse. His cock was easily the biggest cock you’d ever sucked, and you told yourself you needed to relax.

He pressed himself deeper, and you let out a whimper. “Work with me, slut, hold still.”

Trying your best to obey, you breathed through your nose, staving off your gag reflex the best you could as the head knocked at the back of your throat. His other hand cupped your chin, keeping your head still between his large hands. A tear rolled down your cheek when he rutted into your mouth, testing the waters.

“Good girl,” he praised, fucking gently into your mouth. Saliva gathered in your mouth, drooling down your chin with each thrust. “Such a fuckin’ mess– Look me in the eye as I fuck your throat.”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping you steady as you locked eyes with him. It was difficult, tears clouding him in a vignette, but you did as you were told. He studied you closely, tested your boundaries, completely in control.

You gasped for air when he finally pulled back again. A wet string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. A proud smirk coated his lips, while his hand stroked your head in praise.

The small moment of relief passed quickly, and soon his cock was back in your throat, bruising it in a steady rhythm.

“Take that fuckin’ cock all the way down your throat, whore,” he spat, his thrust a little rougher now that he knew you could take it.

He had you at his mercy now as he ruined you. Ruined your throat, ruined your body, ruined you for other men. Tears mixed with snot, which mixed with spit as it ran down your chin, dripping lewdly onto your tits where it made a mess.

Over you, Joel rambled.

“Good fuckin’ slut.”

“Choke on that big fuckin’ cock.”

“You love it don’t you?”

And you did, you loved it. Joel made you feel useful for once in a life – a fucked up thought, but then again you never said you weren’t fucked up. Joel’s words were filthy and dirty, and as humiliating as they were he made you feel wanted.

You just wanted to be wanted.

Another gasp of air filled your lungs as he slipped from your mouth. His grip on your head was tighter now, his cock throbbing in front of you. As much as you wanted him to fuck you, you wouldn’t complain if he came down your throat. He’d given you so much already.

“Fuck,” he whispered and let go of your head.

You took the opportunity to catch your breath, sniffling as you wiped at the snot that clogged up your nose. His hand came down to squeeze at the base of himself, clearly staving off his orgasm.

“What,” you croaked, your voice hoarse after his assault on your throat, “you’re so old you can’t come now?”

His eyes darkened as they locked with yours, and a giddy bouncing feeling twisted in on itself in your tummy. You wanted to see what he’d do to you– how he’d fuck you, and if you’d have to push his buttons to see it, you gladly push the big red button.

His hand wrapped around your bicep, digging into the skin as he dragged you to your feet and pushed you towards the bed.

“Still a fuckin’ brat I see,” he spat, “We can’t have that can we?”

Putting on your best puppy dog eyes, you bit down on your bottom lip. “Who me?” you said innocently.

“Bend over, slut,” he ordered, his voice coated in a tone that said he was fed up with your bullshit. Strong arms turned you around, manhandling you, and pushed your front down on his bed, “’nd spread your fuckin’ legs.”

With a kick to your ankles, he forced your legs open. Tipping your head up, you locked eyes with your reflection in the window, like a camera lens capturing your ruin at Joel’s hand. He hovered over you, his eyes trailing over your naked body, laid out for him to take.

The first smack came quickly, hard, and brutal on your ass cheek. It made you jump, the muscles in your ass clenching as you tried to reel yourself in. Joel’s rough hand soothed over the burn immediately, and you turned your neck to find his eyes.

“I wanna hear an apology from you, brat,” he said calmly, one finger hooking into the lace of your thong.

You shook your head. Stubborn. “No.”

His head fell between his shoulders, while his finger hooked in your thong tightened its grip, and with a hard tug, he ripped it in two.

“Then I’m gonna have to punish ya.” He said it with a deep sigh, like he had no other choice.

You couldn’t hide the excitement that filled you at those words, your cunt now dripping with need. A need for Joel.

With the scrap of your thong now discarded his hand danced over your ass. You tried not to hold your breath, but he drew it out, and you couldn’t help it. The tension in the air so thick, you couldn’t focus.

Smack!

He spanked your other cheek hard, and the tension was released with a whimper. A tickling feeling of pins and needles spread through your cheek.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

They came in quick procession, your hands gripping the sheets for a lifeline as he put you in your place. Moans fell from your lips without abandon, and you felt yourself drip down your legs.

Smack!

“Look how wet you are,” he noticed, running a finger through your seam, “You like it? Only desperate whores like to get spanked.”

He leaned over you, his soft belly (when had he removed his shirt?) pressed against your back, coarse hair tickling your skin, as you felt his hard cock rub up against your sore ass.

“But that’s what you are, ain’t you? A desperate fucking whore.” His breath in your ear, had goosebumps erupt down your spine, and you sobbed out a whine.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered, and pulled away – taking his warmth with him.

Smack!

Tears pushed their way behind your eyes, not because you didn’t like it, but it stung like a motherfucker. Joel wasn’t all brutal, he rubbed your skin between hits, but fuck if it didn’t also hurt with pleasure.

“Say you’re sorry,” he demanded.

Turning around you shook your head, big wide eyes watching him as he spanked you again.

Smack!

“You’re tearing up, little girl– It stings doesn’t it?” he asked, voice laced with fake pity.

You nodded.

“Well, maybe you should be a good girl then– say you’re sorry.”

Smack!

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, voice cracking.

Finally.

Joel stopped immediately, his hand twisting around your waist to flip you on your back. His eyes danced over your body, almost tenderly but still full of lust. His hand moved up and down your sides, down the thick of your thigh before they gripped your ankles and tugged.

A squeal escaped you as he manhandled you, his large hands cupping your face while he fitted himself between your legs. “Good girl,” he cooed, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shook your head in his hands, popping your lip out in an innocent pout.

“No,” he cooed, removing a hand to fit between your bodies.

You gasped when you felt the head of his cock bump your clit, the first real stimulation you’d had since you’d left the ally by the club. Your hips bucked by themselves, chasing the friction of his touch.

“Who owns this cunt?” he asked you, dark eyes staring into yours as he dragged his cock through your soaked folds.

“You do, sir,” you sighed immediately, your whole body aching for him.

A wide wicked grin spread across his face, “Lookit you bein’ such a good girl– finally know your place, huh?”

With no warning, you felt the blunt head of him press at your opening, and then Joel pushed inside you. Your mouth parted in a gasp at the intrusion; eyes glazed over in bliss as you felt yourself get split in two around the girth of his cock. He was so big, filling you up inch by inch, a heavy pressure poking at the deepest part of yourself.

“There you go, baby– you jus’ take it. Take all that cock inside,” he grunted, eyebrows pinched tight.

All you could do was moan as you felt him bottom out inside you, “Shit,” you gasped, “So fuckin’ big.”

“I know, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he praised, starting to rock his hips into you.

He picked up the pace quickly when he was sure you could take it, splitting you open on his cock as he made you takeit. Under him you could feel yourself float away in the pleasure. His hand came up to wrap around your neck and a big smile spread across your face.

You felt so warm. Joel felt so fucking good.

He reduced you to a puddle, a puddle of pleasure and ecstasy. It was better than any drug you’d ever taken. Better than the first day of summer vacation. Better than anything you’d ever known. The sound of skin against skin faded away into a tranquil rhythm of pleasure. You belonged to him now, lived only for him and the way his cock felt inside you.

“Feel how deep that is?” he asked you, somehow having maneuvered your knees to press into your chest.

You couldn’t do anything other than nod, desperate and whiny. You needed to fucking come. Inside you, his cock bumped into a spot no other man had reached before, and a fluttering feeling coiled itself in your core.

You were so close now.

“Joel,” you gasped, searching for the words as he continued his pace, balls slapping hard against your ass.

“No,” he told you, teeth gritted, “You hold it, slut, you hold it ‘till I give you permission.”

Later, a thought of how he’d had you so close to coming without even a tap at your clit would graze you, but in this moment your thought were only filled with Joel. A hand found his bicep, you needed something to hold on to or you’d burst, and squeezed. Above you Joel’s groans and moans got louder.

“Hold it.”

Tears streamed down your face, as you heaved for breath. You were right there, right on the edge now.

Please, Joel, please, sir, please.

“Come.”

Arching your back off the mattress, you shook as you finally tipped over the edge of bliss. The sounds escaping your throat weren’t your own, they were someone else’s, someone possessed with pleasure.

A “Thank you,” fell from your lips, but you don’t think he heard you. Above you, Joel’s movement became more and more erratic, thrusting himself deeper and deeper before a loud groan vibrated through his chest.

“You take it,” he growled, “take all that fuckin’ cum inside.”

He slammed his hips hard against you, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you, and came with a loud primal groan. His cock twitched within your walls as he emptied himself inside your cunt, the warmth of him filled you up as he painted your walls with cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck, “That cum feels so good inside, don’t it?” he cooed, and you nodded, your hands tangling in his hair. He pulled back and thrusted inside you again, fucking his cum deeper inside.

He stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths. His weight felt good on you, you were safe, as you floated somewhere between reality and a space you’d never been pushed to before.

And you missed him when he pulled away, sliding his half-hard cock from your fucked out cunt, dragging you with him up the bed. You reached for him, laying your hand open against his sheets, but he didn't see it, eyes mesmerized by his spend dripping out of you. His fingers slid through the mess, pushing his cum back inside as his eyes found yours.

Then something in the air shifted, and whatever had come over you, was gone. His fingers left streaks of wetness down the inside of your thigh as he pulled away. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to say.

You were ruined now – he’d ruined you for everyone who wasn’t him.

You sat up, turning your head over your shoulder to watch him, watch how his eyes trailed your body.

“Smoke?” you asked, your voice more unsteady than you’d thought.

Joel shook his head as you slung your feet off the bed to find your purse. He sat up against the pillows resting against his broken bed frame. Your eyes raked over his naked body as you fished a cigarette from your packet; drank in his strong arms, his wide chest and followed the dark hair of his happy trail down his belly to his soft cock between his thighs, still coated in your combined cum. Between your legs you could still feel his thick spend leak out of you.

You brought the cigarette to your lips, and just as you were about to light up Joel’s rough voice spoke, “Out the window,” he ordered with a nod in the direction of the window.

Everything was back to how it was before.

A dramatic huff escaped you, “All right…” you muttered.

You felt too heavy– he’d messed with your head; made you show him the real you. He couldn’t see that. So instead, you put your mask back on, turning to face the window to conceal the mischievous smile threating to spill across your face.

“Daddy.”

Behind you, as you cracked open the window, you heard the bed creak. You played it cool, lighting your cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window.

Joel’s breath teased at the back of your neck and over your bare shoulder, making goosebumps dance down your spine, “Thought I’d fucked the attitude out of ya,” his voice was stern.

“Guess I was wrong.”

part two -> here!

i hope someone liked this? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[count-on-mi]

Mile High Club (Mina)

Mina is a senior flight attendant of an airline. The stewardess uniform tightly wraps her towering breasts and round buttocks, , also her angelic face, always allow her attracting countless envious glances when shuttle through the air.

As a senior flight attendant, Mina knows the first-class passengers on the plane very well. She knows which passengers will stare at her beautiful legs as soon as they board the plane, and which guests like to deliberately touch her butt when collecting their luggage. some people will even send her obscene invitations to " take care of " themselves during the flight.

Mina never refuses invitations from these men because she knows her advantages - she has a mesmerizing face and a pair of beautiful legs that can drive any man crazy. Whenever Mina sees the first-class guests casting fiery glances at her, she knows she has a new target.

Mina walked lightly to the first-class seat in black pointed high heels, attracting the attention of many people along the way.

She sat nimbly next to a middle-aged man about forty years old. This was not the first time this guest had taken this flight. Mina recognized his squinting eyes immediately.

" Hello, sir, I am Mina, the steward of this flight . Do you need anything?" Mina smiled and handed over a glass of red wine. Her little hand slipped across the man's arm intentionally or unintentionally, causing the other person to immediately become short of breath.

"Ah... no, no... I'm just... honored to be on your flight..." the man replied incoherently, and Mina noticed that his eyes kept rolling on her thighs.

"Then, if you have any needs, sir, please call me at any time and I will try my best to satisfy you." Mina put the red wine in front of the man, got up and walked towards the other passengers.

" Really ... is it okay ...?" The man looked at Mina 's back in surprise, watching her tall and graceful figure gradually move away, with an evil smile on his lips.

Of course, Mina understood the meaning behind this smile, she had expected it, but this was her job - to meet the various needs of first-class guests, even those that went beyond ordinary etiquette.

Sure enough, after the meal was over, the middle-aged man pressed the internal call button. Mina smiled knowingly, opened the hatch and walked in. "Sir, how can I help you?" Mina stood in front of the man and asked with a low eyebrow.

The men looked at Mina lustfully : "I want ... to let you stay with me here for a little while ... just for a little while ..."

Mina blinked innocently: "Here? But this is against the rules..."

"Don't be afraid... we'll keep the noise down... and I'm willing to give you some tips..." The man quickly took out a stack of thick bills from his wallet, put it on the table and pushed it to Mina.

Mina's eyes wandered between the banknotes and the man, and she quickly decided: "Since you are so sincere, then I have to try my best..."

She walked up behind the man, quietly unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt with her little hands, and whispered softly in her ear: "Sir...how do you want me to 'take care' of you...?"

The man's breathing suddenly became heavy. He reached out and grabbed Mina's arm and pulled her into his arms...

Mina smiled knowingly. She stood up and closed the seat partition to ensure that no one would disturb their "game".

Returning to the man, Mina leaned down, stretched out her tongue and licked the man's neck, leaving wet traces. "Sir, do you think my 'care' is adequate now?"

The man had been completely aroused by Mina. He roughly pulled open Mina's collar and covered her breasts with his hands and keep kneaded them. "Oh...it's so cool...I really should have chosen first class earlier..."

Mina hummed softly, raised her neck and let the man bite her throat. Her little hand restlessly inserted into the man's crotch, skillfully found the hot hard cock, and began to stroke it up and down.

" Umm ... you are so amazing ... It is already so big ..." Mina looked at the man with charming eyes and increased the speed of her hand.

"Fuck! It's so fucking exciting..." the man roared, grabbing Mina's wrist to stop her movement, then grabbed her collar and ripped it open, revealing a large area of snow-white skin.

" Miss Mina ... I want you to give it to me now ..." the man gasped and growled. Mina nodded with a smile, knelt on the ground and took off the man's pants ...

Mina gently took off the man's pants and underwear. The man's already highly erected penis eagerly popped out and jumped twice in the air.

"Oh...it's so energetic..." Mina wrapped her fingers around the thick and hard penis, stroked it up and down a few times before lowering her head and swallowing the tip into her mouth.

"Ah...Miss Mina...so good..." The man cried out comfortably, and inserted one hand into Mina's hair to press her head down, while the other hand reached into Mina's open top. The pair of white and tender breasts were rubbed vigorously inside.

Mina didn't care about the man's rough movements. She skillfully swallowed the huge thing in her mouth, and occasionally lick the sensitive crown with the tip of her tongue to arouse the man's excitement.

"It feels so good... You are much better than that whore last time..." The man became more and more excited. He simply picked up Mina's head and inserted it completely. His abdomen hit her chin and made a loud slapping sound.

Mina tried her best to relax her throat to allow the man to thrust easily, sucking and swallowing with the men’s rhythm at the same time. Soon the man's breathing became heavy and rapid, the only thing left in the cabin was the man's sensual moans and the gurgling sound of water in Mina's throat...

With Mina's efforts, the man quickly reached climax. He held Mina's head firmly against his crotch, and a thick white liquid spurted out, pouring all of it into Mina's mouth.

Mina did not spit out the man's penis immediately, but swallowed every drop of semen in her mouth, and did not raise her head until the man softened.

" Miss Mina ... you are so wonderful ..." the man gasped, still stroking Mina 's hair with his big hands.

Mina smiled and wiped away the residue from her lips, then crawled back onto the man: " In that case, sir, do you want more ' care ‘? "

Without saying a word, the man pushed Mina down on the seat and eagerly pulled open her uniform skirt, revealing the narrow thong between her slender legs. " Fuck ... you little evil ... I'm going to fuck you up ..." The man growled, taking off his clothes, stepping forward and possessing Mina fiercely...

"Ah... so deep... you are so powerful..." Mina raised her neck and hummed softly. The man's penis was thick, long and powerful, and it reached the deepest point at once.

The man grabbed Mina's waist and pumped her quickly, hitting her every time, causing Mina to moan intermittently. "Scream louder...I like to hear your voice..." the man ordered, while increasing the intensity.

" Oh ... Sir ... be gentle ... I won't be able to bear it ..." Mina twisted her waist to escape from the man's control, but it only made the man more excited.

"Little evil... you just need to be fucked..." The man rushed forward and kissed Mina on the lips, holding her swaying breasts in his big hands and kneading them.

Mina responded to the man's deep kiss, inserted one hand between the two of them, and gently twisted the man's scrotum, while the other hand left scratch marks on the man's back.

"Hmm... It's so fucking exciting... You really should be a prostitute..." The man was so excited by Mina's reaction that his penis expanded more and more, and each penetration brought Mina greater pleasure.

In the midst of this passion, the plane suddenly encountered turbulence, and the fuselage began to vibrate violently. "Be careful...ah..." Mina exclaimed, hugging the man's shoulders tightly with both hands, and the two of them swayed on the chair.

"Fuck...I don't care...let's continue..." The man gritted his teeth, fixed Mina's buttocks with his hands and continued to thrust violently, as if he wanted to penetrate her...

Mina lost control due to the man's collision. She raised her head and threw her hair away. She screamed and twisted her waist desperately, seeming to enjoy this wild pleasure.

The bumps in the fuselage caused the two of them to constantly collide and rub against each other, which only added to the excitement of sex. Mina's legs were wrapped around the man's waist, her fingers dug deep into his back, and her nails made bloody marks.

"Fuck...it feels so good...I'm going to cum..." the man growled, speeding up his thrusts and gushing out in the deepest part of Mina.

Mina also reached climax at the same time. She screamed and stretched her waist, her vagina tightened around the man's penis like a spasm, and a large amount of honey gushed out.

" Ah ... that's great ..." Mina fell into the man's arms exhausted, her forehead covered with beads of sweat.

The man chuckled lightly and kissed the corner of Mina's lips: "Your 'care' is so perfect... I will only choose you when I fly first class in the future..."

Mina chuckled and whispered in the man's ear: " Then we'll see you on the next flight ..."

When the man heard this, he was immediately excited. He hugged Mina tightly and planned to have a second round...

"Wait..." Mina suddenly pushed the man away with an embarrassed expression.

"What's wrong?" The man looked at Mina in confusion.

Mina blushed and shook her head: "For the second round of your special service, we need to charge some extra fees..."

The man's eyes widened: "What do you mean? Aren't you a flight attendant on the plane?"

Mina said: " Yes, but to provide such a long-term special service to one customer, there is still an additional charge ..."

"What?!" The man was furious. He stood up angrily: "So you are playing tricks on me..."

Mina quickly grabbed the man and explained aggrievedly: "Don't be angry... Of course I am willing to serve you, but this is not in compliance with company regulations... If I am found out, I will lose my job..."

"Then how much do you want?" the man asked.

Mina thought for a moment and held out three fingers hesitantly.

"Three thousand?!" The man was shocked.

" No ... it's three hundred thousand ..." Mina said with a blush.

"What?! Do you think I'm being taken advantage of?" the man was furious.

Mina immediately put on a pitiful look: " But sir ... I really can't provide such services for free ... You just said that I am much better than a prostitute ..."

The man sighed helplessly. He took out a thick stack of cash from the suitcase and threw it to Mina: "Okay... take it..."

After getting the money, Mina immediately changed into a different person. She knelt on the ground and leaned down again, using her gloves to touch the man's genitals while taking it into her mouth.

" Ah ... little fairy ... you are really ..." The man felt Mina 's skill and closed his eyes comfortably. Mina licked the man like a charming cat, her tongue swirled around the crown, and then suddenly slid into the deepest recess, scraping the sensitive spots teasingly.

"Oh... you're really good at licking..." The man couldn't help but hold down Mina's head and completely insert his penis into her mouth.

Mina obediently allowed herself to be manipulated by the man. The tip of her tongue hung at the base of the penis, rubbing the sensitive parts as the man thrust. "I'm going to cum..." The man's breathing became heavy. He held Mina's head firmly, thrust dozens of times, and then poured all the hot fluid into Mina's mouth.

Mina carefully swallowed every drop of semen, raised her head and showed a charming smile to the man: "Do you have any other 'requests'?"

The man stared at Mina's flushed lips and smiled evilly: "I want to fuck every hole in your body..." Mina immediately understood what the man meant. She turned over and lay on the seat, raising her butt high: "Then come on...please enjoy my back garden..."

The man stared intently at Mina's buttocks. Her vagina had not yet been closed, and the pink flesh walls could be vaguely seen, as well as the white turbid semen that was constantly flowing out. "What a beauty..." The man reached out and slapped Mina on the buttocks with emotion, causing her to scream.

"Moan..." the man ordered. He held Mina's waist and slowly advanced. The front end of his cock separated the pink anus and gradually sank into it. "Ah...Sir...slower..." Mina raised her head and gasped, feeling a strange pleasure from the thick foreign object invading her anus.

The man ignored Mina's pleas. He grabbed Mina's waist and pushed hard, inserting the entire penis into Mina's anus. "Oh..." Mina whispered in a daze. She felt that part of her body was stretched to the limit, and the man's penis jumped up and down in her body, bringing waves of tingling pleasure.

The man began to thrust rapidly. His penis was tightly wrapped by Mina's ass, and every inch of skin was rubbing, causing an extreme sense of comfort. "It feels so fucking good...you little devil..." the man growled and sped up, hitting Mina's G-spot with every penetration, causing her to scream.

"Ah...don't...too deep...sir..." Mina cried, the pain and pleasure coming from her anus made her almost lose her mind. The man doesn't care about so much, he just wants to indulge in Mina. His big hands pinched Mina's breasts, kneading them into various shapes, and pinched the sensitive nipples with his fingertips.

"Moan louder...I'm going to fuck you out..." The man gasped, his penis moving in and out of Mina's body quickly.

"Oh...Sir...I can't survive...I'm going to be broken..." Mina burst into tears. She felt that her lower body was completely out of control, and streams of juice could not stop pouring out of her vagina.

"Then let me see how wild you can be..." The man bit Mina's shoulder viciously, and his penis hit the deepest part, and then erupted again amidst Mina's high-pitched moans. White turbid semen spurted out and poured into Mina's rectum, mixing with the previous semen, making the entire anus look even muddier.

"It feels so fucking good...you are such a natural born slut..." The man pulled out his penis, covered Mina's buttocks with one hand, turned her over and pressed her on the seat, and once again buried his head in her Chest biting and sucking...

Mina looked at the man in front of her who was crazy about her with joy. She understood that as long as she could make him cum more often, she would get higher rewards.

"Do you still want it... Are you satisfied with Mina's service... Do you still want more?” Mina’s teasing is so effective that the men’s cock starts to rise again. "You little evil..." the man growled. He grabbed Mina's hands and held them above her head. Then he lowered his head and kissed Mina's red lips hard.

Mina responded to the kiss passionately, her tongue protruding into the man's mouth and entangled with his. At the same time, she felt a hot thing squeeze into her body, slowly but surely moving deeper.

" Ah ... Sir ... you are so amazing ..." Mina gasped repeatedly. She felt that the desire in her body was completely ignited, and her whole body seemed to be in cloud 9, bumping up and down with the man's movements.

The man pumped faster and faster, and his penis was tightly wrapped by Mina's tight vagina, bringing unprecedented pleasure. " Fuck ... you're driving me crazy ..." the man cursed in a low voice. He grabbed Mina 's slender waist and pushed hard ..." Mina pretended to be helpless and moaned. In fact, she felt unprecedented Relief.

The man gasped and sped up, and every thrust hit Mina's deepest core, causing a throbbing sensation. " It feels so good ..." Mina swayed obliviously, her breasts rising and falling as if they were two active volcanoes waiting to be conquered.

The man became even more excited when he saw Mina. He grabbed Mina's breasts hard and rubbed and pressed her nipples with his thumbs, causing a burst of electricity to pass through her body. " Ah ... Sir ... harder ... deeper ..." Mina twisted her body to meet the man's movements. She felt that her desire had reached the limit, and she longed for a more violent impact.

The man's scalp was numb from the stimulation of Mina's words and movements. He growled, held Mina's slim waist with both hands, and pushed his penis deep. "Oh...it's too deep..." Mina raised her head and gasped. Her eyes were blurred, as if she had lost consciousness.

The man pumped faster and faster, and his glans kept hitting Mina's cervix, causing waves of spasms." Call me husband ... you slut ..." The man bit Mina 's ear, his hoarse voice filled with indescribable temptation.

" Husband ... " Mina responded unconsciously. Her body was completely dominated, and she could only passively withstand the man's attack.

The man felt Mina 's body tighten suddenly, followed by a violent tremor. His penis was tightly twisted, almost suffocating.

" Ah...I'm going to cum..." the man growled, his penis buried deeply into Mina's body, spurting out stream after stream of hot heat inside. "Husband..." Mina also reached climax. She hugged the man tightly, and their bodies softened after a spasm.

The man gently stroked Mina's sweaty back and whispered, " You are mine for the rest of the flight. " Mina raised her head and smiled sweetly at the man. She responded softly: "Yes, husband..."

The man stared at Mina in front of him. Although the stewardess uniform she was wearing was already messy, the contrast between chaos and order gave people a very impactful sense of beauty.

Mina also noticed the man's gaze. She deliberately shook her body, revealing the snow-white skin under her clothes and a faint red mark. "Sir..." Mina blinked and called softly, as if teasing something.

The man felt that the thing in his body was tending to rise again, and he sighed. This woman was simply a natural succubus, who could always easily arouse his desire.

"What are we going to do now..." Mina tilted her head and looked at the man, looking innocent, but her eyes were so coquettish that her heart beat faster.

The man couldn't help but leaned down, and his lips fell on Mina's forehead, nose, and lips, licking all the way down, and finally took a hard red fruit in his mouth and sucked hard. "Oh..." Mina raised her head and hummed. She put her arms around the man's neck and offered her lips and tongue.

The man growled and deepened the kiss. His big hands slipped under Mina's skirt, covering her smooth thighs, and gradually explored upwards...

"Well...Husband..." Mina's murmurs came intermittently. She felt that she was about to be ignited again, and that primitive desire was taking over her reason little by little...

Mina knew exactly what she had to do - there was only the last moment before the plane landed, and she had to seize this last opportunity to drain the man in front of her. So, Mina kept whispering "husband". She twisted her body and rubbed the man's lower body, trying to arouse his interest.

" Husband ... I want more ..." Mina said coquettishly, her fingers slipped under the man's nightgown, grabbed the half-hard penis and started to play with it.

The man felt that he was about to lose control, but he still couldn't bear to stop. Mina's techniques are proficient and full of skills. She seems to be born with all this, and people can't help but indulge in it.

" You goblin ..." the man gasped and pushed Mina down on the seat again. His tongue swept across Mina 's bare shoulders, leaving a trail of glistening saliva.

" As long as my husband likes it ..." Mina chuckled. She put her arms around the man's neck and pulled him to cover her again.

The man buried his head in Mina 's chest and sucked her nipples hard. At the same time, he raised his buttocks and pressed against Mina 's private parts, rubbing them slightly.

"Oh..." Mina felt a numbing pleasure spread from her lower body. She couldn't help but raise her head and moan in response to the man's sucking. " Baby ... you are so sweet ..." The man's hoarse voice sounded extremely aggressive. He pulled open Mina 's dress without any explanation and bit into a bud.

"Husband..." Mina sighed softly and opened her legs to facilitate the man's further invasion. The man unhooked Mina's bra, and a pair of proud jade rabbits popped out. The man eagerly lowered his head, took one of the nipples into his mouth, and teased it with the tip of his tongue, causing Mina to gasp.

" Ah ... it feels so comfortable ... honey ... push harder ..." Mina twisted her body, her hand kept touching the man's penis and began to stroke it gently. The man felt the heat gradually rising in his lower body, and his breathing became heavier, but he still did not forget to take care of Mina's two-point red cherry in his mouth, sucking and licking it, making a "tsk tsk" sound.

"Husband... I can't bear it anymore... Come in..." Mina begged softly, her legs automatically parted, inviting the man to enter. The man finally let go of Mina 's breasts. He put his hands on Mina 's waist, then slowly moved forward, and slowly inserted his huge penis into Mina 's body.

" Ah!" Mina raised her head and gasped. The depths of her body were immediately filled, and an electric-like pleasure coursed through her limbs.

The man began to pump slowly, going all the way in every stroke, hitting the deepest part of Mina. " Honey ... come on ... harder ..." Mina urged, feeling like she was about to melt into the waves of pleasure.

The man obeyed the order and sped up. His penis quickly moved in and out of Mina's body, making waves of water and sluggish sounds. " Baby, you're so tight ... it's driving me crazy ..." the man gasped, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

When Mina heard the man's words, a proud smile appeared on her lips. She adjusted her breathing, and then rhythmically tightened her body cavity, tightly wrapping the man's hot desire.

"Oh!" The man felt that he was being tightly clamped, and Mina's pussy seemed to be alive, squirming and squeezing, trying to squeeze out all the essence in his body.

"Baby...you're going to drain me..." the man roared, his speed getting faster and faster, hitting Mina's deepest part hard every time, causing waves of convulsions.

Mina 's breathing became more and more rapid. She clutched the sheets tightly, and her whole body was shaking uncontrollably.

"Honey... cum together... I'm cumming..." Mina shouted in a daze, her body suddenly tightened again, and a strong suction force hit the man's clone. "Oh...fuck!" The man could no longer control himself. He growled and poured all of himself into Mina's body.

The two of them froze up while climaxing and could not recover for a long time.

After a while, the man withdrew from Mina's body, bringing out a large amount of viscous bodily fluids. Mina was lying on her back on the seat, the lingering feeling had not dissipated, her eyes were a little confused, and she seemed to be in some kind of passionate state.

The man leaned down, gently stroked Mina 's hair, and said with a low smile: " Baby, you are truly a stunner. " Mina narrowed her eyes and showed a charming smile: "Husband, this is just the beginning." "

For the next period, Mina was like an insatiable demon, constantly squeezing the desire out of the man's body. They tried various positions and methods, reaching the peak again and again.

It wasn't until the plane started to land that Mina stopped this wild game. She quickly arranged her clothes to cover up the mess on her body. Then, Mina took out a large check from the man's wallet, smiled kindly at him, and left his first-class cabin.

When Mina returned to work, she looked as elegant and capable as ever. No one could have imagined that this dignified stewardess had just staged such a ridiculous love affair in a private cabin.

Mina greeted the other passengers with a smile on her face. She stuffed the check left by the man into her pocket and silently planned her spending plan for tonight.

The drained man was still unconscious on the first-class bed. His body was covered with hickeys and fingerprints, and a pool of thick bodily fluids wet the sheets.

It seems that this journey will become a very unforgettable memory for him.

[whirlybirbs]

— NOISE COMPLAINT ; eijiro kirishima ; 切島

summary: red riot feels really bad about absolutely wrecking the shit out of your treasured plants, or eijiro kirishima falls in love at first sight. pairing: f!reader / pro hero!red riot word count: 3.7k tags: mutual pining, fluff/comfort, humor, very gentlemanly make-out, reader is a fan of red riot, mention of ingenium thirst (truth) a/n: kiri might be a twenty-seven year old pro hero in this fic but he is an absolute lovesick virgin who gets all his romantic cues from k-dramas. you cannot force me to think otherwise.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

The television, low and quiet, drones on as a deep-dive video on terrariums plays. Your apartment is clean — dishes done, laundry folded and trash taken out. There's a new candle burning on the coffee table, and a Dynamight-themed, cucumber-melon eye mask plastered to your delightedly thoughtless expression.

It's supposed to be good for dark circles. It kinda burns. You wonder if maybe that's, like, part of the gimmick. Y'know. Burns. Dynamight. 

Whatever.

No thoughts. Only the pleasure of turning everything off — brain included — for a perfect Friday night, complete with a mediocre glass of wine and no pants. 

The oversized Red Riot t-shirt clinging to your frame is your favorite. You've had it since college — it's a simple red tee with REAL MEN RIOT blazoned across the front, complete with your favorite hero popping a cheeky, shark-like grin and a double bicep. It's faded, stretched out, and broken in but it's also clean, and it smells like fabric softener and comfort.

This is the life. 

Even Twitter is decidedly pretty calm tonight. 

You're scrolling through your timeline, snickering at your friends' recent thirst tweets over Ingenium's recent GQ Japan shoot when it starts.

Apparently, your upstairs neighbors are home.

You thought those guys were out of town for the week. 

You've had beautiful, silent bliss for too long. The buck stops tonight, you suppose.

There's a shout overhead, then a scramble. Another voice joins the fray, and you swear you hear someone call someone else an idiot. You frown deeply as your eyes trail upwards. You wait, expecting more noise, but unsettling silence follows.

Your eye twitches.

Annoyance tips into a simmering rage.

The apartment complex is old. It's in decent shape, and the rent isn't half bad, but the walls are thin. Your upstairs neighbors have been like this as long as you can remember: shouting, stomping, fighting... Some nights it's like being subjected to musical chairs, modern contemporary tap dance, and experimental sound drum solos all at once. 

Your first week was the worst. You dragged yourself up the back to knock on their door and politely negotiate some silence — but the man who opened the door was less than pleased to have his little dude-bro circle-jerk interrupted. He told you to fuck off, get bent, and leave him the fuck alone. 

Then, before he slammed the door in your face, he procured the sort of audacity only assholes possessed and laughed at your Red Riot shirt — which is just plain unforgivable, frankly. 

"That guy's a fuckin' pussy." 

Sure, sure, sure, right, right, right.

The interaction told you everything you needed to know about the two (or four?) men who lived upstairs. They were losers. And they were fuckin' annoying. 

And, as it turns out, manufacturing bad batches of Trigger. 

You don't know that yet, but truth be told it isn't exactly shocking.

Maybe it's your fault for picking an apartment complex in this part of Tokyo. This part of Arawaka Ward is rarely found on those top-ten-neighborhoods-for-young-professionals lists, but it's affordable! And for day laborers like you, it worked. And hey, in recent months, the crime rate has gone down at least 5% — which only quelled the anxieties of your mom and dad by about the same percentage. 

The candle on the coffee table flickers, and you're about to turn back to your slow Twitter feed when there's another bang upstairs — this one admittedly loud enough to send a wave through your wine beside you. You slip your eyes slowly to the glass, perched on a coaster, as another bang rattles your apartment. You reach to still the vibrating glass on the side table. 

That's when the shouting really starts.

And it's when you notice the growing brightness of red and blue lights outside the window.

The apartment complex is pretty big. There are about sixty residents and six floors. You lucked out and managed to snagone of the last available Western-facing studios with a balcony — which made for a perfect plant haven. 

It was a recent hobby, but one that quickly became your calm after the chaos of the day-to-day. Working for the city's Heroics Response Department left you picking up the physical pieces (literally) of a lot of lives. Your quirk might be the usual, run-of-the-mill strength-based ability, but it comes in handy in the aftermath of property damage due to — what the Nation's Safety Commission has labeled — "villain-aggressed encounters". 

All in all, it's a good gig. It's physically demanding but rewarding. The pay is good, you've got union benefits, and you even have a per-diem schedule. It keeps you busy, and though it's not your father's construction business, it's a career path your parents are proud of. 

The slice-of-heaven balcony is bustling with plants. Some are happier than others, sure, but it's pretty. You've admittedlyformed an emotional bond with those vines, leaves, and flowers. 

It's perfect.

It's also perfect for snooping whenever things like this go down in your complex, or the sister complex across the parking lot. 

The shouting match upstairs is escalating, and you take the moment to tip-toe towards your balcony door to peek outside. It looks like two or three police cruisers have pulled up outside. Maybe someone called for a noise complaint? Maybe the property manager was tired of dealing with those losers?

Cackling to yourself, and hoping for a vindicating show of revenge (NO ONE CALLS RED RIOT A PUSSY), you yank open your balcony door and slip outside just as the sound of a pot crashing meets your ears.

Then:

"Shit, shit, shit—"

There's someone on the balcony. That someone's boot is currently stuck in an empty terracotta pot you were saving for spring. Your eyes are wide as you watch the shadow leap to his other foot, lose his balance, and unceremoniously knock over your entire, six-foot-tall, and well-treasured plant stand. You slap a hand over your mouth mid-shriek, hands flying to try and save whatever you can. 

You fail.

Eijiro Kirishima freezes.

What the fu—

It takes a second.

Like, a full second. Maybe even two. Your brain can't make sense of the sight before you. Neither can his, really. 

There's a girl on this balcony. A pretty girl. Like, mega pretty. Like soft and warm and cute and you smell kinda like vanilla — and there's... You're wearing his merch. His merch and... nothing else. Nothing else but a Dynamight eye mask and a pair of fluffy socks. 

...Is this what it's like to fall in love at first sight?

Shit.

Red Riot is on your balcony.

The Red Riot.

Red Riot, the hero in question, catches himself staring. His wide eyes openly wander over your figure (woah, okay, hello thighs), and the second he realizes it, he quickly snaps his eyes up to your face with a mortified expression. "Uh... hi!"

"...Hi...?"

Your expression is tied between shame, fear, and sheepishness as you blink once at him, then twice at the mess of your hobby's destruction. There's dirt everywhere, a plant stand blocking the doorway, and carnage. Your precious babies have been murdered. 

By Red Riot.

And... Red Riot is on your balcony. 

You repeat: Red Riot is on your balcony. 

Abort mission, abort mission.

Your lips part, your mouth hangs open, and every single thought in your head seems to stutter. Kirishima winces as you look down dejectedly at your plants (or, what remains) before he speaks.

"I, uh— is it cool if I..." he points upwards, "Use your balcony?" 

You're speechless.

You draw your mouth shut and nod hurriedly.

"Thanks," he grins, giving you a thumbs up — and a smile. A toothy, cute, nervous smile, "Lemme just... I gotta handle something. B-But, I'll be back. I'll help fix this mess — just... five minutes, okay?"

It hits you suddenly that his voice sounds different from all those interviews you've watched. It's a little warmer, a little raspier, a little less heroic. It's cute. 

Your brain is still having a hard time connecting the words coming out of his mouth to the scene before you — like, yes frontal lobe, this is real. This is happening.

Red Riot is real and Red Riot is on your balcony. 

He's shockingly gentle when he finally frees his boot from your terracotta pot, setting it down with purposeful delicacy — he even whispers 'please stay' as he props it upright — and then steps back to eye the balcony above yours like an athlete remembering a gameplan. 

He's trying to figure out the best way up. 

How he even got up here is news to you. 

(It was Uravity, as it turns out. They've been patrolling together more in this Ward.)

Red Riot is huge. Like, huge. 

Broad shoulders, rippling biceps, and long, fluffy crimson hair. It's daunting to realize how tall he is in person. The guy is a beast — everyone knows it — but his chivalrous nature is that thing that usually draws in his fans. It's no secret that Red Riot is sweet. He openly champions the need to be a good role model for men everywhere. Y'know, you can be strong and nice!

A sharp canine glints in your apartment's light as he pokes his tongue out and thinks for a second. 

Then, he settles on his plan. 

"You might wanna head inside," Red Riot says as he rolls his shoulders and bounces on the balls of his feet; he's readying up for a fight — and you blink as the beautiful realization dawns on you, "This could get kinda loud."

Loud?

Oh my god.

Is he here for your upstairs neighbors?

Oh my god, he is. 

Your jaw falls open as you bark out a laugh — it's an incredulous rasp that sends you into a spiral of joy; you're not a vengeful person by any means but...

"They're gonna shit themselves," you grin, your eyes alight with pure delight and a spark of something that reminds Kirishima a lot little bit of Bakugo, "They called you a pussy—"

Kirishima's brows shoot upwards as he pauses. He was about to jump and dig his hands into the underside of the balcony, but his quirk is stalling at your words. There's a roaring fire blazing in your eyes, one that screams retribution. 

It's... comical.

You cackle again at him with a wide grin, hissing conspiratorily. "They made fun of my shirt!"

You point down at the REAL MEN RIOT tee with both hands, your face set in a look of vindicated glee. Then, the second realization of the night hits — that you've got no pants on, and that stupid, goofy Dynamight eye mask is still on your face. You make a soft sound of embarrassment and tug your shirt down lower, trying to cover up. He cannot see your underwear. No. No way, no fucking way. Without a single word, you reach up, snatch the Dynamight eye mask off your face, and whip it off the balcony without a second thought. 

Slowly, Kirishima's face splits into a pointy grin. 

Holy shit, he's so fucking hot. 

"Oh, man," Red Riot rumbles, his face cracking into a sharp, playful smirk, "That's real rude. I might have t' teach these guys some manners."

Your smile returns, washing away the wobbly look of embarrassment sticking to your cheeks. 

Man, it sure is cute.

You are really cute, Kirishima realizes.

"Right! And who calls Red Riot a pussy?" you counter excitedly, before reigning it in and awkwardly lowering your arms as you try to tug your shirt down to hide the tops of your thighs again. Your glee has stifled a little bit, but it only reaffirms Kirishima's duty to wrap this all up. 

"Yea, that's, like, super misogynistic," he muses as his quirk kicks in and his hands flick into a hardened state. It's insaneto witness the way his large hands transform into weapons with a single breath. You can see the jagged extension of his quirk working up his large arms, too, "Lemme just have a lil' word with these boys, alright? Head on inside, I'll be back in a sec'."

Then, with graceful ease, he hops upwards with a little hup before latching to the base of the upstairs neighbor's balcony. 

It's insane how effortless it is for him to haul himself up the balcony, his hands dug into the cement. His upper body strength is insane. He's scaling the terrace, alternating his grip. He disappears into the dark, swinging his body upwards and reaching his destination.

You tamp down your awe in favor of heeding his directions: head inside.

You're closing the balcony door when you hear Red Riot's voice greet the unexpecting gaggle.

"Hey, fellas! I heard you guys are some super fans. Got anything you want me to sign?"

You snicker to yourself as you hear the beginning of a fight. 

Again, as it turns out, the guys upstairs sucked. Like, mega sucked. They'd been responsible for several recent Trigger overdoses; Uravity and Red Riot were working with law enforcement to track the small-time manufacturers — which explains why they'd been so quiet lately. They suspected someone was on their tail. 

As Red Riot scaled their balcony, law enforcement waited to break down their door. They arrested the four men (Seriously? Four? In that studio?) without much incident — however, you did spy a broken nose on one of them as they were hauled into the back of the awaiting cruisers. 

Sweet, sweet revenge. 

By the time your neighbors are carted off, you've shimmed into some sweats and made a half-assed attempt to look sort ofpresentable, all while firing off a few contextually incomprehensible texts into your group chat.

red riot has seen me in my underwear wtf do i do know kiss him?

You're really weighing your options when there's a knock on your balcony entry. It's gentle and cordial. You turn, head snapping, and spy that trademarked (and a dozen times retweeted) smile through the glass. He waves. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. You try to remember to breathe as you shuffle over and tug the balcony door open. The night air is cool.

Be like the night air.

Stay cool.

Eijiro feels so silly. And guilty. And honestly? Really into you. 

You're still wearing that shirt — the one with his face on it. You have opted to put on pants, but Kirishima still reminds himself to keep his eyes on your face. No ogling. That's not very gentlemanly. 

There's a beat of awkward silence as the two of you wait for the other to speak, and Kirishima is the one to break it with a raspy laugh.

"I wanted to apologize about your plants," a large hand moves to rub the back of his neck, "I cleaned up as best I could. I'm really, really sorry."

You wave him off, leaning into the doorframe. "No, it's okay! It's nothing I can't... fix. I think?"

You look beyond him to the catastrophic mess of plant matter. He must have tried tidying up while you rattled off the rapid-fire texts in the group chat. 

Red Riot's face warbles into something tied between mortification and guilt. "Please forgive me."

"Seriously!" you cry, waving your hands as you try to placate his dejected expression, "Please don't feel bad. It's a fair trade, y'know. Those guys upstairs were, like, the worst."

"I can only imagine," Eijiro concedes, frowning a little, "They didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"

You shake your head and laugh a little, "Aside from insulting my favorite hero to my face? Not really."

Kirishima can feel his face get a little hot. He shifts from boot to boot. His smile is a little woozy. "So... you're a fan?"

You don't need to tell him the underwear you have on matches the shirt — red, with an embroidered RR on the front. You keep that to yourself. You just nod happily.

"Really?" his grin cracks into something so excitable it makes your entire stomach flip, "I don't meet a lotta fans who are..."

His words drift off.

He's staring at your eyes. You're so... soft. Warm. Your eyes are swirling with quiet, astonished adoration and it's making Kirishima feel like he's floating. 

"Who are...?" your brow quirks as you lean deeper into the doorframe, trying to coax out the rest of the sentence.

"Gorgeous," he breathes, his posture relaxing a little as he soaks in your expression.

It's like getting sucker punched to the sternum.

All the wind rushed out of your lungs.

The soft moment only lasts a beat, because suddenly Red Riot's face screws up and he waves his hands hurriedly. "Wait, no. Hold on, I mean — all of my fans are gorgeous, because, uh, they're my fans and I love them, right? It's not like they're not gorgeous, I just — I'm... I... My fans are, like, usually dudes? A-And that's totally cool because dudes can be gorgeous, too, y'know? But—"

You're laughing.

Kirishima is realizing he was not paying enough attention in his agency's PR training last month and you're laughing.

"I get it," you giggle, crossing your arms and grinning up at him, "I mean, I definitely don't think I'm gorgeous but—"

"You are," he assures firmly, his expression serious.

Are you dead?

Are you, like, literally ascending to a higher plane right now?

There's no fucking way this is happening. 

Your lips part in quiet shock as you bite back a smile that threatens to cramp up your cheeks. Kirishima eats it up, his posture perking up at the way you seem to melt at his compliment. His smile is boyish — almost dizzy. 

You duck a bashful look towards the tiled floor of the balcony, not really giving a singular shit that your beloved monstera has been stomped on.

Kirishima clears his throat, then — in a move he totally hasn't swooned over in those K-dramas he's secretly obsessed with, that'd be ridiculous — he props his arm up against your door and leans over you. Your faces are close in the warm light of the balcony. 

Your eyes stutter up his abdomen, chest, jaw, lips, and eyes. Kirishima notices. It's really, really cute.

"Are you, uh... Are you seeing anyone?" 

Of course, Red Riot would ask that. Red Riot, the king of chivalry. How is something like that so endearing? For the tenth time tonight, he makes your stomach flip.

You shake your head no, a little too stunned to speak.

"Cool," Eijiro musters over a shake of nerves, "Cool. Okay. Uh, then would it... would it be okay if I bought you some new plants?"

You nod, swallowed entirely by his shadow. He's so fucking huge. 

"And if I took you to dinner?" 

Another nod.

"...And — shit. You're, like, so cute," the smooth persona he's put on melts a little as his eyes roam your face; you feel so... shy, "I was gonna ask you something else but..."

"My number?" you offer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you maintain eye contact. 

Is it hot? You're sweating. Is he sweating? He's hot. 

Eijiro nods, absolutely mesmerized by the way you tug your lip between your teeth. "That. Yea."

He has to fight back the urge to bite his knuckle when you turn away and move towards your kitchen to snag your phone. Kirishima stays put, allowing himself one moment of ogling. When you turn around, he's clearing his throat and crossing a boot over his ankle. 

He's still leaning up against the doorway.

"Here," you slip him the phone.

Eiijiro takes it — then hesitates for a second.

"...You're not gonna leak my number, are you?"

You have to laugh. You rub your cheek and shake your head before crossing your arms and looking up at him. "If you think I'm going to do anything to fumble this, you're wrong." 

Fumble this? Fumble him? He's the one that is at risk of fumbling, are you serious?

Eijiro barks out a surprised laugh as he enters his number, shoots a quick text his way then ignores the buzz in his back pocket. He hands your phone back and tries so fucking hard to ignore the way your fingers brush his. 

He got your number.

Holy shit, he got your number.

"Hey, Red Riot?"

He blinks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

You gesture for him to come closer, and he obeys easily — he bends a bit at the waist, his hair falling along his shoulders as he smiles down at you in the threshold of your apartment.

"Is everything alri—?"

You pop a chaste kiss against his cheek. 

Or, try. 

As you hop up onto your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, Eijiro is turning his head at the sound of Urvaity calling his name simultaneously. Trajectory failed, and now it's lips and lips instead of lips on cheek — and honestly? He owes Ochaco one for this. 

Red Riot melts — actually, truly, genuinely melts. His posture slumps down as you let out a shocked little sound of apology. But, Eijiro doesn't mind, and fuck, neither do you — because one hand braces against the doorframe above your head while his other hand is suddenly on your waist. He steadies himself, and damn. Damn. 

He breaks away when Uravity calls his name again. Kirishima is breathless and blushing, and your knees feel like jello. 

"I... Uh, I gotta go—"

"Yea, totally," you breathe, swallowing down the burn of unfiltered attraction, "Sorry, I was trying to kiss your cheek—"

Another call of his name. Red Riot curses softly before hollering a 'COMING!' over his shoulder, out past the edge of the balcony. 

When he turns back, he's fast to sweep you into another kiss — this one hotter than before. This one draws you into his chest, sending your hands colliding with the hot skin of his chest. There's muscle and scars and heat beneath your fingertips. His hand curls around your lower back, and you nearly moan. 

He peels himself away with an apologetic look as he backs towards the edge of the balcony. "I gotta go — I'll text you once patrol is over. Is that okay? I'm serious about the plants. And dinner." 

All you can do is nod.

Eijiro is kinda proud of himself for stunning you stupid with that kiss.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

[k3n-dyll]

how about when things start to get spicy with sevika and she finds out it's readers first time

This got longer than I thought it would lol, but I wound up making her kinda soft in this one. The world needs more soft Sev content.

☆Men, minors and ageless DNI

Warnings... 18+, wlw, not proofread, established new relationship, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), domtop!Sevika, virgin!reader, fem!reader, AFAB reader, praise, no specific physical descriptions but reader is implied to have plush hips for like a second Word Count: 1.5k | Masterlist. | Divider Creds | Links 4 Palestine

Notes ☆ This one's been in my drafts for months I'm so sorry. I kinda rushed the ending (it's past my bedtime) and I've been hating my writing recently so a reminder that (constructive) feedback is much appreciated

"Baby...you okay?"

Sevika's voice echoes through your mind, drawing you out of your thoughts, her hands now lightly trailing from where they'd once been underneath your shirt to rest on your hips. She looks a bit concerned, her head cocked to the side as she looks up at you from where you're perched on her lap. The rigidity of your spine hadn't gone unnoticed by her, her plump lips retracting from your neck, sharp, silver eyes narrowing at the sudden show of unease in your body.

You had kissed before, briefly. It wasn't like the contact was something new, it was simply elevated. A nice, home-cooked dinner and a few glasses of expensive red wine she'd smuggled from Piltover had wound up with you in her lap, straddling her thighs as your lips crashed together in an almost desperate make-out session, her hands gripping and fondling your body in a way you'd never felt before. You'd convinced yourself that you were fine, confident even. But as her kisses turned into licks and bites along your neck, her hands traveling upward into the thin cloth of your blouse something in you snapped. It's entirely irrational, and yet you can't control it asyour mind suddenly rushes with thoughts of every single way you could fuck up in the moment and do something that would make her want to stop. Something that would make her not want to be with you anymore.

"Baby" she repeats herself, her flesh hand giving a gentle squeeze to the plush of your hip, wanting you to speak to her.

Your eyes cast down in slight embarrassment at being detected so easily in your nervousness, giving her a small smile and dismissively waving your hand in an attempt to downplay your tension, you speak.

"Sorry, babe. I'm okay" You murmur, leaning in to kiss her again, which, for a moment, she allows, but if there's one thing about Sevika it's that she isn't going to let it go. Not when you're still so stiff in her arms.

"What is it?" she demands, once again breaking the kiss and moving her head back a bit in order to look you in the eye. You let out a sigh, not having expected this to make you as anxious as it did.

"I just...I haven't really...done this before" You admit after a bit of quiet.

That admission gives her pause, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before she lets out a soft hum in acknowledgment. Despite her urges, and the sticky pool of arousal that's already formed in her panties, the last thing she wants to do is have you uncomfortable.

"D'you want me to stop?" she questions, her hands already loosening their grip on you. Before she can fully move them away though, you wrap your hands around her forearms, still craving for her touch regardless of your internal conflict. You shake your head quickly in response.

"No, no, I don't want...I don't want you to stop, I'm just nervous is all"

"Nervous?" she asks, now admittedly more worried.

"I just don't wanna fuck up" The words come out quickly as you see Sevika's eyebrows knit together, not wanting her to think your reservations are her fault. To your shock, she just chuckles at your response, shaking her head before pressing a soft peck to your lips. "You aren't going to fuck up, baby." Her voice coming out as more of a calming purr rather than the concerned tone she'd had a moment ago, using her mech hand to pull you further up onto her lap. "Just let me take care of you, yeah?"

You nod, and without warning she stands up, arms hooked under your thighs.

"What're you doing?"

"Well, I don't want your first time to be on that banged-up old couch" she mutters, continuing to pepper kisses along your neck as she walks you to her bedroom.

Sevika's never really been one for tenderness. And the idea of taking things slow with a sexual partner, at least most of the time, wasn't really her thing but you would never know it from the way she handles your body in this moment. Gingerly lying you down on her bed, pressing soft butterfly kisses on your cheeks and mouth. Using her mech arm to hold herself in a hover above your body, her flesh hand rides up your shirt again, slowly caressing and massaging the soft skin underneath before slipping it off of your torso entirely.

"You sure you want more?" Sevika hums against your skin, nuzzling the tip of her nose against your throat, needing to confirm that you're absolutely sure before she lets loose. You nod, but of course, your girl's not having it.

"Speak. Tell me you want more."

The soft, commanding tone of her voice sends a shiver down your spine.

"Please Sev...I want more, I'm sure. I promise I'm sure." your cheeks hot as you stumble awkwardly with your words.

That's all the affirmation she needs, her hands now working around your back to unhook and discard your bra. You feel the calloused palm of her large hand grazing against your skin, groping at the fat of your breast as her lips latch around your nipple on the other, gently sucking and nipping at it with her teeth.

Her normal impatient attitude when it comes to most things has seemingly disappeared as she makes her way down your body. It takes every ounce of self-control to make it so, Sevika denying her urge to rip your clothes off to slowly strip you down instead, then herself, hungry eyes flickering up to you with each article of cloth shed to make sure you're still okay.

It's when you feel her hand beginning to slip underneath your panties that you tense again. The stiffness earns you a softly uttered "Relax baby" from Sevika before you feel the pads of her fingers begin tracing your puffy clit, the contact almost soothing now that there's some relief to the growing ache between your thighs.

Sevika is quick to replace her fingers with her mouth, eager to position herself snugly between your thighs, hoisting your legs over her broad shoulders and pressing her tongue flush against your cunt. The feeling sends a jolt of electricity through you, the expected but new feeling of her soft lips pressing kisses against your swollen pearl, her tongue dragging along your slit rendering your brain useless.

"Oh my god..." Your hands instinctively weave into her short, dark strands as you unconsciously press yourself into her closer.

Sevika can feel her own need growing by the second but she refuses to rush you, her own cunt gushing with every little move you make. The way you whimper when she finally pushes two of her thick fingers into you is driving her absolutely wild, moaning with you against your pussy as she finds herself humping mindlessly at the scrunched blanket between her own legs.

"There you go, pretty girl...so fuckin' tight" "Taste so fuckin' good, baby.."

Every word she speaks is caught between her own stifled grunts and heavy breathing, her impatience becoming clear in the way she begins pumping her fingers ruthlessly in and out of you, audible sloshing and sucking sounds only drowned out only by your increasingly loud, untamable moaning.

Every muscle in your body seems to tense as you near your peak, back arching up off of the bed as you try to warn her you're close

"Sev, Sev....I'm g'na - fuck, I'm so close"

Sevika just groans in response, her fingers curling upward inside of you with each pump, triggering a wave of all consuming pleasure to course through your body. You've touched yourself before, but not a single one of your solo sessions could compare to the blinding euphoric feeling that rips its way through your body. Your fingers curl harder into her hair, accidentally tugging off the elastic that usually keeps Sevika's hair in place as you grind yourself agsint her tongue.

Her hands keep a firm grip on your thighs as you ride out your orgasm, only detatching her lips from your body when you begin attempting to pull back from overstimulation. A dopey grin is spread across her wet lips when she looks up at you - a rare sight to most, the small gap in her front teeth on full display.

"You did so good...so fuckin' good for me" Sevika murmurs, not bothering to wipe her mouth when she leans down and crashes her lips into your own parted ones, your breathing still short and heavy.

With how she's repositioned herself on top of you, her core hovering just above you thigh, you can feel just how wet she's gotten without even having been touched yet, the dark hair of her bush grazing against your skin and leaving a cool, dewy trail on your leg.

"What....what about you?" You ask, to which Sevika snorts, this time, purposefully lowering herself a bit more to let you feel just how drenched she truly is, as if wanting you to know that it's your fault her body is reacting this way.

"I never said I was done with you, did I?"

Reblogs are appreciated <3 || Taglist: @archangeldyke-all, @delinthecut, @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery, @glass-apothecary, @cobraisveryhorny

[julietsbody]

CALIGULA — luke castellan + reader : luke castellan, in all his reign, has a love for sexual pleasure, more importantly with you. 

tags: mdni, inspired by ancient roman stories, luke is a pervert, dark!luke, p in v sex, jealousy, possessiveness, assistant!reader, captain!luke, luke is an awful man in this sawry

a/n: ive been binge watching the roman empire show

LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR. 

41 AD. 

luke castellan can’t deny how harsh of a captain he was on the princess andromeda. 

he wanted to be the best captain on the sea, wanted to get his revenge on camp halfblood and the gods, wanted to live the lavish life he had always dreamed of. he thought of a life where he would drink red wine out of chalices, be fed grapes from the hands of beautiful women, or men, he wanted to be treated like a god— because in his mind, he would be the best god to ever exist. 

you started out as his assistant, writing papers for him on a simple typewriter that he gave to you, a fucking typewriter. you tried to remind him it was no longer the 1950s, he scoffed like you were stupid. “you know people used them in the 1800s, right?” 

your lips press together, looking at him, then the typewriter, then back to him. you offer a small smile, and he doesn’t return it, he never does, and he never will. luke took things very seriously, maybe too seriously, so he never let himself smile, let alone laugh, a bitter scoff was all you’d get from him at most. 

you were pliant, luke noticed, and he liked that. you did everything he asked, every time he asked. he’d call your name, and hear your heels clicking against the wooden floorboards no less than a second later. speaking of heels, luke was strict about dress codes, too. 

to call him a pervert.. well, you wouldn’t be far off. 

he wanted you to wear things like tight pencil skirts, short or long, thin tights, maybe even solely stockings, stiletto heels that he’d purchased for you the second he saw you show up in mary janes, and a simple shirt or blouse. he liked glasses, too, thin, square framed ones, like bayonetta’s. 

you had to wear dark red lipstick, regardless. 

you hated your boss, more than anything, the way he’d walk into a room and easily command it, the way his body language reeked of cockiness, the way that despite all evilness, he still thought he was doing something for the greater good. 

what you hated the most, is how much you fantasized about him. 

that’s why you always ran to him so quick when he called out for you, why you endured the loud clacking of the typewriter keys even when you had to do a paper at night and he opened your door to yell at you to ‘shut the fuck up or get thrown off the damn boat.’ 

he was never a good man, nor a good boss, but he looked good. 

you liked when he was angry, when he yelled at you, when he held your jaw so tight you were sure he’d shatter it and spit degrading words at you like you were vile. it should be such a shame that you enjoy it, but you don’t pity yourself one bit. he was meaner with you, he always cracked awful jokes with the rest of the crew, drank beers with them, lit their cigarettes, but you, you were the person he took all his anger out on. 

well, at first it was anger. 

then he began to ever so slowly show his desires for sexual connections. he was able to hold it in at first, act like he wasn’t missing having sex, like he wasn’t missing the simple touch of a woman or man. masturbating wasn’t keeping him sane for long, not when he didn’t have anything to masturbate to. then he began to focus his attention onto you. 

you were attractive, and luke couldn’t hold back how his short glances turned to stares. his jaw ticks, lips parting, “i want you to wear shorter skirts.” 

“mini skirts?” you blink at him, he had called you to his office, and his eyes were traveling over your body every second he got. 

“yeah,” he pauses, “and lower cut shirts.” 

before your lips can even part, he dismisses you, and bluntly stares at your ass when you walk away. it was so ironic, luke used to be such a virgin, a complete loser, but now he was nothing short of the opposite. he was cocky, he knew he was handsome, he knew people were attracted to him easily, mostly sexually. 

if luke was lucky, at some stops, he might be able to bring back a few women or men home with him, they always gawked at the ship, told him how cool it is that he has a boat, that he’s a captain, and has a crew, that everyone does everything for him. 

they thought it was hot, so they wanted to do things for him to, he’d take them to his quarters, and provide them with red wine before moaning could be heard all throughout the ship. 

but his boat was in the middle of the sea, and has been for a month or so now, and he felt like he was going insane. 

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🍷

luke was struggling to sleep, insomnia was getting the best of him, he thought that if he drank more and more wine, he would eventually wind down. he never did. he only got slopper, and aroused. the worst mix on nights like these was the bubbling frustration that he didn’t have anything to fuck, and the fact that he wanted to fuck something so bad. 

his dick strains in his boxers, and his teeth grit together, mentally cursing himself for continuously offering himself one more drink, after the third glass, knowing he’d have a fourth, and a fifth. he’d drank the whole bottle, and he wasn’t even close to tired. 

his body feels warm, so warm. you come to his mind almost immediately, making his his hands draw closer to the hem of his boxers. the way your ass looks in those skirts, the stockings that meet at the middle of your thigh, the sheer shirts that barely showed the color of your bra, the slight cleavage you show when leaning over to place paperwork on his desk. 

he recalls the one time he had came into your room in the dead of night in search of a document, but he was immediately met with the floral of your perfume, and the way your blanket barely covered your naked form. he shouldn’t look, really, he should shy away and close the door, but he swallows thick seeing your breast, the slight parting of your legs, the way your cunt barely peeks out the messily moved blanket. 

he wouldn’t have actually done it, of course, because he’s a respectable man who puts consent above all else— but he wonders what it would look like if he pushed your legs apart, moved the blanket, and spread your pussy open for him. to be sleeping naked, how scandalous. he’d never know that you purposefully put the document in your room when you knew you wanted it, you purposefully slept naked, you purposefully moved the blanket in those ‘messy’ ways. 

he inhales sharply, fingers moving underneath the fabric of his boxers to graze over his cock. it’s so perverted, to think of you like this, to imagine pulling you onto his lap the next time you come into his office, fingers gripping your skin the same way they grip his cock now. you’d probably melt into his touch, so innocent, so pliant, your doe eyes staring at him like he’s the only man who had ever existed, like he’s a god. and that’s what he is, a captain, an emperor, a god. 

he thinks of himself, and is immediately reminded of caligula. 

the roman emperor in 31 AD, he was described by some as a tyrant, but in the beginning, he was one of the best leaders in ancient rome. he was just like luke, addicted to sexual acts, wanting all the finest things in life, and the worst part— luke was just as paranoid as him. 

but that was of no worry now, he was too focused on the pleasure that coursed underneath his flesh, or the simple thought of pushing his dick into your cunt, making your eyes roll back with pleasure you’d only ever dreamed of. luke knew he could make you feel good, and eventually he would. he imagined all the positions he would push you into, on your back, on your stomach with your ass up, having you ride him— gods. 

he wondered if whenever you tried to make excuses for being far too late at typing up a paper in time, he could just simply have you on your knees for him, fucking your mouth so you’d shut up. bruising your lips, ruining your lipstick, making you cry, all of those thoughts sends luke over the edge in no less than a minute or two. 

his skin is sticky with sweat, fingers coated in his own cum, but all he wants is more. 

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🍷

like mentioned before, luke had a madness problem. 

ever since he had been cast out, he had this odd paranoia problem, he thought the gods would strike him down at any second, that they were watching his every move, or that percy jackson would find his way to his ship and kill him himself for all the damage he’s caused. 

the lack of sex wasn’t the only thing driving luke mad, it was the cage of his own mind. the fact that he’s surrounded by the very thing that the man who’s responsible for percy’s existence owns, the sea. it all makes him sick, often times there will be crashing from his quarters in the late of night, but it always stopped as soon as it started. 

this night was different, it just kept going. first something being pushed over, then the breaking of glass, more crashing, more shatters, yelling, some screaming— it was a nightmare. some of the crew woke up, but you were the only one who dared to take a step out onto the deck that night, let alone approach his quarters. 

knock. knock. knock. 

no response, a deafening silence underneath the crashing waves and the crackling of the candle in your hand. 

knock. knock. 

the lack of response is worrying. he almost always responds, either it’s to tell you to fuck off, or to come in. but now, nothing. he couldn’t have hurt himself, could he? you test the waters, fingers curling around the doorknob and turning it with the expectation for it to be locked as it always is. 

it was unlocked. you push the door open, glancing in to see the mess that he had made of his own room, and him just simply sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. “luke?” 

“captain,” he immediately mumbles out, a correction. 

“captain,” you repeat, taking a step further inside, he has offered nothing against you being inside of his quarters. you are typically never allowed in here. you move to close the door behind you, placing the candle into the nearest holder that wasn’t completely destroyed. 

you turn back to him, his head was raised to look at you, arms now lazily splayed onto his spread legs in his sitting position. he was a chronic manspreader, something you noticed, but seeing him faintly hunched over pathetically like this, tired eyes staring at you, sweat beading at his temple— he was so hot. 

“are you okay?” you offer, voice as sweet as ever. 

“am i okay?” he scoffs, a chuckle following after, he’s never chuckled in front of you before, “am i okay, am i okay—“ he hums, “what do you think, hm? you think i’m okay?” 

his voice is confronting and harsh, like he wants to see you cower down, like he wants to break you like all the other things in his room. your brows furrow together for a second, “no..?” 

“no, no, atta girl— you’re catchin’ on,” he smiles at you for the first time, “why don’t you help me feel better, yeah?” 

you stare at him for a second, wondering if he meant what you thought he meant, “yeah.” 

“yeah.” his voice is hushed, almost mocking, “c’mere.” 

you immediately walk over to him in the ambient lighting, marking out your silhouette, stepping over all the things he’s knocked over. a grin tugs at his lips, cruel and cocky, he loves how easy you do anything he asks. his hand is gentle on your waist, pulling you closer, “so good for me.” 

you nod at him, letting his hand guide you down to your knees, pupils dilated up at him so perfectly. his tongue swipes along the backside of his teeth, moving his hand to hold your jaw, tilting your head to properly look up at him. maybe it was wrong to fuck his assistant, someone working for him, but it just felt so right, all of this felt like it was in the prophecy. 

his thumb swipes along your bottom lip, smearing the red lipstick there, of course you put that on before coming to his room. “so pretty,” he mumbles under his breath, dipping his finger between your lips and into your mouth. your lips curve up ever so slightly, leaning into his touch, lips closing around his flesh. 

he takes it away from your mouth just as quick as it was slotted between your lips, moving to undo his belt, the veins in his hands shifted with each movement of his hands, first it was his belt, then his pants, then his boxers. 

you always thought luke would have a big dick, he just has that certain cockiness that makes you think he couldn’t have a small dick and be acting the way he is, but this felt like it would hardly fit in your mouth.  

you glance up at him, his amused stare which immediately turns to faux concern when you say, “i don’t think it’ll fit—“ 

“it will,” he immediately cuts in, prying your mouth open with his thumb whilst his free hand eases your head closer, “i’ll make it fit.” 

your tongue runs along the vein at the bottom of his dick, already feeling the heaviness of it against the muscle in your mouth. you had sucked a few dicks before, sure, but this one was the biggest, and the cleanest. his hand holds your jaw when you start taking him into your mouth properly, tongue flat against the bottom of his cock, eyes peering up at him through heavy lids. 

his lashes flutter pathetically, mouth falling open with your every movement, the way the saliva from your mouth coats him perfectly— he needed this. it felt like a dream coming right after a nightmare, he was exhausted, sweating from his breakdown, and you were sent to him right when he needed it, an angel on his shoulder. 

but you’re going too slow, and luke’s growing restless from sitting so still. he can feel the ache of your jaw, but he wishes to make it worse somehow, as cruel as it sounds. his hand moves to the back of your head, hips ever so slowly bucking into your mouth, it was barely noticeable at first, until the sound of you sputtering and gagging around him fueled him more. 

his thrusts quickly turned harsh, bruising, merciless. 

he only paused when you slapped at his thigh pathetically, moving off to pant heavily, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. you looked so messy, so pathetic, lipstick smeared, eyes puffy from falling tears. “always wanted this, huh? i notice how you look at me, always running to my office any chance you get, such a slut.” 

you nod at him, and that only makes him want to say more, “do you believe in god?” 

“yes, yes,” the response is immediate. 

“am i your god?” 

you pause at him, processing, what would the best answer be? 

yes, of course, that would be the best answer. in luke’s own mind, all this misery, all this destruction, all this betrayal, it was only the start of his story to reach the top. when caligula was next in line for the throne and his father was on his deathbed, he killed his own father with hardly any hesitation, then became one of the most memorable roman emperors alongside julius caesar. 

luke had been planning the murder of hermes for a long, long time, ever since the first book about caligula he read. killing percy jackson was a failure, all several times, so he had no other choice than to just shoot for the stars. 

luke’s eyes refocus onto the situation at hand rather than being stuck in his own mind, he had you pushed on your stomach with your ass up, the position he always wished to put you in, the position he’s put multiple other women and men in. 

his hands smooth over your ass, memorizing the canvas that he wants to splatter paint over. there’s something so intimate about this whole ordeal, the dim lighting of sole candles in all the destruction around his room, the crashing of waves on the sides of the boat as it moves through the sea, the red wine that luke drinks from the bottle he had just picked up. 

he hums at the taste, rich, perfect. “want some?” 

you shake your head, and he tuts in faux disappointment, “no fun, aren’t you? just want me to fuck you? needy, needy.” 

albeit his degrations, his tip presses to your entrance, lips pressing together when he pushes in— holy fuck, you were tight. luke’s breathing is ragged, he feels as though your pussy is desperately trying to squeeze an orgasm out of him in seconds. it only worsens when you accidentally glench, making his teeth grit together, he coughs out a bitter chuckle, “you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” 

“no, nono—“ it was too late for the begging for forgiveness, his thrusts were already brutal, slamming into you without a single regard for how much pain it would leave you in, in the morning. caligula was a possessive lover, a harsh fucker, a man ruled by jealousy and madness— luke castellan was born from the same map of caligula. 

his hands grip your hips harshly, punching out sweet moans from your bitten lips with every thrust, “fuck, fuck! luke!” 

luke’s tongue prods at the inside of his cheek for a mere second before his hand suddenly moves to the back of your head, harshly tugging your hair back, “captain.” 

another correction. 

as soon as your back hits his chest, his hand moves from your hair to your neck, gripping the delicate skin there tight. he ignores your attempts to get his attention by placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses to his jaw, leaving his skin stained with your lipstick. his eyes were too focused on the mirror placed in front of him, of course he had one there, it was cracked, but he was still able to make out the way your skin trembled underneath him, the way his thrusts sent shivers up your spine, the way he easily made you cock drunk. 

it didn’t take long for him to have you cumming on him as well, in which he followed soon after with a gritted out fuck. 

luke’s eyes may be glazed over when he looks back in the mirror, but he doesn’t see himself in his position, he sees caligula. 

[littlefreya]

Neptune's Snare

Summary: She came to take revenge on the loathsome man who murdered her fiance, only to become his captive.

Read Chapter One

Pairing: AU!Pirate August Walker x Virgin OFC (for now 😏)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Sexual themes, dark themes mentioned, historical inaccuracies, kidnapping, captivity, graphic descriptions of sex, intimidation, slow burn, sexual tension, foul language.

A/N: I was unsure whether I should do part 2, but @deandoesthingstome (💖) motivated me to do it, so I truely hope you will like it. Many thanks to @agniavateira, for beta'ing. I am no longer using my old tag list, but I will tag those who specifically asked to be tagged for this story via my new Writing Update Blog @littlefreyaslibrary.

Thanks for reading, and please reblog with a comment 🖤

Chapter Two

Hours had passed since the Captain left—hours of futile attempts to escape the cruelty of the heavy iron binds. By now, the ship was deep into the ocean, miles away from any harbour or piece of land. The notion that she’d been abducted by the most ruthless murderer known to authorities had only just begun to sink. 

As hot tears stung at her cheeks, Lizette couldn’t help but chuckle at the stupidity that led her to this fate.

‘Did you really think that a foolish girl could succeed where great men had failed?’ 

If Lizette had dared be honest, she would admit she never thought that plan through, not that it mattered much anymore. Soon enough, she would be yet another shiny trinket in Blackbeard’s gaudy collection.

Exhausted from a fierce yet futile battle, she leaned her head back against the plush, gold-paneled wall. Her weary gaze drifted through the open window, where the dark skies and black seas merged into a desolate void. No light shone through tonight; the darkness has devoured the stars and the moon. Lizette felt as if she was drowning in it too, sinking into a thick, tar-like liquid. With each breath, the collar around her throat grew heavier, the iron pressing into her skin and dragging her deeper and deeper until everything faded to black.

When she blinked again, it was still night but the cabin was lit in deep shades of honey and amber. Her heart skipped—once for the iron still hanging from her neck and twice as her bleary eyes caught sight of a shadow by the edge of the big table.  

It appeared that her host had returned. 

Boots flung across the food-abundant table, the Captain sat back in his royal velvet chair. One hand cradled a silver chalice whilst the other toyed with the edge of his thick whiskers. Silver trays of food, wine, and books were splayed before him, surrounded by dozens of fat, wax-dripping candles. The flickering flame guttered upon his eyes, painting them bright red while he observed the girl intently. 

The curiosity was mutual, at least to some extent. As loathsome as the pirate was, Lizette could not help but scrutinise. Never in her life did she see a man so crude and yet so regal at the same time, He looked like a washed-out king, holding himself to a higher status amongst the scum aboard his ship. Surrounding himself with fine art, books and scientific obscurities, one would assume that this low-life man was educated, or at least aspired to be. His appearance, too, was of some sort of false elegance,  with his moustache carefully groomed and his hair neatly combed save for an errant curl that fell upon his tanned forehead. However, the white cotton shirt that hung partially unbuttoned and loose from his shoulders exposed him for what he truly was as it revealed a myriad of tattoos, scars, and coarse hair. 

‘Nothing but a filthy scoundrel.’

“At last, sleeping beauty is awake.” 

Lizette kept her tongue knotted. The blazes on her stare answered on her behalf. 

August scoffed at the silent response. ‘Precious little thing,’ Had only she known how much he enjoyed obstinate women. The only thing that was better than bending a spitfire to his will was getting a nun to kneel before his cock.

A slight twitch tugged at his cheek; his smirk widening at the fond memory.  

‘Ah, Mary… you sure pray hard.’

Letting go of his whiskers and the chalice in his grasp, the Captain reached for a loaf of bread and split it in half. Steam rose and coiled to the air.  The scrumptious scent of the freshly baked goods quickly filled the room and wafted over Lizette in a tempting invitation. Absentminded, she suckled her bottom lip, almost able to taste the sweetness on her tongue. 

The pirate held out one piece of the loaf, an unmistakably provoking grin lighting his face. “Would you dine with me, pet?”

Weakness unfurled through her, reminding Lizette that it must have been hours, if not an entire day, since she last ate. Her empty belly flipped and gurgled so loudly that the pirate could hear it even from where he sat. Joy immediately cascaded about his glance; the impish grin between his cheeks further stretched. 

To his delightful surprise, the girl was a lot more stubborn than she appeared. Instead of begging, she offered a spiteful glare and turned her face away. 

“I’d rather starve!” 

“Suit yourself.” The Captain shrugged and bit on one of the pieces. Hums and moans sputtered from his mouth, all exaggerated to taunt his brazen prisoner. As he finished chewing, he sucked on each of his inked fingers. 

“Got a name, pet?”

“What matter is that to you?” The girl spat.

August shrugged again and returned to the chalice, dragging it on the table's surface in circular motions. A deep-red whirlpool briefly formed in his drink. He stared at it indifferently as he retorted, “Matters not, pet. But since you’ll be spending some time here in my quarters, I will require a moniker to approach you by. Question is, would you rather I choose a name for you myself? It won’t be a nice one. I can promise you that.” 

Keeping her eyes averted, the girl folded her knees and hugged them, a deep sigh sinking from her. She couldn’t even bring herself to imagine the horrendous name he would choose.

“My name is Lizette.” 

A touch of dark delight kissed his face—as if he had heard the enchanting hymn of a siren. Thoughtful, he stopped stirring his drink to the sound of her name, licked his lips, lifted the chalice and pressed it to his lips. “Ah, yes, you are definitely a Lizzy.” 

“It’s Lizette!” she vehemently corrected.  

“Oh!” The pirate abruptly twirled his free hand in the air, his brows lifting in a sardonically submissive gesture. “Forgiveness! Mercy, milady!” That had earned him the attention he was hoping to receive, as finally, Lizette snapped to glare at him. 

The pure ire on her face did nothing but feed his amusement. 

With a slanted grin and his thumb brushing his whiskers, he eyed her back. It’s been a while since a girl piqued his fascination, and this one was indeed something else. Fear seeped from her like dewy nectar from a ripe fruit. The sheen of sweat clinging to her skin and the throbbing at the crook of her neck gave away her true emotions. Yet, she exuded the unyielding fury of a harpy, the shackles around her throat barely deterring her brazen spirit.. 

‘Bold little thing. As ferocious as the ship’s cat…’ August thought and then frowned, ‘Where is that ungodly creature, anyway? Haven’t seen it in a while.’ 

“Lady Lizette…” the correct moniker rolled smoothly on his tongue in an inherently sinister sweetness. “Are you always such a rude guest to your hosts?”

“Guest?!” Lizette seized the chain that held her collar to the wall and lifted it in front of him—a deep frown decorating her weary face.  

“I am not a guest! I am a prisoner!”

“Ah! Ah!” The pirate lifted his inked index finger in an unbearably pretentious manner. "It was you who came aboard my ship willingly, and let us not forget—uninvited.” 

Lizette felt a chill in her chest, the same chill she always sensed when getting an answer wrong in her Latin lessons. He was right, and there was more to it. Pirate or not, doesn't every man deserve respect in his own home? 

That notion made her cheeks hot. 

“And if I may…“ the pirate drawled huskily and shifted into his seat. Lizette’s eyes followed his movement with the wariness of a skittish cat. Initially bemused, she realised his hand had snaked below the table and was now fumbling with his waistband. 

A deep, pulsating pang bloomed in her core as the primordial anxiety every maiden is doomed to suffer from awoke within her. Alarmed, she shook her head and blurted hoarsely, “Wait!” 

The pirate paid her no mind; either he didn’t hear or didn’t care. Then, his hand sprang back sharply with a pistol in his grip—the same one he had confiscated from her merely a few hours before. 

“Did you not attempt to murder me in my own home?” 

With those words, he slammed the pistol on the table, the dull thud booming through the cabin wall and causing Lizette to jump with a start.

Sinking back to his red regal chair, August crossed his fingers together and pressed his lips together with the contempt of an authority figure. The many golden trinkets around his fingers chimed as they collided. 

“Answer me, Pet.” 

Lizette regarded the pistol carefully. The golden floral embellishments upon the handle sparked with the candle's light.  For a fleeting moment, she wondered how fast she needed to be to grab the pistol and shoot him dead in his rotten heart. Instead, she simply nodded, much as she could with the heavy collar around her neck. The spots where the sharp edges grazed her flesh burnt as sweat dripped over the bruised skin.

“Dumb as your plan was, I do appreciate the gesture, las. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to murder me, but it’s definitely the first time it was a beautiful young lady. Was all of this because of a boy?” He challenged, crooking one eyebrow. 

This time, Lizette did not hesitate to answer. 

“You robbed me of my future!” She corrected, and though she tried to maintain a fierce demeanour, the quiver in her voice gave away the rageful grief. 

Sympathy, sadly, was not in August’s books, especially not whilst being distracted by the way her breasts pressed against the confines of the corset with every fervorous breath. A small, almost inaudible groan left his lips. He wondered if she, indeed, was a virgin. Did he deny her of her wedding night? Were these lovely tits ever in the hands of a man before? 

Surely, he would find out. One way or another. 

With a glare still fixed on her cleavage, he grazed his dimpled chin and simply shrugged. 

“Pirate.” 

Lizette hissed in response. Defiant, she snapped her arms across her chest to hide her cleavage. 

‘Pig.’

“So I robbed you of your future,” August continued, mimicking quotation marks with his long, inked fingers. “And thus, you thought you should rob me of mine?” 

“And what future would that be? Murdering and whoring?” she muttered hatefully.  

The pirate swatted a hand over his chest, giving her a fake, exaggerated pout. “Now that pains me, love.” 

Lizette could sense the blood seeth beneath her skin. She was used to men belittling her, but never did she experience such sheer mockery and humiliation. Trembling, she yelled back, “Good! I wish you nothing but pain!”

“And so she continues to insult me in my own home.” August clicked his tongue and shook his head with sardonic disappointment. “You highborn ladies sure lack respect. ‘Funny thing is, no matter how uppity women like you act, they all want the same thing…” his voice slurred and deepened, coaxing a baffled look from the maiden who abruptly forgot her wrath and ate the bait. 

“And what would that be?” 

The pirate stood and calmly paced to the fore of the table, where he leaned against the edge to peer down at his prisoner. Lizette remained guarded. he was fairly far away yet close enough for his shadow to fall upon her face and for his manhood to be situated at the level of her mouth. She struggled to avoid staring at it directly, which only made that wretched smug smile light his face again.

“What you ladies truly want is to be violated by none other but us ‘lowlife scoundrels’,” August nibbled his bottom lip, a dry chuckle escaping him as more fond memories came to mind. “Truly, the lots of you are bored by the castrated virility of the poised gentlemen. All you fantasise about is to be fucked dirty like a whore by a brute who has no sense of propriety.” 

The pirate held his fist before him and mimicked a slow pumping motion. Although Lizette did not quite understand it, his words alone were enough to leave her gravely unsettled. 

“You are an animal,” she snarled, not realising that her nails were biting into her forearms as she clutched herself so protectively. 

But that merely fueled him.    

“Tell me, Pet, did your boy satisfy those dark desires before he left a delicious bonny lass like yourself all alone? Did he split open and plundered your sweet little cunt, ass, and mouth, or did he leave you wet and miserable?”

Heat crawled at Lizette’s cheeks, yet she wasn’t sure whether it was from outrage or shame. Never in her life had she even considered the possibilities he had suggested, and now those horrifying images poisoned her mind.  

Amused by her obvious mortification, the pirate tilted his head impishly. “No? Not even a finger or a tongue?”

“Stop it!” She implored, her voice cracking.

Ignoring her plea, he clicked his tongue. “Aw, sweet, tender flower. That’s the problem, isn’t it? He left you all alone and uncharted—that lonesome seal, begging to be invaded. Well, milady, you didn’t have to threaten me with a pistol in that case. All you had to do was ask.” 

The pirate reached for his bulge and squeezed it, much to Lizette’s dismay.

”Trust me, one night with me, and you’d forget you ever loved him.”

That was enough to send Lizette over the edge. Not thinking twice, she jerked to her feet, the chains around her rattling along a furious onslaught that sputtered from her mouth. 

“Love?! What do you know about love? You are a monster! All you do is kill and rape! You are incapable of love, and I’d be damned if anyone could ever love you!” 

All the candles in the cabin flickered with a sudden gust of wind as the pirate suddenly lunged forward. He moved so fast, too fast. Lizette hadn’t even had the chance to sway from his touch, and already he was upon her. Crude fingers dug deep into the hollows of her cheek, forcing her to face his terrorising stare. 

“You think this is a game? You think you know anything about me, little girl? About what I’ve done!?” 

It was not a question to be answered, and even so, Lizette couldn’t bring herself to speak; she was suffocating, drowning on the surface. All around her, the air stood dense with the scent of iron, wine, and musky sweat, whilst the weight of his body crushed as it clung to her. 

Closer, deeper. Layers upon layers of silk and wool separated their skin from one another, and still, she sensed the curve and firmness of his robust figure. The woven map of muscles that adorned his torso and the flex each muscle made as he tensed were evident 

But none of this came close to what she saw as he forced her to look into his eyesa wrathful maelstrom pregnant with sinister urges beyond her darkest fears. It felt as if it was trying to draw her into a deep sense of anger, and grief submerged her.

Dread began to spill into her veins. He was going to kill her.

Lizette sucked in a deep shuddering breath. She was not going to join her Edward. Not tonight.

“Let go of me!” She squealed and began to punch his shoulders repeatedly. It felt like hitting iron, every blow more painful than the other, yet she refused to stop. 

Indeed, she was just like that sea monster of a cat.

Stoic as an icy sea breeze, the pirate tilted his head at the girl. Despite her desperate efforts, her battle did nothing but vex him. Quirking one eyebrow, he released his grip from her jaw and swiftly reached for her hands. Lizette did her best to evade, squirming erratically, but to no avail. With a swift single hand, he seized her wrists and pinned them above her head with a booming thud.

The girl gasped out with surrender, strands of her hair blowing back and forth upon her face as she heaved and panted exhaustingly. With his hand around her wrists and his body slightly bent to meet her height, he stood  closer to her than any other man had before. So close that she could taste the wine and sea salt on his breath and study every freckle and every scar that marked his skin. He was nothing like her Edward, she thought; he was coarse and terrifying, and despite it all, she found him tragically beautiful. 

She hated him for that. 

“Listen to me now and listen carefully,” he finally spoke, tightening his grip around her wrists.

Liaette lifted her chin disdainfully; it took every ounce of self-restraint not to spit at his murderous, smug face. 

“You’ve mistook my hospitality and playfulness for kindness, but let’s get this straight; I am not a good man. Upset me, and I will pluck that little flower between your thighs without blinking and then throw you to my crew once I have my fill.” 

His words brought a stark shiver down her spine, yet it wasn’t just fear this time but something far more primordial. Between her trembling thighs, she sensed dewy wetness. A desperate gnawing need she had never known before. Trying to ease and brush it off, she squirmed and ground her thighs. 

August’s brow rose with realisation, an immediate knowing grin spilling upon his malicious face. He leaned closer, his lips and whiskers brushing against her ear as he spoke. 

“Seems like there won’t be much resistance from you, isn’t that so, pet? Soon, you’ll beg me to fuck y…”

His words were cut as warm saliva splattered on his cheek. 

He shut his eyes momentarily, releasing a deep, exasperated grunt and then moved an inch away to fish a silk handkerchief from his pocket. Lizette watched proudly as he wiped his face. 

The pirate, however, was not amused. Throwing away the handkerchief, he offered her a deadly frown. And then he leaned in, his mouth drawing voraciously closer to hers as if meaning to devour her.

“I warned you…”

“Captain.”

A low, sonorous call followed from the door, drawing both August and Lizette to turn their heads toward the uninvited guest. 

Lizette blinked twice. The man in question was almost the spitting image of August, though his hair was wild with earthy curls and his beard fully grown, pointy, and tended with wax. Indifferent to the scene before him, he drew a pipe from his pockets and lit it with the flame of a candle that stood on a shelf near the door.  

August regarded him with slight respect, yet not without annoyance:." What is it? I am busy.”

“I can see that,” the other pirate puffed out, grey lines of smoke following through his nostrils, “you are needed at the brig.”

“About?”

“Flint might finally speak.”

Eyes ablaze with sudden intrigue, August straightened to his fall height and drew a step back from the girl yet kept his grip around her wrists. 

“I assume your methods worked, brother?” He crooked one eyebrow at the other pirate curiously. 

‘Brother, of course,’ Lizette nearly chuckled. The men must have been twins, although she could tell the other sibling had far more grey in his untamed mane. 

“My methods always work.” He answered with dry arrogance. “Finish her off later. This is more important.”

August lingered, his fingers brushing over his moustache as he contemplated what to do with his sweet little prisoner. The possibilities were endless, yet the more interesting ones would take some time, and with the trouble she gave him, he definitely wanted to give her what she deserved. 

A deep, exasperated sigh left his lips. “A moment, Gus,” he requested, finally unhanding the girl. 

The man, now known as Gus, bowed his head and threw Lizette a quick glance before disappearing into the darkness behind the door.

“It seems like I have some business to attend to, love. Shall we continue our little fun later?” August teased, slight annoyance still lingering at the tone of his voice.

Lizette did not answer. Rubbing her aching wrists, she watched him cautiously while he searched within his pockets.  She wondered what new cruel method of torment he would inflict to her now. 

To her surprise, it was a small silver key.

He lifted it to her face and offered her a razor-sharp  stare." The water is close to freezing; sharks and eels are swimming within them, and every man upon my deck is probably plotting to use you as fuckhole since the moment you stepped onboard. I trust you won’t try anything stupid in my absence.”

“Like what?” Despite her physical and mental exhaustion, she dared to speak back, “Seduce one of your crew members to fornicate with me so he would betray and murder you?” 

Her weariness must have brought out the worst in her because she would have never thought of such an inappropriate, vile thing. Then she realised it was  him who, in less than a few hours, corrupted her soul. 

August paused and contemplated for a moment as if this was an actual possibility he did not consider. However, he brushed it off with a burst of taunting laughter while proceeding to unlock the collar around her neck. “I wouldn’t  recommend it, love. They all come with so many exotic afflictions on their cock s that no doctor has even heard of.” 

As the iron was removed from her little neck, the girl rested her hands around it, massaging the cuts and bruises that formed beneath. It ached even worse as the chill air of the night pecked at the raw flesh. 

The pirate waltzed toward the table, reclaiming the pistol in an obviously provoking manner. He sheathed it back at the front of his waistband and paced toward the door. 

“I won’t be long, love,” he promised, and with that, he left and locked the door behind him.

Lizette listened carefully to the sound of his footsteps, counting them one by one until she could no longer hear him. And then, she began to search around the cabin for anything, anything that can be used as a weapon. 

‘I will not be a pirate’s whore.’  She vowed to herself while absentmindedly grazing a palm over her cheeks where August had touched her. 

[shinestarhwaa]

TRUTH OR DARE || ATEEZ OT8

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Idol Ateez x fem reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Tags/warnings: OT8 smut, Idol!AU, 9th member!Y/N, orgy, dirty talk, m x m (quite a lot since everyone's just doing everyone so if u don't like it I suggest u don't read it), oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, anal sex, boobjob, nipple play, masturbation, slight marking, some hairpulling, facefucking, yeosang spits once, fingersucking, handjob, orgasm denial, double penetration, creampie, breeding kink, cumeating, a lot...of...cum, wooyoung has a lot of power even when he bottoms, yeosang has power too

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @1-800-shedevil @glintneon123 @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @staytiny816 @sugarnspice630

ENJOY!

"Aaand it'ssss.... Yeosang! Truth or dare?"

Yeosang whined n sighed, not wanting to play this stupid game in the first place. "Fine, uhm, truth I guess?"

"When's the last time you got laid?" Mingi shouted. "I'm literally beside you, Mingi, please tone it down," Yeosang said as he gave him a dead stare. "Why do you even wanna know?"

"Because we're nosy," Wooyoung chimed in, other members agreeing. "Well I suppose it was last month, when we were in Japan," Yeosang confessed. "I knew it. I knew you hooked up with someone!" You laughed, "I swore I heard a girl in his room."

"Yes, well, let's move on," Yeosang muttered as his cheeks got red. He spun the bottle and it landed on you. "I pick truth!" You said as you took another sip of your wine.

"Who of us would you rather fuck?" San asked you. "H-hey, wasn't Yeosang supposed to ask?" You said defending yourself. "I think Yeosang would want to know too. Who would you rather fuck?"

"San, I don't think-

"Come on, don't you know that we can hear you at night? Or in the shower? In the hotelrooms? When you're all needy, playing with yourself and moaning our names? And what about when you hooked up with that bodyguard and you called out MY name?"

"I-In my defense h-his name was Sangho. So that's really just a shortened version of-" "Y/N, please cut the crap now, we know about your fantasies and I mean, we have them too," Yeosang stated suddenly. The room was silent for a minute until Wooyoung giggled from the corner of the couch.

"What is it now, Woo?" "Well I was just thinking if all of us are having fantasies we could... give in to them...? We're alone right now, no one has to know, right?"

Wooyoung's request made some of the guys blush, but some were definitely turned on, smirking. "Are you suggesting we have an orgy, right here, right now?" Hongjoong asked in disbelief. "Yeah, kinda. You scared?" Wooyoung said with a smirk, sliding his hand over Hongjoong's thigh. "I mean, no... not scared..."

"Well good," Wooyoung said before crashing his lips into a startled Hongjoong, who soon enough started kissing back. Yeosang was seated from across the room and he had his legs spread a little, palming his already halfhard cock through his sweatpants. San followed soon after, his shirt already off.

Mingi sat on your left and decided this was his chance to make the first move on you. He leaned in and instantly you kissed him on his lips. Mingi's lips were overwhelmingly soft, like a pillow.

Yunho, who sat beside you on the right side was suddenly getting handsy as you felt him cupping your breasts from behind. As you were kissing Mingi, Yunho was playing with your bare nipples as you weren't wearing a bra under your sweater right now.

When Mingi noticed Yunho was working on your breasts he couldn't hold back, joining in on your left one. He broke off the kiss and yanked your sweater off your body, revealing your bare tits. The men grunted at the sight and you could feel yourself getting wet from all the attention.

Wooyoung had now pulled Hongjoong half onto his lap, tongues making a mess during the sloppy kiss. Yeosang looked at you and came closer, taking your sweatpants off and admiring your clothed pussy. Your cute, delicate underwear had a big wet patch on it, making him smirk. "Already, hm?"

Yeosang pulled them down and spread your legs, admiring your wet cunt. "Fuck, aren't you a beautiful thing?" Jongho took place beside Yeosang, spreading your legs even more.

You could feel a wetness press against your entrance, and then another, making you gasp loudly. Yeosang and Jongho took turns as they slid their tongues inside your wet hole, tasting your arousal. "Fuck, that's so good," Jongho moaned. Your hips bucked as his nose came in contact with your clit, sparking some sensitivity from you.

"S-sangie, ah~" you groaned as he moaned, pumping his tongue into your pussy, Jongho nibbling on your thigh as he did so. Yunho and Mingi still played with your sensitive nipples, but now as they made out with each other right in front of you.

San and Seonghwa were across from each other, still taken aback from the fact this was actually happening. All they knew was to get naked as soon as humanly possible. They took their cocks in their hands, stroking it as they watched the others.

Wooyoung and Hongjoong were still lost in their make-out, grinding hard-on's against each other. Yunho broke the kiss between him and Mingi and pulled him into his lap to kiss him again. That's when you noticed the lonely San. "San, baby, come closer," you panted out. Yeosang sucked harshly on your clit before plunging his tongue inside you again. Jongho's fingers were quick to find it's way to your sensitive clit, rubbing it quickly.

San scooched over to you. He straddled you hovering over your lap, sitting on his knees, cock rockhard against his toned stomach. You took it into your hand and stroked it slowly. He threw his head back as you sped up gradually, making him moan out your name.

"P-please, please, fuck," he moaned. You moaned along with him as the two between your legs showed no signs of stopping. They played you with their fingers and tongues, switching places and swallowing arousal from each other's tongues every few moments.

"Please what, Sannie?" You said with a smirk, followed by a shriek as you felt two fingers stretch your hole, fucking into you so fast your breath couldn't catch up. "I wanna cum, I want you to make me cum, all over your torso, please, I wanna cum all over," he groaned.

Your hands worked harder and faster and before you knew it he came with a loud moan, spilling his cum all over your chest and stomach. The sight of San bursting right in front of you sent you over the edge, cumming down on Jongho's fingers with a loud cry. "Yes! Fuck!"

Jongho rode out your orgasm and licked off his fingers. In the meantime Wooyoung and Hongjoong had stopped their make-out and gotten naked. Jongho stood up and smirked, getting naked in front of you. His thick member was throbbing and leaking pre-cum. You licked your lips as you watched San push him onto the couch. He must've noticed his dripping length and gotten needy. God, San was being so needy and hot.

San was between Jongho's legs in no time, licking stripes from the base to the tip of his cock. "Hyung," Jongho moaned out. His fingers ran through San's raven locks as he pushed San's head down on himself.

Hongjoong made his way to the eldest, sitting beside him and taking his cock into his hand. He spit on the length and smeared it out, wrist-action literally to die for. Seonghwa threw his head back and moaned, whined.

You got intrigued by what was going on with the eldest two so you decided to get closer. Hwa was moaning as Hongjoong worked his hand up and down his cock, teeth marking his neck. You kisses his neck as well and he whimpered out your name. "Let me finger you, please," Seonghwa moaned. You nodded desperately, wanting nothing more than his beautiful and slender fingers to pump inside your wet pussy.

You spread your legs for him and his hand slid over your crotch, collecting some of your arousal on his fingers. He slid two of them inside you, slowly pumping in and out. The squelching was like music to his ears, and it just turned him on more.

Wooyoung decided to come close and play with you too. He stood in front of you and lowered himself to kiss you passionately, one hand on your cheek and one in your hair, which he pulled pretty roughly, making you moan for him. He found this the perfect opportunity to slid his tongue inside your mouth.

You moaned uncontrollably, barely able to keep kissing Wooyoung when Seonghwa's fingers found your g-spot. "Fuck, you want it there baby? Take it there," Seonghwa grunted. "Yes, Yes right there, keep it right there, harder Seonghwa! Harder!" You moaned out inbetween kisses. Wooyoung pulled away and got himself and Hongjoong naked.

You briefly looked at the tallest two. They were stripping each other as their lips and tongues still collided. You felt yourself clenching around Seonghwa's fingers as you saw their big cocks twitching from arousal. Yeosang sat beside them and watched them, slowly pumping his own cock.

A loud cry was heard from Jongho as he fucked up into San's mouth. The grip in his hair was tight and San was whining and whimpering, sobbing on his cock as he let the maknae use him. His cheeks were hollowed and his eyes were full of tears, rolling back into his head. With a loud moan Jongho came, spurting his cum down San's throat. He panted loudly as Jongho pulled him off his member.

Yeosang got to San's side quickly, forcing his mouth open and spitting in it. "Swallow, come on," he ordered. San did as he was told, nodding as a tear fell down his cheek. "That's a good boy."

Seonghwa was still fucking you with his fingers as Hongjoong was fisting his cock. ''I-I'm getting so close,'' he whined out loud. Hongjoong smirked and let go off his cock, denying his orgasm. ''N-No, why?'' he cried out, his fingers stopping inside you as he panted. Hongjoong pulled Seonghwa's hand away from you and brought it to his own mouth, licking and sucking the arousal from Seonghwa's fingers. You whined and sighed, horniness almost overwhelming.

''Y/N, Get on the carpet,'' Wooyoung ordered. You nodded and did exactly that, feeling the soft carpet on your skin as you laid on your back. ''God, I wanna fuck you so bad, I can't wait any longer,'' he grunted as he pushed his thick member inside of you. You whined as he did so, cunt still so sensitive from all the pleasure the other guys gave you earlier.

''O-Oh my God, Woo, so big!''

Wooyoung smirked as he sensually rolled his hips into you. ''Oh? Babygirl thinks I'm big hm? You like that, big cocks? Bet you can't wait 'til all of us have been inside you. I just had to go first baby.''

''That feels so good! Fuck, harder Youngie!'' you moaned out as Wooyoung picked up his pace. Your legs tangled around Wooyoung's waist, wanting to keep him deep inside you. Suddenly you noticed a shadow over you. Mingi.

Mingi straddled you, his back facing Wooyoung, who was still fucking into you. Before you could ask him what he was doing his hands were all over your breasts. ''Mmh, Mingi,'' you moaned out. ''I fucking love your tits baby,'' he grunted in a low voice, cock twitching lightly. ''Yeah? You fucking love 'em huh?'' ''Fuck, yeah baby I do.''

''Why don't you fuck 'em then?'' Yeosang suddenly suggested, sitting beside you with a bottle of lube in his hand. ''Hmm, that sounds really fucking good. Gimme that lube,'' Mingi smirked. He squirted a nice amount of lube on his cock and ordered Yeosang to spread it out nicely for him.

Mingi grabbed your boobs and squished them together. He slowly rolled his hips forward, his lubed up cock slipping in and out of the gap between your breasts. ''Oh yeah... Fuck,'' Mingi cursed underneath his breath. As Mingi slowly lost him in the pleasure Wooyoung was trying to match his pace as well as staring at his ass. The boys gradually moved faster, the three of you becoming a moaning mess in unison.

Yeosang was stroking his cock as he watched the three of you. He somehow felt a sense of control and power over you as you were just doing anything he told you to. ''Grope her, Woo,'' Yeosang ordered. Wooyoung was quick to obey as he rutted into her at an inhumane pace, hands all over your thighs.

''Fuckin' hell, baby I'm so close, gonna fuck you full,'' he moaned out. After a few more thrusts he came deep inside you, creaming your hole. Just a few seconds after Wooyoung came inside you, Mingi orgasmed as well, spurting his cum all over your chest and the valley between your breasts. The guys rode out their highs before getting off you and panting, recovering from their climaxes.

Yunho didn't waste any time, getting on the floor between your legs, diving his face into your pussy. ''Fuck, I've been waiting for this pussy,'' he grunted as he licked your pussy clean, tasting Wooyoung's cum on his tongue. He kissed all over your body and slowly got to your stomach and chest, licking all the cum off your body. ''O-Oh my God, Yunho,'' you whimpered.

''Gonna fuck you now, gonna let you bounce on my cock. Jongho get the fuck here. We're gonna fuck this little one.'' Jongho nodded and moved towards you. Yunho laid down as he pulled you into his lap. His hands rested on your hips as you guided yourself down onto his dick. You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut, moaning at the big stretch. You felt Jongho's hot body against your back as he slid into your pussy from behind. You cried out, tears stinging in your eyes.

As the guys gave you time to adjust to their lengths your gaze landed on Wooyoung and San. San laid on top of Wooyoung as his fingers pumped inside him. Holy fuck. ''T-That's it Sannie, right there, you know it, yeah, right there, get me nice and ready for your fat dick, that's it! Y-yes, good fuckin' boy!''

San was so eager to please Wooyoung who laid in front of him. His legs were spread wide for everyone to see as he stroked his own cock slowly. ''Put that cock in me now baby, come on, fuck me,'' he smirked. San nodded desperately and lubed up his length before sliding it inside Wooyoung, who moaned out at the feeling.

''Oh fuck, Woo, you feel so perfect,'' San said as he thrusted into him. He wasted no time to let Wooyoung adjust, roughly fucking into him. They let out little whines and puffs before their moans got louder, San going faster to the point he seemed to have become some kind of sex animal.

You started bouncing on the two cocks filling you up as you kept watching Wooyoung and San fuck. ''Fuck, that's so hot,'' you moaned out. Wooyoung kept spurring San on, dirty-talking him and completely driving him inside until he cried out and came inside him.

That's when Jongho and Yunho both started to fuck into you rapidly. Your mouth fell open, moans spilling out as your eyes rolled back from being fucked into oblivion. You could barely think or hold yourself up anymore as you got railed harder than ever before.

''Look at how fucking shameless you are,'' Yunho grunted, ''you like that huh? You're looking like such a pretty mess for us, letting us use you like a little fucktoy. But you fucking love it don't ya?''

''Fuck, I do, I do, I do!'' you chanted as your nails dug into Yunho's chest. The way they kept pounding their cocks into you and how Jongho panted and moaned into your ear gave you goosebumps and drove you crazy. ''I-I c-can't,'' you muttered, ''I-I'm gonna cum!''

''Cum with us precious, come on, cum on our big cocks, you like that huh? Bet you've been wanting to fuck our big cocks for so long now. Come on baby, come for us and we'll breed the fuck outta you,'' Jongho groaned into your ear. A few more thrusts later you came undone, falling down onto Yunho's chest as your body shook and shivered. The two men came simultaneously, filling your pussy up.

You sighed, content with the way you were so nicely filled. Yunho put you down on the couch where you slowly got down from your high. Then you saw Wooyoung bending San over and pounding into him, muscles flexing so hard it instantly got you wet again. Hongjoong came close to you and kissed your neck. ''You'll be a good girl and suck me off, right?''

''God, yes,'' you gasped and you got on your knees quickly, sitting on the ground between his legs. You wasted no time to wrap your mouth around his length. You licked and sucked, nearly slobbering all over his dick as he pushed your head down with a loud moan of your name. Yeosang got behind you and lubed up his dick a little before sliding into you.

''Fuck you stretch around me so nicely... So easily... They did a nice job fucking you open, didn't they?'' Yeosang smirked, hands roaming your ass. You moaned around Hongjoong's cock at Yeosang's words, bobbing your head up and down eagerly.

''I love how you take every inch of us baby, you take it so well. You must be made to take cock in those pretty little holes of yours,'' Hongjoong smirked. Yeosang started to fuck you back and forth, forcing you down on the elder's cock who warned you he was about to get close soon. You gagged on his cock as Yeosang didn't show any signs of slowing down. Hongjoong quickly pulled out his cock, cumming all over your face.

''Fuck, so pretty like that.''

You moaned and panted loudly, whining out Yeosang's name over and over again. Suddenly he pulled out of your cunt, spinning you around. You were laid down on the floor as he hovered above you, fisting his cock until he came with a low groan, his cum mixing with Hongjoong's.

You were so spent, laying on the soft, fuzzy carpet. You seriously thought you could fall asleep until you realized you hadn't fucked with San and Seonghwa yet. San was still busy getting railed like there's no tomorrow so you figured you'd try the other. Seonghwa was stroking his cock to the sight of them, so he was surprised to suddenly see you - covered in cum - in front of him. ''Fuck,'' he cursed underneath his breath.

''Do you still have some energy to spare, Hwa...? I haven't felt your cock in me yet,'' you pouted. The puppy eyes, pout and your smokin' body could never make him say no. San suddenly moaned out your name. Then Seonghwa's name.

''That's it, you got their attention, now be a good boy and get them here huh?'' Wooyoung grunted as he railed him in a position you were not bendy enough for.

''P-Please come here I need you, I want you, W-Want you!''

You smirked and dragged Seonghwa over to San and Wooyoung. Wooyoung pulled out of San briefly. ''Here's how we're gonna do this,'' he started, ''Seonghwa you're gonna lay down. Y/N you'll get on top of him and San, you're gonna fuck her from behind.''

The three of you obeyed Wooyoung and got in these exact positions. It was just like it was with Jongho and Yunho, except you were too tired to properly hold yourself up. You rested on your elbows on either side of Seonghwa's body as his hands roamed your ass. San slid his cock inside you besides Seonghwa's and quickly started moving. He was whining and nearly sobbing in your neck from the sensitivity.

The three of you moved in such a nice flow, moaning left and right, bodies rolling together, sweat dripping from each body and you swore it was like the most perfect porn movie in existance. Suddenly San cried out and lunged forward, calling out Wooyoung's name.

Wooyoung had assembled all the guys and ordered them to come closer. They had gathered 'round the four of you before Wooyoung suddenly slid back into San's ass. ''Y-Youngie, please, I'm so sensitive,'' he pleaded. But he showed no mercy, fucking into San even harder than before, fucking San right into you as well.

Seonghwa whined and bucked up his hips as Yeosang encouraged him to. ''That's it, fuck up into her, God, that's so hot.'' ''Fuck, fuck, oh my God!'' you moaned loudly. The remaining five guys stood there stroking their cocks quickly, watching the most sinful foursome ever witnessed. The lewd noises and sounds were so pornographic you could've made serious money with this.

It didn't take long before everyone was cumming, one after another, cum filling you and San up and cum landing on your thighs and backs. So much was happening and the pleasure and situation was so overwhelming that when the guys slipped out of you you passed out.

You woke up a while later in your bed where Seonghwa was snuggled up against you. ''Hey, there you are... You fell asleep there... I think. We don't know if you just fell asleep or killed you by dicking you down,'' he grinned softly. He gave you a bottle of water and some head pats as you smiled at him. ''You're all good?'' ''Yeah, I'm okay, just really sore... Thank you for cleaning me up and bringing me here... And staying here with me,'' you spoke. You took a sip from the bottle, coughing to scratch your sore throat.

''That's not a problem... Wooyoung should've done it though cause it was his idea but I doubt if he's still alive cause I believe someone sucked him off in the bathroom.'' You giggled and drank some more before laying down. ''This won't change a thing right? Besides that it might happen again...''

''Well we could play truth or dare again next week?''

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [14K] PART ONE OF TWO old money steve, an infatuated waitress, no labels, a disaster waiting to happen. some smut, some jealousy and too many mentions of monaco. 18+

And, baby, for you I would fall from grace

He came into the dining room of the club one Saturday afternoon. Sunkissed, tall, broad, stubble on his jaw and a gold chain glinting from the collar of his white shirt. He had a navy sweater draped over his shoulders, expensive sunglasses in his shirt's front pocket, an unassuming looking leather strapped watch on his wrist - but you’d learned well before then how to tell the difference between new money and old money.   

And Steve Harrington was old, old money. 

The watch cost more than your car and a year's rent on your apartment. Fuck, it cost more than you’d probably ever make working behind the bar of Hawkins’ country club. It cost more than the short black dress you were made to wear, the one that cinched you in at the waist and flared out over your thighs. It shone more than the gold plated name badge that was pinned on your chest, making your plunging neckline even more obvious. It cost more than the black heels that were part of your uniform, more than the five dollar balm that made your lips glossy and peach coloured. 

But still, Steve Harrington and his old, old money noticed you. 

—————

The restaurant was full, the bar even busier, the smoking lounge that sat through the double doors stuffed with leather chairs, studded couches, velvet footstools and table lined with cigars in wooden boxes. The full place smelled like bourbon and smoke, expensive cologne, perfume that cost even more. 

The Lake House country club was Hawkins’ finest institute, an old Manor House that was built on the shore of Lovers Lake, across the water from where teens liked to lurk in their cars and between tree trunks. The Lake House was where the town's elite came to dine, to drink, to lounge and talk. There were brunches with champagne and whisky, afternoon tea with ladies who wore diamonds and pearls, dinners with wine from 1802 and business meetings on the golfing green. Money poured from the club and filled the cracks in the old bricks, men with their daddy’s money bringing in their daughters, their sons, their wives. And when the family drove home in their Bentley, girlfriend’s arrived in red bottomed shoes, perching on laps in the smoking lounge like it was their jobs. 

Maybe it was. You weren’t supposed to ask. 

Your job was to stay behind the bar, a huge mahogany thing that took up most of the back wall. Everything was dark wood and lined with green velvet, the bar stools suede and gold studded, the bottles of alcohol on the glass shelves nothing less than a month's paycheck each. Martini glasses glittered, whisky was in the air like car fumes and the lime you were cutting into wheels was making the cut on your finger pulse.  

He walked in then, into the busy room like he owned it. The Harringtons were certainly wealthy enough to do so, but Michael Harrington and his wife simply liked to dine at the club on Sundays, take up on the tennis courts midweek and finish the day at the spa with a massage each. 

Six hundred dollars a session to hire out the court, four hundred dollar scotch, three hundred dollar steaks (eighty dollars more for the potato dauphinoise), five hundred dollars for a couples massage. Oh, and a one hundred dollar tip for the fucker unfortunate enough to have to deal with them. 

In cash, of course. 

But their son? Steve Harrington moved out of Hawkins long before anyone could work out if he’d grow up to be as cold as his father. Away from small towns, rumour had it he went to New York, an apartment in Manhattan, a job on Wall Street where he started at the bottom and worked his way up on luck, expensive vodka and daddy’s money. But then again, others said he spent his summers in Europe, talks of Italian villas, vineyards in Tuscany, selling yachts to the elite in Cannes, spending his time trading money through casinos, long months in Monaco during the spring. 

Seeing him back in Hawkins was unusual, uncommon, a goddamn rarity - but there he was, letting himself drop into the barstool in front of you like a Greek god etched from marble so expensive that you could barely afford to look at it. He sat with a friend, another twenty something that looked more man than boy because of their tailored trousers, crisp shirts, linen and cashmere and gold on their wrists, round their necks, family rings on their hands. 

Steve Harrington didn’t click his fingers at you like other members of the club did when they demanded to be served, but he did rap two knuckles against the bar top, a gold band on his middle finger hitting the wood. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up, careful and cuffed just below his elbows, the top three buttons undone to show off tanned skin and a smattering of chest hair. More gold, a thin chain settling in the dip of his throat, stubble along his jaw that looked like it was there deliberately, not because he’d forgotten to shave. 

You held your breath when you approached. You’d never served the youngest Harrington before - fuck, you’d never seen him here - but you knew who he was and the reputation dripped from him. 

Old money, older estates, acres of land, shares in companies that were so ridiculously rich you didn’t know what they were for. Fast cars, scandals in Europe, yachts with his name on it.  

Stomach in knots, you straightened up, smoothed down then front of your dress and put on the same smile you used for all the club members. “Gentlemen,” you greeted, “what can I get you both?”

Steve looked at you but his friend didn’t, his back to you as he surveyed the room, mumbling comments about the lack of skirt that showed up this early in the afternoon. You recognised him, a regular in the later evenings, Jonathan Byers, a fiend for a good cigar, an even bigger fan of the girls that held the poker events on weekends. 

“Two Macallans,” Steve told you, already fishing out a money clip from his trouser pocket. The clip was gold, engraved with his initials: SMH. “Twenty year reserve, no ice.”

He really looked at you then, thumbing through one hundred dollar bills, eyes raking up and down your frame as you stood and listened diligently. Even when you turned to pull the bottle of scotch off the top shelf, you could feel him watching, one eyebrow quirked, full lips parted just a little, the top of his tongue peeking from between. Steve looked interested, intrigued. Maybe just a little less bored than before. 

You kept your head down, polishing the tumblers before you poured, a three finger amount of the dark amber liquid and the smell of fire and smoke filled your nose. You’d watched enough men sit around the bar and swirl their drinks under the nostrils, waffling about notes of chocolate and spice before they sipped. It all smelled the same, no matter what price was on the label, like car fuel and burning. Steve downed the drink in one when you handed it to him, like he wasn’t swallowing liquid fire that cost him more than you’d make in a week. 

You watched as his throat bobbed, his lips coming away from the rim of the glass a little glossy, how he licked over his bottom one to catch any alcohol that lingered. Then he grinned, all perfect teeth and charm before he passed you six hundred dollars in notes. 

You nodded your thanks and went to the cash register, smiling what you hoped was politely as you tried to hand him back his change. Ninety dollars, pressed neatly in a pile of twenties and tens. The boy waved you off, still paying a lot of attention to the bare skin along your neckline, gaze running up the column of your throat. His eyes found yours when he finally spoke and god, they were the same colour as the scotch he just shotted.  

“Keep the change, honey.” Steve smiled again, a smug thing that made you aware of how warm your cheeks were. Then he slid on a pair of sunglasses he took from his shirt pocket and pushed his hair back with a hand, nudging his friend to drink up before they both slid off the stools. “Just make sure it goes in your own pocket, okay?”

You gaped at him. The Lake House’s policy when it came to tips - no matter how generous - was for them to be placed in a jar in the back office, ready to be split between staff, however hard individuals had worked, or not worked, that shift. 

The money burnt your fingers. “Um, that’s very generous but I can’t—”

Steve lifted a navy sweater he’d draped on the back of his chair, crushing the soft fabric with one hand. He used the other to reach out, plucking the bills from your fingers so he could fold them all together. His gaze met yours when he leaned back over the bar, unblinking, knuckles grazing the bare skin above your chest when he tucked the money into the neckline of your dress. It stayed there, hidden and you had to snap your jaw shut when Steve grinned at you before he pulled away. 

He raised a finger to his lips, like you were sharing a secret and not a sackable offence and his friend snorted, like he’d seen it all before. Maybe he had. 

“See you next time, honey,” Steve drawled, fishing keys out of his pocket. The silver logo of BMW glinted in the low lighting. “Thanks for the drinks.”

That was the first time you met Steve Harrington. 

Just to touch your face

The next time, he was with a group of people in the smoking lounge, all of them loud, most of them dirty rich and he had a girl on his lap. A waifish thing, pretty and delicate with a ruby pendant that settled in the dip of her chest. She held a martini glass aloft, one that you had to refill and you cursed The Lake House and its rules as your heels taptaptapped across the marble tiles. The hem of your dress swished across your thighs, your hand held a gold tray and the fresh martini swirled in its glass atop it, a well practised movement that made sure none of it spilled. The olive inside tumbled around gin and vermouth. 

Inside of the lounge, smoke billowed. Cigars and cigarettes poised between fingertips, hanging from lips that couldn’t help but spill secrets about their dirty businesses, the people they slept with before, the people they’d bed tonight. Nobody moved out of your way as you squeezed past tables and between the low sofas, leather and velvet brushing the backs of your thighs until you were able to present Steve Harrington’s lap warmer with her new drink. 

She took it from your tray, replaced it with her empty glass and said nothing. It was her hand on Steve’s chest that caused him to look away from the men he was talking with, a hushed sounding discussion about money in Monaco, about the company and its takings for that summer. He frowned at the girl and her pawing until he caught sight of you, his lips lifting in a smile that seemed more dangerous than welcoming. 

You smiled back, polite to a fault, throat going dry when you watched Steve’s gaze drop to that bare expanse of skin above your neckline. It wasn’t obscene, it wasn’t even suggestive. In fact, there was barely any amount of cleavage on show at all per the clubs rules but Steve was fixated on a freckle below your collarbone and the feel of his eyes on you made you fidget. 

You tucked the tray under one arm and tried not to shuffle on the spot. “Can I get you anything, sir?”

There was something in Steve’s reaction to your question. Maybe it was the ‘sir,’ the way you tipped your head towards him when you said it, soft and gentle and pretty. He knew you had to call all the members of the club such niceties but Steve’s eyes flashed and his lips parted, the hand he had on the arm of the sofa curling around the leather a little tighter. 

“A Macallan,” he asked, just like the first time. “No—”

“No ice,” you finished for him, nodding. “I’ll bring that right over.”

You blew out a breath when you turned, heels clicking on the marble as you made your way back to the bar. The lights were dimmed throughout the club in the evening, wall sconces letting out a warm glow, the huge fireplace in the main lounge roaring, popping and cracking with wooden logs. The whole place smelled like pine, like cedar and smoke and expensive leather. Women laughed softly, hanging off their husbands arms, dripping in pearls, in jewels, in false pretences. You smiled nicely at passing club members as you poured Steve’s drink, hands a little shaky from you out down to missing your lunch break, not excitement.

Definitely not nerves. 

You placed the chilled glass back on the tray, amber liquid shining inside the crystal, and made your way to the smoking lounge. Steve was alone when you returned, his lap empty, the girl gone. Not just from his lap, but from the room entirely. You scanned the lounge, expecting to see her on her way back, maybe with a complaint about the drink you made her, just to make you feel small but no - she’d been removed. Your heart skipped, an awful stuttering feeling that you didn’t want to feel. Lowering the tray, you offered Steve his drink, gaze cast down as you felt his on you the entire time. Steve leaned up, too close, taking his drink and smiling at you. 

You were just about to leave when:

“Why don’t you join me?”

The rest of the room was as loud as it was before, music under voices, laughter mixed with a saxophone record, conversations in the smoke. But Steve’s voice rang out almost too clearly from amongst it all. Still, you blinked at him, lips parting in surprise. “Sorry?”

Steve nodded at the seat next to him as he sank back into the couch, an arm thrown over the back of it as he took a sip of his scotch. The watch on his wrist caught the low light as he ripped the glass against his lips, cheeks flushed from the log burner. 

He was dressed in what you assumed he’d deem a little more casual than the last time you saw him. A black silk shirt, short sleeved and with the top few buttons undone again. No visible label, no ostentatious brand name on the chest but you knew well enough by then to know that just meant it was even more expensive. Black trousers, tailored for him and a pair of black boots with a sharp toe. His hair was less styled, maybe from the way his lost friend had been running her fingers through it earlier. Strands of it fell into his eyes and you swallowed hard when you realised you were staring. 

“Take a seat,” Steve asked again, lips curling up in amusement at your flustered expression. 

You blinked at him before you remembered to stand back up straight, tucking the tray back under your arm and hoping that none of the club's managerial staff were lingering nearby. You’d already spent too long away from the bar. “I, um, I can’t. I’m sorry,” you pressed your lips together and tried not to look too regretful. “I'm working.”

Steve snorted, a sound that should’ve been more unattractive than it was but it only made you want to hear what he had to say. He took another pull of his drink, barely wincing when the burn of it trickled down his throat. You did the maths in your head, wondering how it felt to be swallowing seventy dollar sips. He raised his brows and shrugged, looking around theatrically.

“And?” The boy smiled, equal parts pretty and smug. 

You were a little flustered, both at how nice he looked when he smiled and how bold he was being. You opened and closed your lips before parting them again, another polite smile there. “I need to get back to the bar,” you explained. “I’ll get into tr—”

“Trouble?” Steve finished. He shook his head and grinned, a megawatt thing that made you understand that, yes, all the rumours were true. That the famed Harrington Charm was very much a thing. But fuck, his father didn’t smile at you like that. In fact, he didn’t smile at all. “Oh, honey. No one gets in trouble unless I say so. Worried Frederick is gonna fire you?”

Steve dropped the name of your manager like they were friends. They probably were. He looked at you expectantly over the rim of his glass as he took another sip, licking the liquid from his lips. You wondered if he tasted as expensive as his liquor choices. 

You nodded, shrugging, grasping for a reason to say no to this boy - this man. The line at the bar was growing, annoyed looking men clicking their fingers at a flustered looking new girl who was trying to pour champagne into a wine glass. Guilt gnawed at your stomach. 

“He won’t fire you,” Steve assured. He patted the leather next to him, gold ring glinting in the warm light. “C’mon. Sit. I want to talk to you.”

You couldn’t help yourself. 

“Do you always get what you want?” You said it quietly, watching Steve’s lips curl into a grin when he heard. 

Another smile, mega watt, just for you. He tipped his head back and laughed, a pretty sounding thing that made the muscles down his neck stand out, chin tilted up to the gold leafed ceiling. 

“Yeah,” he told you, eyes dancing, cheeks flushed from the fire, the lights, the scotch. “I do.” 

You shouldn’t have done it. You weren’t allowed. There were strict rules about staff mingling with club members - fuck, it was written in red ink on your contract. You were too used to some of the clientele pushing the limits, trying to soften your boundaries with wads of cash, talks of a private plane to some European city where their wife didn’t like to visit. Older men, rich men, business men, family men. All looking for someone young and easily led and agreeable to have fun with between meetings and luncheons, someone to light their cigar and top up their drink for them. They liked to look at you like something to eat up, to chew up, to spit out when they were done and Frederick inevitably hired someone new and younger and prettier. 

You’d seen it happen before. Girls sucked into the lifestyle they could never have, coming into work with new shoes, red bottomed heels with their uniform dress, a Chanel lipstick in their purse, a Porsche waiting outside for them after their shift finished and in the end, a scorned wife in the dining room ready to throw a drink over them. 

You’d seen it all.  

But Steve Harrington was looking at you with so much intrigue. A pretty smile behind his tiny glass of three hundred dollar scotch, messy hair, bright eyes, that black silk shirt that looked easy to slip your fingers into. He was younger, more subtle with it all but the easy confidence in which he spoke to you had you squeezing your thighs together and wondering if your chest would stop feeling as tight. 

It didn’t. 

You sat down. 

Steve grinned, victorious and he moved against the leather sofa so he was sitting back against the arm, turned to face you fully. He brought one foot up to rest on his other knee, hand curling around his leg, and from there you could see the tiny brand on his loafers, a little gold insignia. Yves Saint Laurent. You wanted to laugh. His shoes cost more than you made in three months. 

“What’s your name?” Steve asked. 

You wore the same gold plated pin that every other staff member wore. The Lake House engraved on it along with the logo, a stupidly elaborate key. Underneath, your name was printed in bold letters, but Steve wasn’t looking at it. He was watching your face, brows raised expectantly. He wanted to hear you speak. 

Pressing the tray to your lap, you lingered on the edge of the couch, eyes darting around for your boss, or worse, the girl this man was last seen with. Was it his girlfriend? Did he have a wife? You weren’t sure how old Steve was, but you didn’t see a ring on his wedding finger, not that that meant much in a place like The Lake House. Wedding bands frequented coat pockets more than fingers here. 

You swallowed and told him your name, your voice cracking with nerves that you tried to laugh at but that came out wobbly too. Your shyness made Steve grin a little wider, his wide hands curling around his ankle as he lounged back against the cushions and appraised you with a look that shouldn’t have been proper for public. 

He repeated your name back to you and it sounded so much sweeter on his lips. He said it slowly, a low murmur that made your tummy clench, like he was tasting it out, tasting it on his tongue. “That’s a pretty name,” he said. “I’m Steve Harr—”

You laughed, sharp and surprised. “I know who you are, Mr Harrington.”

If Steve was shocked by his news, he didn’t show it. It was your job to know the members, after all. Their names, their families, the work they were in. Their favourite table, their favourite drink, the time they liked to dine, their preferred slot for playing a round of golf. So instead he smiled and nodded before holding out a hand. 

You took it and he squeezed gently, shaking it politely as he said, “well then, please call me Steve.”

You nodded, wondering if that was allowed. None of this was allowed. Fuck, you glanced around again, eyes a little wide, wondering if Frederick was in his office, god forbid, watching you through the cameras. Steve must’ve noticed this, because he swallowed down the last of his scotch and set the empty glass on the table. You’d have to move it soon. 

“Relax.” His arm stretched out along the back of the sofa, tanned and corded with lithe muscles. His fingers tapped a beat on the leather, close to your shoulder. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

You laughed, a shaky, ironic sounding thing. You forgot who you were talking to, just for a second, your heart pumping. “That’s easy for you to say.” You swore then, a pained noise, because Frederick was marching out of his office, three piece suit right across his shoulders and his pocket watch swinging.

He was coming over. 

You made a noise similar to a squeak, drinks tray clutched to your chest and you made to jump up but Steve’s hand stopped you. Warm and wide, it took up most of your knee and you blinked at it in surprise. He didn’t move it when you stared at him and he still didn’t move it when Frederick approached, red faced and nostrils flaring. 

“Mr Harrington, sir, it’s so good to see you back at The Lake House,” your manager began, his voice a well practised purr. There was a slight British tinge to his voice, one you knew was fake. “Please take my sincerest apologies for you being bothered. I’ll be asking my staff to join me in the office for a much required conversation about professional boundaries. Please excu—”

“Fred,” Steve greeted warmly, his smile much more forced than the one he’d been giving you. Frederick twitched. “Nice to see you.” Steve’s hand still covered your lower thigh and squeezed slightly, in what you thought was supposed to be reassuring but his thumb on the inside of your knee made you too warm. “No need for anything like that, actually.” Steve said your name, wrapped it around his tongue and licked over his lip like he was savouring it before he continued. “—was invited to sit with me.”

The clubhouse manager hardened, a flash of annoyance going over his features and his neck grew more red in anger. He smiled through it, a tight lipped thing that Steve grinned at and you had to duck your head, panic ripping through your body. You couldn’t lose this job. 

“How nice,” Frederick finally ground out. He clasped his hands in front of him and glared at you from the sides of his eyes before he smiled at Steve again. “I hope my staff is doing her utmost to keep you pleased, Mr Harrington. Do not hesitate to ask for anything.”

You hated the way he said it, like any club member could get anything they wanted from you, just because they had enough money to be here. It made you square off your shoulders and lift your head, emboldened. Steve was watching you, that look of intrigue on his face once more. He nodded at Frederick and then gestured to his empty glass. 

“Actually, Freddie, could you be a pal and fetch me another?” His tone was too polite, bordering on patronising. Frederick’s tight smile grew tighter, a thin line that stretched across his ruddy face until you feared it might split. “A Macallan, no ice. Anything for the lady?” Steve turned to you and winked, a subtle thing that let you know everything was under control. 

But you knew better than to rock the boat, better than that, you knew not to drink on the job. Especially from the club’s bar. The only thing you could afford from behind the mahogany counter was the one thing Steve always refused. Ice. 

“No, thank you,” you murmured. 

Your manager had no choice but to walk away, his back rigid, proverbial steam coming out from his ears. You watched him snap Steve’s order at a poor, unsuspecting barman who then brought it back over on another shiny tray. He raised his brows at you when Steve thanked him for it and you shrugged, not knowing what was going on either. 

When he left, Steve turned back to you, leaning back into the sofa. He looked more tanned that the last time you’d seen him. Maybe it was the dim lighting, the warm glow from the sconces along the walls, the amber coloured shade on the lamp beside him. Maybe he’d just been back to Italy. 

Monaco. France. Spain. 

He took a sip, eyes dancing over you and when he brought the drink back down to rest on his knee, he spoke. “Have you worked here long?”

It took you a second to realise he was speaking to you again, his voice lower and softer than it had been with your boss. You noticed Steve has a habit of direct eye contact, always looking right into your own eyes as he spoke. It was a little jarring, the confidence, that bold type of charm that must come with always getting what you want. 

“Uh, yeah,” you scrunched your nose, trying to remember months and years. “Three years now, or close enough.”

“I should’ve come back sooner,” Steve quipped back, his smile easy, his eyes roaming over you. His ring tapped against his glass of scotch and you didn’t know what to do. Was he flirting with you? “Do you live in town?”

“Couple miles out, smaller place near Sugar Creek.” You weren’t sure why you were telling him this. 

“Yeah, I know it,” Steve replied. “Makes sense, why I hadn’t seen you around before. Did you go to school ‘round here?”

You felt like you were being interviewed. A handsome, rich man asking the questions, sitting easy in his throne and you had an awful, awful urge to please him with your answers. To do good. To be praised. 

“I went to St. Mary’s High in Green Bay,” you swallowed, your tongue feeling too big for you mouth. Nerves bubbled in your stomach. “Then I was supposed to move to California— Berkeley.” You winced, remembering. 

Steve looked surprised, eyebrows raised, nodding. “What was your major?”

“Social law.”

Steve hummed. “Smart girl.” There it was. That praise. You tingled with it. “What happened?”

You heard the words he didn’t say, the unasked question. ‘Why aren’t you there? Why are you here? Wearing that silly little dress and heels that hurt your feet and that fake, fake smile that makes your cheeks hurt so much you want to scream into your pillow when you get home every night?’

You pondered over what to say. How truthful to be. How blunt, how ugly and honest. Shit, you could’ve said. Family, parents, money, bad luck, worse circumstances. Housing, a broken down car, an apartment that fell through at the last minute, a scholarship that didn’t happen, an aunt that got sick, a mom who didn’t like to let go. 

Instead you smiled politely and said: “life.” 

Steve gave you a wry smile in return, one that told you he could see through it all and he knew exactly what you wanted to say. Like he knew you weren’t allowed to and you were playing by the rules. Frederick was at the bar, staring at your back until you felt your bones crunch with the weight of it. 

Steve finished his drink, slid his glass onto the table and ran a hand through his hair. “It was nice to talk to you,” he said simply. He took your hand, not to shake it like last time, no. Instead he held it for a beat or two, and when he took his away, neatly folded bills were left between your fingers. They burned. 

“For the table service,” he said as a way of explaining. You didn’t know if he meant the drink or you. “I’ll see you next time, honey.”

And then he left. You watched him saunter through the bar, nodding and smiling at people who greeted him, taking his jacket from someone at the door and then he was gone. 

That was the second time you met Steve Harrington. 

If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay

A week later you were clocking into work with the intention of heading to the staff locker rooms, ready to wrestle yourself into that black dress the club called a uniform. It was early afternoon on a Wednesday and The Lake House was quiet, a few greying women you knew to be part of the book club were sat having tea by a window, a group of men leaving the gym, sweat barely there, but the towels over their shoulders had designer logos stitched in the corners. 

Frederick found you with your heels in your hand, a look of disgust on your face as you kicked off your sneakers. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the girls locker room, but he shook his head at you and took the stilettos from your hand. 

“No,” he looked irritated, as if you should’ve known better. “You’re on the green today.”

You screwed up your nose at him. You were never on the green and you told him as such. “The schedule has me in the bar all day.”

Frederick huffed as if such questions were an inconvenience to him. He ducked, rooting around in your locker as his shoulder bumped your knee and he came back with the uniform you hardly had to wear. A white tennis skirt, bordering on too short with pleats that made the men tip well, even as their wives glared. A forest green sweater to match, the same colour as the club logo, white sneakers that were brand new from never being used. 

“Special request,” your boss told you in lieu of a real explanation. “Get dressed, they’re waiting. Hurry.”

You gaped at him as he bundled the clothes into your arms. “Who’s waiting?” You called after him. “What hole?”

“Any of them,” Frederick yelled back as he walked out of the locker room and down the hall. His voice echoed back to you, a daunting thing. “He booked out the whole course.”

Driving the beer cart over the green was always a nerve wracking experience. The drinks rattled noisily and the breeze kept catching at your skirt, threatening to flip it up over your thighs as you tried to manoeuvre the buggy around the man made dunes and valleys. You weren’t sure where you were driving to, or who you were going to meet, but you kept an eye out at each hole for someone, anyone. 

It could only really be one of two people, you guessed. Mr Donaldson was harmless enough, but he had a decade or three on your own age. Divorced and the owner of a film company in Atlanta, the man liked to frequent the clubhouse during the summers he spent back in Hawkins, pretending he was visiting his young daughter when he really preferred to lounge at the bar during your shift, trying to convince you that you just needed to see his condo in Georgia. 

The only other person you could think of that would request you and you alone, was someone you haven't seen since the week before. You’d looked for him, watched the cars coming into the lot to be dropped off for the valet’s to park but you hadn’t seen any BMW’s. Steve didn’t visit the bar, didn’t spend any afternoons in the smoking lounge - you didn’t even see him with Jonathan Byers at the poker night on Tuesday. 

You thought he might’ve left town again. Back to whatever European city he’d decided on for the week, for the month. Maybe he’d gone back to New York, maybe he had meetings. Maybe he had a girlfriend, one for each country. 

Mr Donaldson was the harmless option. Annoying, sure. But bearable. Safe. Mr Harrington… he wasn’t harmless at all. You knew which one you wanted to see. 

Sure enough, you turned the corner to hole eight to see a group of young men talking and laughing around their own golf cart. You saw some familiar faces, all known for being young, handsome and rich. 

Billy Hargrove of Hargrove’s Vintage Motors. Crude, sharp witted, too flirtatious, he was the next in line to take over his father’s company and fortune, selling refurbished vehicles for prices that made your eyes water. 

Jonathan Byers was there too, a young mogul who was up and coming in the art world. Once a critic, his photography had shot to fame after some black and white nudes of his then girlfriend were ‘leaked’ to the paper he once worked for. His family paid it all off as some sort of art nouveau exhibition, a look into scandal and sex in 30mm film. He lost his girlfriend but landed a gallery in the downtown neighbourhood of San Francisco. 

Eddie Munson, someone you actually knew from high school. A decent guy, there because he worked for it, illegally, sure - but didn’t they all? One way or another? Selling weed and who knows what else to the majority of the population of Hawkins made for a popular man, but Eddie brought in bank when he started selling to the elite, the rich kids of Hawkins High who preferred powder at their parties. He got into The Lake House with cold, hard cash instead of his family name and he stayed in the background of it, usually.

A few other men lingered, clutching at clubs and practising their swings, Wall Street leeches that were stuck at the bottom of the totem pole but still decided they had enough money in their daddies bank to be able to click their fingers at you and smack your ass as their Rolex’s jingled.  

Amongst them all, in black slacks and a white polo, was Steve Harrington. Sunglasses over his eyes, leather golfing gloves on his hands, he was smirking at something Eddie said before his head snapped to you. In fact, everyone was staring at you. 

You tried to keep your head high and your expression neutral, turning off the engine to the golf cart and doing your best to swing your legs out without flashing anything you weren’t supposed to. You kept your hands on your skirt, smoothing it down, hoping that you could get through this shift without any embar—

A long whistle, salacious and eager, coming from Billy Hargrove. A few of the boy’s laughed and Billy grinned, sharklike, letting his eyes crawl from your toes to your tits. “Damn, Harrington. You paid for one of the good ones, huh? C’mere, Sugar, daddy needs a drink—”

You were frozen, standing awkwardly by the back of the buggy where the drinks were kept in a cooler, a thousand dollar pick ‘n’ mix of whisky, scotch and gin for the men to choose from. There wasn’t any Bud Light at The Lake House, not even on the green. 

But Billy didn’t get much further into his catcalls, stopped by a hand on his elbow that tugged him away from you and the other men. The snickering stopped, a heavy silence falling over the group as Steve took Billy aside with nothing more than a touch to his arm. You watched as Steve slid his sunglasses off, his hard gaze on the other boy as he whispered something too low for you to hear. But Billy listened, albeit with a glare in his eyes, but he nodded, sharp and just once. His jaw flexed. 

You didn’t know what was happening. You didn’t know what to do. You found Eddie’s gaze, saw his soft smile, knowing. He winked at you, twirling a club in his hand as he waited for the game to continue. And it did, once Steve seemingly dismissed Hargrove. The other men started talking again, easy and light like nothing had happened, requesting different drinks from you that you pulled out of the cooler, ice making your hands wet and numb. 

And all the while Steve lingered at the back of them, sitting in the driver's side of the other golf cart, waiting with his eyes on you. He didn’t approach once Jonathan left with his glass of Glenfiddich, in fact, he didn’t make out like he wanted a drink at all. So you stood by the cart like you were supposed to and watched the men take turns at swinging a stick at a ball, yelling profanities when they missed, yelling more profanities when they didn’t. 

You couldn’t help let your gaze wander to Steve, the picture of luxury as he leaned back in the leather seat, one leg out of the cart and stretched across neatly clipped grass. He was lighting a cigarette, held between his lips as he lowered his gaze to his cupped hands, gold zippo flickering with an amber flame. He looked up as he blew out the smoke, eyes finding yours, grinning when you startled. 

Steve took another drag and asked, “you not comin’ to say hi?”

Three years of ingrained obedience made your feet move forward, doing as you were told at the words of another rich man. You felt unsure, walking across the green empty handed, but Steve hadn’t asked for a drink, so you stopped just shy of where his leg was stretched out of the cart. If you moved any closer, you would’ve been between his spread knees. You clasped your hands in front of you, pressed against your little, white skirt. It lifted a little with the breeze, a sharper wind than the day before that told the town fall was coming. 

Steve watched the hem catch and fall back against your thighs, brown eyes tracking the movement to see what little new skin he could watch but apart from that, he didn’t make any of the lewd comments his friend had. 

“Mr Harrington,” you said as a greeting. “Good afternoon, can I get you anything to drink?” You were polite to a fault, well trained, good mannered, an expert in making yourself small and only seen when spoken to. 

Steve ignored your question. He inhaled his cigarette again, cheeks hollowing out, lips pursing, jaw sharpening. He smiled at you as he blew smoke out of the side of his mouth, the wind taking it away from your face. “I told you to call me Steve,” he said and his voice was quiet, a low thing that made your face heat up. You tried to apologise, but he kept talking. “How are you?”

You blinked, surprised at his question. You didn’t think you’d ever been asked that while at work. “Uh, I’m fine, thank you. How’re you?”

Steve nodded and flicked ash onto the grass, letting it sink into the course. “I’m great, thank you. Better now you’re here.” He grinned when you fidgeted, lips parting, hands unsure what to do. You twisted your fingers together a little tighter. “You okay being out here?” Steve let the cigarette balance between his lips and you watched it move as he spoke around it. “I can let you go back inside, if you’d like.”

Normally such words would be used as a trick, a trap, a warning. A subtle threat from an unhappy customer that would ensure you did as they wanted, even if it meant staying later than you were being paid for, adding extra time to their spa passes, even if it risked your own employment. But Steve looked and sounded genuine, his eyes watching you as you worked up the courage to tell him the truth.  

“It’s okay,” you finally said, voice betraying how shy you felt. You sounded confident, in control. You felt nothing of the sort, especially when the boy grinned again, wider this time and god, he looked like he owned the world and everything in it. 

“Excellent.” Steve flicked the stub of his cigarette away and pushed his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose. He tilted his head at the empty seat beside him and said: “jump in.”

You stuttered over an excuse, an explanation, eyes a little wide as you looked back over to the rest of the group, the drinks cart you were supposed to man all day. “I— I can’t? I’ve to stay with the cart all day, if I leave it I’ll get into—”

Steve cut you off with a tsk and a shake of his head. His voice turned to liquid gold as he spoke, rich and sweet and awfully condescending. It made you drip. “What did I tell you last time, huh, honey? No one’s gonna tell you off unless it’s me. Now c’mon, you don’t wanna spend some time with me?”

You could’ve stayed. You were sure Steve wouldn’t have been mad. You should’ve stayed. You were breaking rules. All of them. But Steve was grinning at you from the front seat of the golf cart, tanned arms flexed as his leather gloves gripped the wheel and all of his friends played pretend, like they couldn’t hear what was going on behind them as they took another swing. 

You should’ve stayed. Maybe went back into the clubhouse, took off your sweater and skirt and played nice behind the bar in your usual attire, serving clients old enough to be your grandfather as they slipped fifty dollar bills into your hand just so you’d lean over for them again. 

You got in the cart. 

Steve positively beamed, a hot smirk that stretched across his pretty face and you barely heard the whistles and yowls of his friends as he sped away as fast as the buggy would allow. He went off course, cruising alongside the green and heading towards the path between the woods that took you to lovers lake. 

“Feeling bad today, Berkeley?” The nickname caused your heart to jump, confirmation that he’d been listening the last time you both spoke, that he’d remembered. 

But still guilt and worry gnawed at your chest and you looked around at the empty course, half expecting to see Frederick chasing after you both in the drinks cart you’d abandoned so carelessly. What did it matter, really? The price of everything in the cart was included in whatever it had cost for Steve to book out the entire fucking course for the day. A stolen scotch or two didn’t matter. Not really. 

You didn’t know how to reply, so you didn’t say anything at all, just sitting by Steve’s side like a baby deer caught in headlights, like a good little girl that wanted to know if it really was true, if Steve really could keep you out of the trouble he was leading you into. The boy must’ve seen your bleak expression ‘cause he laughed, pushing back the hair that the wind blew across his forehead. 

“Honey, it’s fine,” Steve glanced over at you as he turned down the dirt path to the lake. You could see his eyes shining at you through his shades, amusement making them glitter. “I promise.”

So you nodded and tried to smile, doing your best to relax into the seat and when the cart bumped over a fallen branch that Steve didn’t bother to avoid, the jostle of it made your thigh bump into his. He grasped at your knee as an apology of sort, murmuring something you couldn’t hear over the wind, but his palm engulfed your bare knee once more and fuck, fuck, you couldn’t think of anything else. His gold ring looked pretty against your skin, his tanned hand complimenting the dough of your thigh nicely and you tried to remember how to talk. 

“Is there something you needed my help with at the lake, Mr Harrington?” You didn’t think Steve needed any help on how to work speed boats or jet skis, but still, you weren’t sure what else to say. 

Steve laughed again, a pretty sound that made your toes curl and he slowed the cart to a stop at a shaded area along the shore, far enough away from the sandy embankment that the men on the lake in their fishing boats wouldn’t be able to see you. “C’mon now, I thought you were a smart thing,” Steve pouted at you as he turned off the cart's engine. His hand left your leg and you mourned the loss of it, heart jumping again when his hand curled around the back of your seat instead. “What did I tell you to call me?”

Your chest warmed like you were back in middle school, getting scolded by a teacher who you didn’t want to disappoint. It bloomed across your neck and face, only getting hotter as the entire sensation of it made you squeeze your clasped hands between your thighs. Steve’s gaze dropped to your lap, a quick glance down that made the corners of his lips curve up. 

“Steve,” you said quietly, sounding shy, reserved. Your body was giving away too much, you couldn’t let your voice join in. 

Steve nodded and the hand that was resting against your seat moved a little, brushing against your sweater until he could rub a thumb against your shoulder blade. “See, she’s a smart girl after all, isn’t she?”

You could only nod. What the fuck was going on? Hidden by the trees, on the edge of the water that was across from where you usually spent weekday afternoons. You could see The Lake House from here, could practically feel Frederick’s gaze out of the bay windows, boring a hole into the middle of your forehead as you sat with one of the most affluent clients on the rolodex. Steve Harrington had his arm around your back, his eyes on your bare thighs, his other hand ghosting along the hem of your skirt. He pulled at it, bringing it down the mere centimetre it had ridden up, knuckles skimming your too hot skin. 

He didn’t look away from it when he asked you: “And if you are a clever, little thing, d’you know why I brought you here?”

If it had been dark, if it had been closer to night, if the grounds had been empty and the lake was still, maybe you would’ve felt more scared than you were. If it had been anyone else, maybe you would have been sitting there in the shadow of the trees and cursing yourself out for being so stupid. Going with this boy - this man - letting him take you off alone and away from prying eyes, letting him touch your leg and get too close. It was stupid, wasn’t it? Despite what Steve said, this wasn’t smart, was it?

But you found that you didn’t care. You really didn’t fucking care. Not one bit. 

You shrugged, cheeks warm, too wary to say anything out of turn, too cautious to say anything too bold for fear of losing your job. Or worse, being rejected. 

Steve pouted. “No?” He tutted and sighed, a dramatic sounding thing and he let his hand fell back onto your leg, higher this time. You held your breath as he skimmed his palm upupup until his fingertips disappeared under the hem of your skirt that he’d just pulled down for you. “Well, I wanted to personally invite you the poker game with me tomorrow night. You know the one, don’t you? It’s in the lounge, nine o’clock.”

You tried to steady your breathing, exhaling sharply from your nose as Steve’s fingers wandered, never going higher, going slow and soft enough that you could slap his hand away if you wanted to. You didn’t. “I’m working that shift,” you whispered. 

His eyes met yours, his grin blinding. “Good, you’ll be there then.”

“Working,” you reminded him, the last syllable of the word hitching in your mouth as his fingers passed over your leg once more. You felt the cool metal of his gold band on the inside of your thigh. “I’ll be there to work.”

Steve nodded, like he understood, like he wasn’t planning to monopolise every minute of your shift, wondering how long he could keep you by his side at the poker table before you got too worried and scrambled back to the bar. “Of course.” He pulled back a little, his nose too close to brushing yours as you couldn’t help but lean in too, head tilted up to his like you did it all the time. “And then after that,” he took his hand from your thigh and you tried not to cry about it, ‘cause he used the back of his hand to push your hair away from your face instead. “You could come back to mine?”

 Oh, fuck. You couldn’t help the smile that fluttered across your face, the giddy, shy laugh that followed. You were flustered and it showed, and as much as it made Steve smile back, it made him hard as a fucking rock. 

“Shit, uh, god, sorry,” you shook your head, as if to clear it. You felt fuzzy, hazy, under Steve’s spell as he kept smiling at you, clearly entertained by your flushed face, your dazed expression. “I’m really not supposed to do that.”

You didn’t say no, Steve noted. You didn’t say that you didn’t want to. In fact, from the way your eyes dropped to his lips over and over again, Steve was pretty sure he could seal this deal with you faster than his last visit meeting with that winery in Sorrento. 

That wasn’t to say you were easy, no. Just real fucking cute. He had a forty percent share in that vineyard and soon enough, he’d have you too. 

“What?” He played dumb, all syrupy sweet smiles and his voice all soft. He traced a circle around your knee. “You can’t see me out of work? Surely Fredrick isn’t that much of a tyrant, honey.”

You squirmed under his gaze, the one that made you feel like he was undressing you. You were too warm and his innocent fingertips on your knee were making you wanna drag his hand back up your thigh and underneath the hem of your skirt. “We’re not supposed to involve ourselves with club members.” Your words felt dull in your mouth, heavy and cotton like. 

Pointless. 

Steve pouted, lips pursing like he was trying to get you to kiss him. He tutted; his warm, wide palm curling around your thigh again. He squeezed gently and your mouth fell open, panting, an invitation. “What if I want to be involved with you, hm? What then, honey?”

You let your head fall back a little, lips wet and parted, eyes closing briefly, because Steve let his fingers slide up a little further, the tips of his middle and pointer finger brushing, just fucking barely, across the cotton of your underwear. You knew you were wet and you knew that he did too. How could he not? The damp fabric dragged across his digits and you saw the realisation in his eyes, that flash of heat, that curl of his lips that made his smile a smirk. 

“Remember what I told you?” He let his lips fall into ‘o’ at your small noise, an almost whine that sounded blissed out. God, he could have fun with you. “Do you? C’mon smart girl, what do I always get?”

You blinked at him, sucking in a breath as you fought the urge to grind down on his hand. Steve took his fingers away, the damp tips of them trailing back down the inside of your thigh as he waited for an answer. 

“You told me,” you took another breath, looking around quickly, burning at the sight of the boats on the lake, the blurry people across the water by the clubhouse, sitting outside for afternoon tea. “You told me you always get what you want.” 

That was the third time you met Steve Harrington. 

Don't blame me, love made me crazy

The night after, you’d spent too long getting ready for your shift. Too long in the shower, letting the steam fill the tiny room, honey and peach scented body wash running in rivers down your bare skin, your razor chasing after it as you did your best to make every crevice of your body silky smooth. 

You told yourself you weren’t going home with Steve Harrington. You told yourself you couldn’t, that you weren’t allowed to. 

But you took the time to layer mascara on your lashes, fixing any smudges before finishing your makeup with a layer of gloss on your lips, tinted a rosy pink and drawing more attention to them than you’d usually want. Black dress, clubhouse mandated stockings and heels, freshly polished. You left for work with your heart in the back of your throat. 

The Lake House was quieter than usual on poker nights, mostly because each guest had to buy their way in. All players had to place a ten thousand dollar deal in with the croupier, pockets emptied and jackets checked at the door. It made the smoking lounge feel bigger, men seated around a large poker table, the dealer in the middle, chips stacked high and cigar smoke lingering in the air. It smelled like tobacco, leather, expensive cologne and money, and god, the tips were good. 

There were familiar faces around the table, Billy, Jonathan, Mr Donaldson, a few other men from the club that liked to order expensive drinks and call you things like ‘sweet cheeks’ and ‘sugar.’ The room was dimly lit, a soft amber glow that was kept in the room with closed drapes, velvet lined chairs, and bar staff that were trained not to speak unless spoken to. Everything was hushed and whispered, men talking money over glasses of liquor, cigars in one hand, their dealt hand in the other. 

Then there was Steve, coming into the room a little late with another suit on, sharp and with a matching black shirt underneath, looking like he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t look at you as he took his seat, smirking at something Jonathan said and sliding a wad of stacked bills towards the dealer. He got his chips, he got his cards and the game began. 

It took a whole twenty minutes before he raised his hand, a two finger salute that let you know he wanted a drink. You beat the other waitress to it, slipping in front of the new start - Vickie something - and your heels clicked as you made your way over to Steve. You already had a drink on your tray, poured the minute you saw his hand go up, his eyes still on his hand. 

A Macallan, no ice. 

You placed the tumbler on the table in front of him, knees bending slightly to make sure it didn’t spill. Without warning, Steve’s hand snuck along the back of your thigh as you placed your tray under your arm, ready to walk away. Fingertips traced over the crease of your knee, ghosting over your stocking. You watched his gaze flicker to the drink he didn’t have to ask for, a slight curve to the corners of his lips as he smiled his approval. He leaned back, head tipped up to you so you had to bend down slightly to meet him. His hand was slipping up the back of your thigh the whole time, hidden from the rest of the room, from the other players, your boss in the corner. 

You bent at the waist, feeling your skirt rise up, feeling Steve’s hand do the same. His thumb ran along the crease below your ass, over the sliver of bare skin between your underwear and stockings. 

“Smart girl,” he whispered in the shell of your ear, making you burn. His voice was low and a little rough from hardly talking, only communicating with nods to the croupier, dead face glances at his opponents. His chips were stacked high for his efforts. “You look pretty. How ‘bout you just stay beside me, yeah?”

You weren’t supposed to. But you did. You watched as your boss frowned, as Vickie looked surprised. Beside Steve, Jonathan snickered quietly and across the table, Billy narrowed his eyes. 

“Breakin’ some rules?” He mouthed to Steve. 

Steve ignored him.

The night came to an end close to one o’clock, once the bar was almost dry and Steve had most of the money. He accepted the passive remarks about his poker face, his ability to lie through his damn teeth, how he didn’t need all that money anyways. Then there were the handshakes and slaps on the back, good natured talks and invites to lunches, chats about business opportunities and stocks. And all the while you tidied, putting away empty bottles of thousand dollar whisky, pouring hundred dollar glasses of Malbec down the drain. Cigar ash on the table, white powder tipped dollar notes that everyone pretended to not notice. Heavy tips on the table top, damp from spilled drinks, pushed into your apron pocket while the men around you tried to get a peek up your skirt. 

And then Steve was leaning over the bar top and still ignoring Billy. He was watching you clean, eyes tracking the way your hands slid the cloth over the mahogany, and while your cheeks warmed at his attention, you let him. You were off the clock, your shift over. Bar closed. 

Home time. Maybe. 

“—you even listenin’ to me, Harrington?” Billy sounded annoyed, words twisting on his tongue, whisky making them come out a little slower than he wanted them to. 

“No.” Steve’s reply was short and bored sounding. 

“I said, you fucker, that I need a ride. S’posed to be on a goddamn flight at five o’clock and this fuckin’ tequila is makin’ me piss like a fuckin’ racehor—”

Steve didn’t take his eyes off of you as he took his wallet from inside of his suit jacket pocket. Using two fingers, he offered Billy a fifty, holding the bill in front of the other man’s face. “Take a cab.”

Billy looked offended at the suggestion. Disgusted, actually. “A cab? What do I look like to you, huh? Huh? A fuckin’ peasant?”

Steve just shrugged and slapped the bill on the counter anyway. “I’m having company,” he told him. Then he drained the rest of the one drink he’d ordered from you all night and met your gaze straight on. “You ready?”

Not, ‘would you like to join me?’ Not, ‘would you like to come back to mine?’ No. Just a simple question. ‘Are you ready to go?’

You nodded. Yes, you were ready. 

Billy laughed, a sharp and mean thing as he looked between you and Steve. Then his gaze turned salacious, drunk and lazy as he took in your short dress, your shiny lips. He nudged Steve and nodded towards you. “You not sharing this time, Harrington?” He tutted. “What a shame.”

You didn’t know what to say. If you’d been at a bar in town, standing on either side of it, you’d have listened to the twitch in your hand and lifted it, letting your palm meet Billy Hargrove’s right cheek, regardless of how much money was in his wallet. But Frederick was by the door talking to Mr Donaldson about summers in the Bahamas and you couldn’t do shit. 

So you turned your back, polished another wine glass and slid it back onto its shelf. 

“You know,” you heard Steve murmur. His voice was low, controlled. Dangerous sounding. “You keep letting your mouth run like that, and I’ll make sure you don’t have a reason to get that five am flight. One call and there won’t be no fucking meeting in L.A, do you understand?”

You didn’t hear Billy’s reply. In fact, you weren’t sure there was one. Instead, Steve walked to the side of the bar and brushed some invisible lint off of his jacket as he waited for you to untie your apron. You hesitated, watching as Fredrick disappeared into his office and then, and only then, did you step out from behind the bar to join Steve, letting him place his hand on the small of your back and guide you out of the clubhouse. 

He made it too easy to break the biggest rule in the book. 

—————

Steve drove you to a townhouse on the edge of town, the opposite direction from your own home. He took you there in his BMW, a shiny maroon car that looked brand new, with leather seats and shiny detailing on the dash. He didn’t touch you in the car, he just opened the door for you to get in and get out, only offering a hand that you took as you stood on his driveway. 

His house was lit up by lights on either side of the huge garage, another by the double doors. Three floors, a water feature in the front yard, a security system at the entrance. Steve pressed some buttons before something buzzed and clicked, and he opened the door with no grand flourish, extending an arm for you to enter first. 

Everything was sleek and polished, not quite the bachelor pad you expected, but luxurious all the same. Wooden floors and a large fireplace in the living room, the leather and suede of the clubhouse swapped out for a huge sectional, covered in cushions and throws. There was art on the walls, scenes of Greek tragedies, half naked women with dreamy looks on their faces, full curves and thick thighs. A shiny kitchen that looked barely used, bottles of scotch and whisky and gin on a golden bar cart in the corner, a full wall of books surrounding the biggest television you’d seen. The house smelled like Steve, like his cologne, like new leather and oak. 

His footsteps echoed across the room as he strolled into the kitchen, an open plan thing that let you watch him from where you stood by the front door. Steve held up a bottle of wine. Red, a label you recognised from work, something that Frederick charged far too much money for. In your opinion. 

“Drink?” Steve asked. 

You nodded, stepping into the room a little more. There were a few lamps on, a warm flow from each that cast shadows over the floor, up the walls. The curtains were closed, heavy drapes that kept out the night, kept in the secrets. Like you. 

Steve appeared at your side, passing you a glass filled with a little ruby coloured wine. He grinned at your quiet thanks and offered his own for a toast. The glasses clinked and you took a sip, dark cherries and bitter chocolate swirling your senses, or at least, you were sure they would’ve if you hadn’t decided to gulp it down. Steve laughed softly and took your empty glass, setting it on the coffee table with his own. There was a stack of big books in the middle of it, something about American architecture and cars of the sixties, a candle that had never been lit and a cigar box with his initials engraved on the lid. 

“Here, sit,” Steve suggested and you sank into the sofa with him. The boy immediately lounged back into the cushions, arms stretched out over the back of it as he appraised you, head tilted to his side. “You don’t do this often, huh?”

You turned to him, puzzled, your hands sliding nervously up and down your bare legs. Your dress suddenly felt shorter than ever and with the way Steve was looking at you - hungry, predatory, bold - you weren’t sure if you wanted to tug the hem down to your knees or take the full thing off and drop it at his feet. 

“Do what?”

Steve gestured to himself, to the huge living room you felt a little bit lost in. He smirked, “go home with guys you barely know.”

You swallowed thickly, wondering if it would seem rude if you reached out and stole the rest of his wine. If you’d feel braver and bolder if you were to gulp down more Malbec, if the price tag on the bottle would feel better on your tongue. “Not usually,” you said. You left out the part about how you’d be fired on the spot if your boss found out who you were going home with. 

Steve smiled, eyes shining at you like he thought you were cute. He patted the space on the couch beside him. It felt like a million miles away from you. “Come over here,” he said softly. You noticed how he didn’t ask, or suggest. It was an order, as gentle as it was. “I won’t bite.”

You scoffed a little, enjoying the irony of his words despite how he’d looked at you all night, like he wanted to sink his teeth into you, like he wanted to just eat you up. “You won’t?” You asked him, doubtful, even as you slid closer, your thigh brushing his. 

Steve dropped his hand to your knee, fingertips barely brushing your skin as she skimmed up and down, up and down. Each pass got him closer to the hem of your dress and you thought back to yesterday, in that stupid golf cart by the edge of the lake. How easy you made it for him, head thrown back, chest heaving, legs spread. You wanted that again, the feeling of his teasing fingers brushing up against the front of your underwear, lace this time, and already damp. 

Steve flashed a grin, all teeth, more bite than a smile and you resisted the urge to clamp your thighs together, trapping his hand between. You’d never been this hot for a guy, never been this easy to fold. You felt delicate with Steve, ready to crumple, ready to fold. 

“Not on the first date, no,” he assured you. 

Your brows rose into your hairline. “This is a date?”

Steve flattened his palm against your thigh and squeezed, leaning into you, nose brushing your cheek until you ripped your head for him and it skimmed the line of your jaw. Your breathing changed too quickly, stuttering to a hitch until it picked up, your eyes closing as you felt Steve’s lips brush against you in the briefest of touches. It wasn’t even a kiss. 

“What did you think it was?” Steve whispered, his words hot against your neck. You could smell his cologne, rich and peppery, could feel the slight stubble on his jaw scrape against your throat and you were desperate now, you needed him to kiss you. “What did you think I invited you here for, honey?”

His hand was higher now, fingers under the hem of your dress and you wanted to fall into him, you wanted to crawl into his lap and spread your legs, get properly dirty for him and pull your dress up around your hips and show him how you liked to be touched. Although, you had a feeling he wouldn’t need much help. “I, I don’t know—” you interrupted yourself with a gasp, Steve’s fingertips running along the lace edge of your underwear, teasing the crease of your thigh. “A one night stand, maybe.”

The boy laughed, a soft noise that was buried in the crook of your neck and he finally, finally, put his mouth on you. He kissed sweetly at the spot under your ear, grinned against it when you squirmed at the feel of him and then dragged his parted lips down the column of your neck. You felt the tip of his tongue, a tiny touch, teasing, warm and wet. 

“Just one night?” Steve tutted, letting his fingers slip underneath the edge  of your underwear. You were an elastic band now, pulled too right, fraught with unspent energy, ready to snap at the tension. “What if I wanted to keep you, hm?” His fingers ghosted over your folds, already slick and wet for him. If he was affected by it, he didn’t show it. He pulled at you gently, spreading you for him, a single digit touching your needy clit as he kept you open. It was filthy. “You’re too pretty for one night, aren’t you?”

You didn’t know what you were agreeing to, but you nodded anyway. You were sure you already looked wrecked, head slack and leaning against Steve’s shoulder, his lips now dotting over your hairline. Legs open, underwear pushed up and to the side by Steve’s hand, his one finger sliding up and down the seam of your cunt. The rubber band was getting tighter. 

Steve hummed, a deep, warm noise that rumbled in his chest. “Look at me, honey,” he ordered and you did as were told, eyes heavy and haze unfocused as you turned your head to face him. He was so close, the only evidence he was as turned on as you were, were his blown out pupils, his heavy eyelids. “There she is, oh sweetheart, you’re gone, huh?” he cooed. 

You thought he might kiss you then, you thought he might kiss you, finally. But he nuzzled his nose against yours - a surprisingly sweet thing - before he murmured, “take your clothes off for me.”

It was embarrassing, the way your lips parted and your cheeks went hot. You wondered if Steve felt it, the warmth that exploded from your skin at his words, the way your empty cunt clenched around nothing at his words. He gave you clit one more passing nudge before he moved his hands from you completely and sank back into the couch. One arm over the back of it, legs crossed, the other hand brought to his mouth so he could rub the finger he’d dipped along your pussy against his bottom lip. 

It was obscene. 

He nodded to the space between the sofa and the coffee table and licked his lips. “C’mon, honey, strip.”

You should’ve pulled down your dress and thrown what was left of his wine in his face before you slammed the door on your way out. This man, this rich boy with his big house and shiny car, was ordering you around like you were still at the clubhouse. Like he could flash his members only card and get what he wanted. He hadn’t even kissed you. He didn’t know your last name, and shit, the only reason you knew his, was because him and his family were at the top of the client list at the place you worked. 

You could lose your job over this. Worse, you could get your heart broken. 

Steve must’ve sensed your hesitation because he reached back over to brush your hair from your eyes, where it had fallen in a mess when you hid your face in the dip of his shoulder as he tapped at your clit again and again and again. He pouted, tsked in a way that sounded sympathetic. “Oh honey, are you shy?” Condescension dripped from him, words liquid gold, sticky sweet and trapping you. He ran the back of his knuckles down your cheek, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip. It was as close to a kiss as you would get. “It’s okay, hm? Am I not playing nice? Am I being rude?”

You didn’t know what to say. You were being sucked in by this man’s charm, his caramel coated words, the way his brown eyes turned soft as he took your hand and led you to stand up in the middle of his living room. “I’m sorry, honey,” Steve whispered. “How awful of me. Lemme try again, huh?” He kissed your cheek, a soft, lingering thing before he left you standing, sitting back in front of you once more. 

Steve pushed back his hair and let his eyes appraise you before he rolled his shirt sleeves up and leant back into the cushions. A king on his throne. And the entertainment for tonight? 

You. 

“Take your clothes off for me, honey,” he tried again, his voice softer this time, lower, dirtier. And then he smiled at you and added: “please.”

With shaking hands and a held breath that made your chest burn, you pulled the material down your shoulders, reaching around your back to tug at the zip. And when it fell open, exposing your skin to the warm air, it was too easy to let the entire dress fall down over your hips. It pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it, heels still on, legs covered in the sheer black stockings that the clubhouse made mandatory for poker nights. 

Steve’s lips made a little ‘o’ shape, an appreciative thing that made you pulse with need. You saw then how his dress trousers were tented at the front, an impressive bulge that twitched when you smoothed your hands over your upper thighs, a nervous reaction to being so exposed. 

“Oh,” Steve exhaled as he let his eyes rake over you. Soft skin between black lace, thigh highs pulled taught against your curves, tits pressed up in a bra you’d chosen as you thought him. You hoped he wouldn’t embarrass you, you hoped he wouldn’t ask you to do something like spin for him, show off for him. Because you would’ve. “Aren’t you a pretty fucking picture.”

He didn’t need to talk after that. He just lifted his chin towards your chest and you were pulling off your bra for him. You hated how the control of it all made you wetter, the space between your legs fucking throbbing as you waited for your next instruction. “Unless you want those ripped,” Steve was gazing at your underwear, eyes seeking out every dip and line he could make our in the wet lace. “I’d take them off too.” He didn’t let them hit the floor with the rest of your clothes, instead, extending one hand and crooking his fingers. 

A silent, ‘give them to me.’ 

And you did, watching as he slipped them into his trouser pockets, keeping his eyes on you, trailing them over your thighs that were slick with how wet he’d got you. He’d hardly touched you, you scolded yourself, not even a kiss. It was embarrassing, mortifying. It was the hottest thing that had happened to you. 

“Keep those on,” Steve murmured, talking about your heels and stockings. “And come sit back down for me, honey, yeah?” 

The fabric of the couch felt soft under your bare skin and you hesitated before you let yourself relax into it. There surely would be a wet spot underneath you, evidence of how turned on you were, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. 

“That’s it,” he encouraged softly. “Get comfy, hm? Such an agreeable, little thing aren’t you?” Steve was sliding off the couch as he spoke, one palm pressed to his crotch as if to stave off some of his own need. He knelt in front of you, mouth parting in a sigh as he dropped to eye level with your cunt. “Think you can spread those legs for me? Let me see you, honey, there’s a girl—”

He cut himself off with a low groan as you brought your feet up, heels on the edge of the couch as you spread your knees, sticky thighs parting. He could see all of you, fuck, he could probably smell you. The low light made every part of you glisten, the heavy rise and fall of your chest cast in an amber glow.  

“Oh she’s real fuckin’ pretty, isn’t she?” Steve asked you, eyes tearing away from your pussy to look up at you. “Spread ‘em wider for me, baby, can you do that?” Another moan from the boy as you let your knees fall apart, almost touching the couch. Steve smoothed his hands up your tights, bracketing your cunt before he did the same as before and pulled your folds even further apart. “Look at that,” he whispered. 

You couldn’t. You let your head fall back onto the cushion, eyes squeezed shut as you let your own hands fall onto your knees. You dug in your nails, crescent moon marks on your skin as your tried to keep a grip on reality. You were almost certain you’d come with just one touch. 

“Want my mouth?” Steve asked you and his voice was back to that sugar sweet drip, it was thick with an affection, like he was being so nice for taking care of you. You already wanted to thank him. “Want my tongue?”

His thumbs rubbed up and down your folds, keeping them spread apart, a dirty massage that made your clit pulse with each tiny movement. You nodded, letting out a uneven breath and Steve tutted. 

“You gotta look at me then, c’mon, Berkeley.” He nipped at your thigh, teeth biting at the skin and it made you cry out. “Look at me and tell me you want me to eat you out.”

Dirty, filthy, obscene, sinful. 

You were under no illusion that giving Steve an order made you the one in charge. He played you like a puppet, a boneless girl that wanted nothing more than to come all over this rich strangers sofa. You had a one track mind, no shame left, not when Steve was pressing his mouth over you folds, not licking into you, not yet. Just kissing. You wanted to cry. 

“Eat me out,” you begged, eyes glassy as you tried to lift your hips but Steve pulled away. He grinned at you, waiting. “Eat me out, please, Steve. Fuck, want your mouth yeah, please?”

“Where?” He asked, dragging it out. His voice was unholy. “Where do you want my mouth?” His thumbs were still moving, up and down and up and down. “Tell me.”

“My pussy, Jesus Christ,” you whined. You couldn’t ever remember being this pent up. “Please.”

“Oh,” Steve cooed, “she’s so polite.” And then he gave you no other warning, dipping his head so he could lick a stripe through your folds, the hot, wet contact of his tongue making you cry out. 

You were unraveling too fast. His thumbs had you taught for him, every part of you feeling his tongue, his lips. Steve groaned into you, a happy, pleased hum that told you whatever game this was, he’d won. He kept his tongue flat, slow, broad strokes of it going from your entrance to your clit until you were curling over him and clutching his hair, doing your best to not suffocate him. But Steve moaned louder and moved his hands to your hips, sliding down until they cupped under your ass and he encouraged you to grind against his face. Tongue still out, kept flat for you to rock yourself on. It was pornographic.  

Then Steve was mumbling into you, voice a rasp. “Good girl, honey, that’s it. Keep going, make yourself come on my tongue, yeah?”

So you did, obedient as ever, letting out a gasping cry as your legs shook, cunt still clenching around nothing ‘cause Steve had broken you with just his mouth. It was dirty hot, the way he dragged himself from your sensitive slit, tongue running over your folds even as you whined, licking over the crease of your thighs to get everything you’d spilled for him. You watched as he appeared between your knees, hair tousled, lips and chin shining in the low light, his cheeks flushed. It was ironic, how he looked more boyish after he made you come, expensive black shirt creased from where your legs had pressed against him, his own gaze a little fucked out. 

Logic would suggest that perhaps you’d get a kiss then, something soft and sweet to soothe you down before he fucked you senseless, before you got to wrap your own fingers or lips around him. Steve looked big, if the solid press of him against his trousers was anything to go by. Thick and still rock hard, an easy eight inches trapped taught against his thigh, just as impressive as his wealth and status. Your mouth watered. 

He kissed the inside of your knee instead, his heavy lidded gaze on yours before he offered you his hands to help you sit up and then said, “I better get you home.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Home,” Steve repeated. He passed you back your bra, your dress. Not your underwear though, no. They were still in his pocket. “I gotta be at the airport in—” he checked his watch, the picture of blasé. “—an hour.”

You pulled on your dress, a little speechless. This boy had just made you come harder than you’d ever managed yourself and now he was busying himself with lighting a cigarette he pulled from the packet in his pocket. Your eyes wandered, he was still hard. 

“What about,” you licked your lips, suddenly shy. You nodded towards his crotch, the absolute monster he packed in his slacks. “What about you?”

Steve grinned, bending down to peck your cheek as you wriggled into your uniform, trying to pull yourself back together. “I’ll live,” he told you, blowing out smoke as he spoke. “We’ll call it an IOU, huh? But my plane leaves soon, honey. I’ll cash that favour when I’m back.”

“When?” You blurted out. It sounded like something a girlfriend would demand to know and you cringed, but Steve kept smirking. He helped you slip on your heels, cigarette hanging from his lips that definitely tasted like you. 

“Unsure,” he told you casually, “there’s things I need to wrap up in Monaco before I can go to Tuscany for a few weeks. There’s problems at the vineyard and there’s a new plot I want to look at in Alassio too.”

All you heard was money money money. So you nodded and gave him a small smile, legs still a little wobbly from his touch, his mouth, his tongue. And when Steve dropped you off at the door of your too small apartment, he took your chin between his finger and thumb and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your jaw, just below your ear. 

The kiss goodnight to your lips didn’t come. You felt confused, a little stilted. But you got out the BMW and waved goodbye, wondering what you were supposed to do at three in the morning after Steve Harrington had tumbled your world upside down. 

PART TWO

[lexluvsmegs]

Bet you could do better…

[Choso Kamo x fem!reader]

Synopsis ౨ৎ - After a recent break up, you search for comfort in the form of your long term best friend Choso. But what happens when he finds out the reason you weren’t all that into your ex is because he couldn’t make you finish?

Warnings ౨ৎ - smut ⭒ oral (f receiving) ⭒ Choso is basically so in love with you ⭒ dry humping ⭒ Choso cums untouched ⭒ a lil bit of fingering

Word count ౨ৎ - 1583

(18+ please if you’re a minor do not interact!)

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You weren’t upset, per se, however you did find yourself fed up with the lack of manors in which men possess. You’re sat on your sofa, glass of wine in hand and your handsome friend to your left. You had known Choso for quite some time now. He was extremely shy in the earlier stages of your friendship: flushing at any physical contact, stuttering over his words when you asked any questions, his voice ever so breathless during late night calls… But he had grown since then - well, except for the last point - and found himself to be more comfortable and open in your presence. You could even call him your best friend.

So who better to call than said best friend when you’re down in the dumps over your most recent break up. You had always been open with Choso with almost every aspect of your life. Except one. You see, ever since you met Choso you’ve harboured a small crush on the man. Can you really blame yourself? However, you made a promise that you wouldn’t do anything to ruin the beautiful bond created between the two of you. So that was that.

You decided to invite Choso round for a drink. Of course Choso was down, and so here he is now, sat on your sofa nursing a beer in one hand and fiddling the string of his sweatpants with the other. He wasn’t wearing anything extravagant, but the compression shirt he was sporting did little to hide his mouth watering muscles. You’re surprised you didn’t jump his dick when he walked in. You had some serious self restraint.

Choso makes a humming noise, breaking the silence, as he turns to you, asking if you want a refill of your wine. You shake your impure thoughts and gladly accept, scooting closer to his figure feeling the warmth radiate off of him. “So.. how you feeling?” He asks apprehensively. You appreciate his concern but aren’t too sure you want to remember the man who you foolishly went out with. “Fine. Don’t even know why I gave him a chance” you laugh slightly, feeling the ever so familiar tipsy side effects of your drink. Choso stared at you, almost in a trance, as if he was deep in thought. He gives you a look you can’t quite decipher. “Why do you say that? I thought you found him attractive?” You take another sip then turn to face him. “He couldn’t satisfy me” it was blunt. Blunt enough to cause a deep red to coat the tips of Choso’s pierced ears at the sexual implication.

He clears his throat. Was that too much? But before your thoughts can spiral, he takes a quick glance down to your lips before returning his gaze to your own and replies “oh yeah? In what way?” His voice was low and shaky, unsure of the words coming from his mouth. The eye contact you’re both holding is intense, it causes you to subtly rub your legs together for any sort of relief. “Uh, he couldn’t make me finish” you finally choke out after the initial shock of his boldness wore off. The tension was thick. You knew he could feel it too as you saw him subtly shift his free hand to hide his crotch. Oh. You swallowed thickly. Could Choso really see you that way? You can only hope. You drag your sight away from his lap and back to meet his own, already staring at you like you were the only person to ever exist. Choso always looked at you like you were fine art, but this time it felt slightly different.

You don’t know what came over you. You were trying to fill the silence you swear but the alcohol really messed you up when you blurted out “I bet you could make me finish” it was a whisper but still loud enough for Choso to hear every word. Fuck, you’ve definitely taken it too far now. You open your mouth to apologise, but Choso cuts you off with a short“Please.”You didn’t have to wonder what he was begging for for long as he soon follows up with “Please, let me make you finish.” He looks so pathetic pleading like this and it makes you so unbelievably wet. You don’t offer a reply as you place your drink down and grab his face, pulling him down to meet you in a desperate kiss. He follows suit in hastily planting his drink down on the nearest surface and grabs your hips returning the same heat to the kiss. You open your mouth granting him access as he slips his tongue inside, tasting the bitter wine left behind.

You’re getting handsy, throwing a leg over to straddle Choso, hands moving to grip his hair as he lets out an angelic whine. God, you can’t get enough of this man. He starts bucking his hips up as you feel the outline of his cock rutting against your clothed cunt. You soon break apart from the kiss both parties moaning at the stimulation. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long. Y’dont know how many nights I’ve fantasised about this very moment” it comes out rushed, but fuck, that turned you on even more. Choso got off to you. Pride swells in your chest at the realisation and you decide to reward him by licking and sucking your way down his neck, making sure to focus on the one spot that caught his breath.

“P-please take this off, wanna see those pretty tits” who knew Choso had such a dirty mouth. You follow his request, bringing the top above your head and shimmying out of your shorts. He’s in awe, basically drooling at the sight of your plush breasts. You giggle at his reaction. “Now you’ve gotta take stuff off. Only fair” you tease his already flustered self as he scrambles to get fully undressed. He’s beautiful. Sculpted by the gods. His abs are so defined, making you want to ride them, and his pecs are big enough to bite. Now the only thing separating your wet cunt from his throbbing cock is the thin fabric of your panties. Your wetness is seeping through causing a slick sound to form as you grind down on his now bare dick.

Choso fumbles to remove your bra and watches as your tits fall free from the restraint. He wastes no time in taking one of your nipples into his mouth sucking at it as if he expects milk to pour out. This has you moaning and squirming as you drag your nails down his chest causing marks to form. He soon removes his mouth and replaces it with his fingers to keep the stimulation as he pants a “can I eat you out?” the pleasure has you speechless as you can only manage a nod at his request. He lays you down on your back, your limbs splayed lazily over the span of the couch. You’re impatiently awaiting Choso’s next move as he watches over you, he finally removes your panties and stares in awe at the view in front of him. “You are so beautiful” his words make you flush. “J-just hurry up” you reply, slightly embarrassed at your exposure. He lays down, coming face to face with your glistening cunt as he continues to mumble about how lucky he is and how pretty you are. When he finally takes an experimental lick you both let out desperate moans. “God, you taste so good. So sweet f’me” he spreads you open with both hands and takes your clit between his lips, sloppily lapping at your pussy causing you to clamp your legs around his head. Fuck, does he eat pussy like a champ. He’s got you squirming from the intense pleasure, his tongue teasing your entrance before going back towards your clit.

Choso can’t control himself, the sight before him is too hot to handle. He slowly starts to grind his dick against the fabric of your sofa. It’s so messy with the pre-cum spilling from his cock. He’s just as messy though, moaning shamelessly into your pretty, wet cunt with your juices all over his face as he chases his own release. It’s all getting too much as you grab onto Choso’s hair for dear life, practically humping his face, his nose bumping your clit. He can’t get enough of your taste, he think he may have just become an addict as nothing sweet could ever compare to the taste of you. Choso’s whines get more desperate and so do yours. “Fuck! Choso, gonna make me cum.” A pornographic moan leaves him at this statement, showing he was the same. Choso suddenly adds a finger, curling it up to hit the spot that made your toes curl. That was your breaking point as your orgasm came crashing down. However, Choso didn’t stop, lapping up your release as he finally comes to his own panting like a needy dog.

You both take some time to calm down from your highs and soon find yourself sat back on Choso’s lap. “Guess I was right then” you smirk, kissing him as a form of gratitude. He looks so cute like this, so fucked out and you’ve not even touched him properly. “Now it’s my turn to return the favour” you say with a giggle as you slowly make your own way down.

It’s gonna be a long night.

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© lexluvsmegs 2024 ➳ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

PLEASE DO NOT Copy, Translate, Re-Upload, or Steal ANY of my work.

Thank You, Beautiful People!

[thedensworld]

Stupid Cupid | K.Mg

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader

Genre: fluff, love at first sight

Summary: You must be the reason why he's been nervous for tonight's event. There must be something that Cupid has been doing.

Author note: Happy birthday to the charming man, Kim Mingyu! You deserve the world, and I can't wait to see your amazing work and improvements in the future. Thanks to your mother for raising such a gentleman and kind son. Thank you for being born and setting such high standards for men. I can't stop falling in love with you. Every girl needs man like you mingooooooos🥰

Mingyu raised his hand and placed it on his chest, exhaling deeply, which caught the attention of his diligent manager who was navigating them to the venue. Despite Mingyu's seasoned experience with fashion events on an international level, his heart seemed to thump twice as fast for this particular occasion.

"You nervous?!" His manager's surprised tone rang out, to which Mingyu could only chuckle, adjusting his suit and shirt sleeves.

Mingyu shot his manager a look via the rearview mirror that said, "Don't ask me that question. Because I am, and I'm trying hard to pretend I'm not."

Closing his eyes, Mingyu silently thanked his manager when he switched the playlist to a more calming one, silently praying that his heart would follow suit and calm down too.

Once Mingyu entered the event, nothing particularly eventful occurred besides the incessant flashlights popping here and there as he made his way into the venue. Guided by professionals, much like previous events he'd attended, Mingyu found himself experiencing the same routine. Yet, despite the familiarity, his heart continued to pound.

"Mingyu, can we take a photo?" a voice interrupted his tour of the venue, and Mingyu nodded, obliging the request before taking a moment to rest and engage with other guests.

Offering his best smile, Mingyu's attention suddenly shifted as he noticed a figure in a stunning red wine bodycon dress making her way towards him. Though the person thanked Mingyu, he found himself momentarily speechless, captivated by her confidence and the radiant smile she shared while conversing with the director.

"This is Kim Mingyu, you might already know him," the director said, introducing Mingyu to you.

Suddenly, Mingyu felt like he was malfunctioning, barely able to raise his hand to accept the handshake as the world seemed to slow down. His focus was stolen away by your face, your eyes, and the charming sound of your voice as you introduced yourself. He knew you, but he hadn't realized just how attractive you were.

"Y/n and I worked together while she was filming her last movie," the director continued.

Mingyu barely heard the director's words, offering only nods as his senses were consumed by your presence. You looked breathtaking in person, and he didn't mean that you were unphotogenic.

"Yeah... I shot an ad with Seungcheol, Mingyu's member," you added.

Mingyu cursed Seungcheol in his head for gatekeeping you from him all this time.

"I'll let you two talk, I have to go," the director said, excusing himself.

Mingyu and you bowed to the director before facing each other awkwardly. Mingyu couldn't believe this was happening; he felt foolish for acting so awkwardly in front of a girl. He always knew how to handle himself in front of fans, but now he was frozen.

"Seungcheol talked a lot about you," you said, breaking the silence and starting a conversation.

Mingyu nodded, trying to hide the embarrassment coloring his face. "Is it a good thing?"

"Sure, he spoke highly of you. He even said you're his favorite," you replied, offering a reassuring smile.

Mingyu silently rescinded the curse he had mentally placed on Seungcheol. But now he couldn't help but wonder about the nature of your relationship with Seungcheol. Had you two grown close? Were you something more than friends? Mingyu's mind raced with questions.

"Did you two meet regularly?" he asked, attempting to subtly probe for information without breaking the bro code.

You tilted your head before shaking it. "Not really. We met a few times, but we both got busy. He's like a brother,, really."

Mingyu raised his brows, recalling something Seungcheol had mentioned about having a new sister. It must have been you.

Mingyu felt a wave of relief wash over him at your response, glad to hear that there wasn't anything romantic between you and Seungcheol. He couldn't deny the flutter of hope that sparked within him at the realization that there might be a chance for him to get to know you better.

"I watched your movie, Exhuma. Amazing," Mingyu complimented your acting, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

You looked genuinely surprised by the praise. "Thanks. It means a lot to me," you replied, a hint of humility in your tone.

"Actually, one of our members, Vernon, watched it twice just in case he missed anything," Mingyu added, a smile playing on his lips as he shared the anecdote.

You gasped in disbelief, clearly touched by the dedication. "Please convey my gratitude to him," you said earnestly.

Mingyu nodded, making a mental note to pass along your message to Vernon. "Sure," he replied with a warm smile.

"Y/n... Can we take a photo with you?" Two people approached both you and Mingyu. Mingyu gestured for them to take a photo with you, and you smiled and nodded, posing for the camera. Your wavy hair danced in the air as the photo was taken.

Once they left, Mingyu invited you to join him in watching the fireworks, a highlight of the event. He positioned you in front of him, standing closely behind you, almost touching your back. As the night grew colder in the outdoor venue, Mingyu removed his suit jacket and gently draped it over your shoulders. You looked surprised by the gesture, but a warm smile spread across your face as Mingyu gave you an assuring nod.

The tender moment between them was accompanied by the dazzling display of fireworks overhead, casting a magical glow over the scene as Mingyu's gesture of chivalry warmed both your bodies and hearts amidst the chilly night air.

"The fireworks matched the music," Mingyu whispered to you, and you nodded in agreement, turning your head to smile at him.

"This event has a great playlist, by the way," you remarked playfully, eliciting a soft laugh from Mingyu.

"The DJ deserves a raise," Mingyu joked, and you nodded in agreement, sharing a lighthearted moment.

As you two conversed, people nearby couldn't help but take pictures and record videos of the charming interaction between you and Mingyu. The ease and comfort between you both were evident, drawing the attention of the media and onlookers alike.

Mingyu looked genuinely at ease with you by his side, and vice versa, creating a captivating dynamic that sparked interest and admiration from those around them.

The aftermath of that night buzzed with chatter and speculation. Whispers circulated about how Mingyu looked at you adoringly, and how your presence seemed to perfectly complement his energy. Yet, amidst the gossip and rumors, only three individuals truly understood the dynamics at play: Mingyu, you, and probably Seungcheol.

Together, you shared a secret bond, hidden from the prying eyes of the world. Mingyu's affectionate glances and your seamless connection spoke volumes, but the truth remained known only to those within the inner circle.

Perhaps it was the work of Cupid, orchestrating the fateful encounter between you and Mingyu that night, weaving together the threads of destiny in a tapestry of love and intrigue. Whatever the case, the memories of that enchanted evening lingered, etched into the hearts of those who were fortunate enough to witness the magic unfold.

*

Scoups hyung: Mingyu!

Scoups hyung: You might be my favorite, but I won't let you hit on my Y/n! She's like a sister to me.

Scoups hyung: Okay, I mean, you might have a chance if Y/n says okay. But I won't let you off that easily!

Scoups hyung: I saw that cheap stare you threw at her!

Scoups hyung: We better meet after this, and you buy me soju!

Scoups hyung: I'm not kidding, okay!

Mingyu: Hyung, chill! Okay, let's meet. But not on Saturday, I have a date with Y/n already ;)

Scoups hyung: You little—

*

Kim Mingyu of SEVENTEEN Confirms Relationship with Actress Ji Y/n

In a surprising turn of events, Kim Mingyu, a beloved member of the popular K-pop group SEVENTEEN, has confirmed his relationship with actress Ji Y/n. The dating news has been officially acknowledged by both Pledis Entertainment, Kim Mingyu's label, and BHEntertainment, Ji Y/n's label, putting an end to speculations surrounding the couple.

In their joint announcement, Pledis Entertainment and BHEntertainment expressed their support for Kim Mingyu and Ji Y/n, emphasizing that the two artists deserve happiness in their personal lives. The agencies also urged fans to continue showing love and support for the couple as they embark on this new chapter together.

Fans of SEVENTEEN and Ji Y/n have flooded social media with messages of encouragement and well-wishes for the newly revealed couple. Many have expressed their delight at seeing their favorite idols find love and happiness, pledging unwavering support for their relationship. Fans are eagerly anticipating any updates or glimpses into their blossoming romance.

The end. Delulu is soluluヾ(＾-＾)ノ

[banj0possum]

could you ever try writing a poly between 3 vampires and male reader? like, reader is a painter and the vampires ask him to paint them something while in their house, and is just.. evolves. sorry if it doesn't make sense

Love Bites

Poly!Vampires x Male!Painter!Reader

CW: implied kidnapping, murder, implied vampirism

holy shit this is like one of the chillest fics ive made so far :0 anyways enjoy the funny vampire men !!

🌙 You always had a knack for finding beauty in everything, from the calming dance of raindrops amongst the smell of petrichor or the lovely reds and oranges of the fall when the leaves withered.

🌙 It was very handy considering what you did for fun.

🌙 You loved to paint, anything and everything you saw was inspiration for you. After a long day of delivering bread and pastries to the people in your village from your bakery, you would run up to your room and continue on the latest masterpiece you were working on.

🌙 Everyone in the village loved your work, many of them paying you for a painting of their own.

🌙 Life was simple and calm, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

🌙 But life decided fuck that bullshit.

🌙 Rumors and whispers filled the streets of the town, it wasn't like the usual talk like someone's daughter getting married or the like, it was much more...unusual.

🌙 News spread from neighboring towns of coffins being found unearthed and opened, shadowy figures roaming around in the late hours of the night, and bodies being found in the morning, drained from their blood.

🌙 It was a terrifying thought, but you didn't dwell upon it, you weren't the type to believe such rumors so easily, and yet a feeling of uneasiness lingered within your soul.

🌙 Your town was no longer the vibrant, happy place it once was before. Windows that once had lovely flowers and laundry lines hung on them were shut day and night, the busy streets you once traversed were covered in a gloomy fog. It really was like an evil has brought itself to your home.

🌙 Or should I say evils?

🌙 In the midst of all the tension, 3 men came to your town. Eccentric was an understatement when describing them, it was like the horrors and whispers of death and murder didn't faze them a bit.

🌙 Even so, you were happy to see something other than terrified faces and panicked expressions.

🌙 You greeted them politely during a cloudy day and noticed how covered they were. One had a large hat on, the other draped in a black cloak and the last holding a parasol that shrouded him in darkness.

🌙 "Good afternoon to you too, me and my friends here are just visiting this quaint little village, how uhm...calm..it is here..hah.."

🌙 The cloaked one chuckled whilst looking to the empty streets.

🌙 "My, my! Aren't you that famous painter I've been hearing about! I'd love to get a painting done from you, but it seems everyone here is quite busy with other things.." says the one in the hat.

🌙 "Oh no! I'd love to paint for you! Come, let's talk more in my bakery. Painting is more of a secondary job for me." You guide the men to your home as you hear the cawing of crows overhead.

🌙 Days pass and you grow closer to the men. You learned that their names were Viktor, Garrick and Silas.

🌙 Viktor had long, silky hair the color of raven's feathers. His eyes shone like two rubies in the dim light of the lanterns you lit around the house. He wore a black cape which hid a wine-red vest.

🌙 He was a gentleman and had a love for poetry. He would recite his favorites to you as you painted next to him. One interesting thing you learned was that he's scared of mice. 'Dreadful things' he calls them, you found it quite adorable once when you two were talking and he suddenly squealed and pulled his feet up at the sight of a small mouse crawling passed your floors. His face, although still as pale as the moon, turned into a light red.

🌙 Garrick had messy, dark hair. His fingers were always adorned with golden rings, and he wore a somewhat stained white, ruffled shirt, you can't tell what it's stained with though. His eyes were a deep purple, one of them covered by his locks. He was unusually flirtatious with you. You joked how he should be courting women, not a baker's son such as yourself, but he whined and cooed how irresistible you were to him, why wouldn't he be interested in a boy like you!

🌙 Silas is a bit darker skinned than the others, who were unusually pale. he had round black glasses and silver hair under a dark hat. Over his shoulders draped a coat, you weren't able to decipher what he kept under it, only that they were vials of strange substances. His eyes were the color of amber, like the hues of leaves that fell in the autumn. Rather shy, he was, always looking away from your eyes whenever he talked with you. He had an interest in flowers, always handing you one whenever he visited for inspiration purposes of course...

🌙 You wouldn't notice it at first, but they've gotten quite a liking to you, protective even. They would always check up on you, if you've been eating, who you've talked to today, things like that.

🌙 It was only until they scared off a young lady for making small talk with you that you started to notice something was off about them.

🌙 When you heard the next day her body was found dead with bite marks on her neck and drained of her blood, you started to worry.

🌙 You started avoided them after that, making excuses to not invite them over to your bakery, walking the other way the moment you see them down the street. They noticed your strange behavior towards them and knew something was wrong with you.

🌙 They didn't buy your silly act at all...

🌙 "You just had to leave the body there, didn't you?!"

🌙 "What? It's fun seeing them all scared and panicky!"

🌙 "Hahah yes but uhm...there's no food out anymore..."

🌙 You heard their voices by your door during the late hours of the night. The feeling that your new friends were not what they seem festered in your mind, but your kind nature overrode your fear and you opened your door.

🌙 "Hey! It's dangerous out there! Do you want to be gutted or something?"

🌙 The 3 of them were walking along the moonlit streets when they heard your voice.

🌙 "A-Ah! Yes! Uhm...of course, excuse us, we just came back from uh..."

🌙 "A pub-"

🌙 "A pub! Yes! And we've somehow lost our way! Could you, by chance, let us stay the night? Our inn is particularly far you see.."

🌙 You unlocked your door and let the 3 gentlemen in, going to the kitchen to warm up some bread and tea for them.

🌙 "Make yourselves at home! Apologies for the mess, I been really busy lately..." you say sweetly. Viktor nods with a smile and they all sit down, whispering softly amongst one another.

🌙 As you wait for the tea to warm, you get a good look at the 3 men.

🌙 Pale skin, pointed ears, not to mention their eyes, they have to be. You had to stop yourself from gasping when Garrick laughed, revealing his sharp fangs. Fear bubbled in your stomach once more until you heard the whistle of your kettle.

🌙 After giving them their tea, you feigned a yawn and told them you were off to bed, giving directions to the spare quarters before going in your room and waiting by your door for any sounds, grabbing a broken paintbrush you accidentally snapped, a makeshift wooden stake..

🌙 You then hear the men climbing the stairs, a conversation being exchanged between them.

🌙 "Shame we must drink from him now, he was such a darling though.."

🌙 "Oh, but I believe I'm quite well off with those wonderful treats he offered us. It's a mystery how someone as wonderful as him isn' married yet..."

🌙 "Unfortunate as it is, I don't think it would be in our best interest if the boy lives.."

🌙 Your heart pounded faster as you heard them talk about you. Your hunch was true, these men are the demons that have ravaged your town. You scrambled to your bed as you hear them walk to your room.

🌙 Your door creaks open as you grip your blanket tight. Footsteps approach you as you feel a dip in the bed.

🌙 "I can hear your cute little heartbeat darling~ I know you're awake~" You hear Viktor purr, tears start to well up in your eyes as they open.

🌙 A hand caresses your cheek and brushes your hair away from your face. You brace yourself as you feel Viktor's cold breath near your neck. You dare not move lest the beast lying next to you devour you whole.

🌙 "Do we have to Viktor?" You hear Silas say in a sorrowful tone.

🌙 "I'm with Silas with this one, why can't we just..I don't know, bring him with us?"

🌙 Viktor pulls back as he pauses for a moment. You could hear the smirk on his face when he chuckles. "Actually, that's not a bad idea Garrick.."

🌙 The next morning, the townspeople saw that your front door was wide open, a window or two was broken and paintings that hung on every wall was gone. There was no sign of you. The only thing that remained was a stain of blood on your bed and claw marks on the walls of your bedroom...

oOOoOooooOo cliffhanger or whatever :00000 part 2 soon !! sorry this one took so long, i had a hard time with the story and such..

And as usual, gay men doodles &lt;3

[byuljoonie]

Give me possessive koo smut 😇

pairing: dom!jk x fem!reader

genre: smut, drabble, request, unedited

word count: 2k

warnings: smut, drinking, lots of swearing, oral 4f, overstimulation, mocking, couch sëx, rough missionary, unsafe sëx, degradation, biting, slapping, squirting, bruising, hair pulling, dom!jk, sub!reader, a little toxicity, idk Sunday fun day ig

note: hope it’s to your liking♡ -dubu

“Unlock your phone.” Jungkook’s eyes pour into yours as he waits for your compliance.

“What?” you question, aggravated by his unnecessary interest in your coworkers.

“Open it, Y/N.” he insists, leaning back onto the sofa cushion, pressing the cold rectangle into your palm.

“Babe, seriously?” you whine, searching his eyes for a hint of playfulness, finding nothing but an ocean of severity.

You were having a conversation about work, letting your boyfriend know of your upcoming schedule and activities. You accidentally let the name of your project partner slip through your wine-coated lips.

Jungkook’s ears perked up at the ring of a masculine sounding name. You stare at him in defeat, taking the phone from his hand with a pitiful sigh.

“I haven’t even texted him yet, for Christ sakes Jungkook!” you say exasperated.

“Yet.” he replied matter-of-factually.

“It’s not like I chose to work with him, Koo.” you exclaimed dramatically, unlocking your phone and going to his saved contact.

You felt this antagonizing creature clawing at your tender insides for momentary satisfaction. Why did you let the wine talk before your instincts? Jungkook isn’t exactly the kindest when it comes to other men around you.

He wasn’t controlling, but his possessiveness was like an amplified speaker to anyone who even thought of sparing you a second glance.

You hated to admit it, but it was hot. The veins on his tattoo covered arms bulged with a vengeance. Each intricate pattern defining his Herculean figure.

The white T-shirt not leaving much to the imagination, your eyes lingered on his pierced lips as you passed the phone over. Earning a hum of approval from him, he tapped away on your phone.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You already follow him on Instagram?” he rhetorically asked, a mound of annoyance behind his darkening pupils.

“I follow all of my coworkers, Kookie.” you complained hesitantly, downing the rest of the red liquid that swirled in your large Burgundy glass.

“Listen, I don’t want you working with him. Simple.” he admitted, pressing the unfollow button on Hoseok’s profile.

You were beyond infuriated, you snatched your phone back pressing the follow button in an instant. Not thinking about the consequences that follow your instinctual actions. Jungkook chuckled at your sudden burst of anger.

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Y/N?” he grabbed the phone from your hand, tossing it to the plush rug, letting it slide beneath your glass coffee table.

The wine made you drunk with rage, the other part of you craving a deeper need from your hellish boyfriend. Jungkook rose from his spot on the sofa, grabbing your neck and pinning you below him. He enjoyed the feeling of your palpitating heartbeat on his fingertips.

“Baby—“ you struggled to speak, legs clasping around his knee that rest atop your unclothed hips. Bad day to only wear his shirt, you thought to yourself.

“Shut up.” he glared down at you, putting pressure between your legs.

“Since you want to act like a pathetic slut —“ he pressed his knee down harder, rubbing your clothed pussy agonizingly slow.

“I’ll treat you accordingly.” he let your neck go finally, being met with a few strained coughs from you. You had no time to react, his shirt was being pulled from your body. Your head swimming with anticipation and thoughts of Jungkook’s defilement.

You felt dizzy and exposed to the harsh temperatures of your once comfortable living room. Jungkook watched you writhing under him, a predatory smile lingering on his soft face.

“You think it’s okay to let him spend time alone with you?” he grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks between his large hand.

“Looking at you, speaking to you, touching you.” he peered over your naked body once more, eyes lingering on your bare chest, his free hand stopping above your panty line.

“All this —“ he began lustfully, “ is mine.”

He ripped your panties from your lower half, causing you to scream in frustration, fighting against his muscular arm. He let your face go, delivering 3 small slaps to your cheek. Putting you in check before he had to let whatever caged animalistic intentions loose.

“I’ve had enough of your resistance, Princess.” he whispered hotly in your ear, biting your earlobe before moving to the next ear.

“I can smell how wet you are from here, Y/N.” he bit down again, sending you into a frenzy of pathetic whimpers.

“Your cunt is crying for my attention, but you want to play with some loser?” he questioned cockily, rubbing his bare palm over your soaking pussy.

You moaned his name in retaliation, hips rutting upwards against his calloused hand. He laughed at your feeble attempts at gaining friction, pulling his hand away.

“I’m going to ruin you right here, baby.” A smirk tugged at his lips, he leaned back on the couch. Grabbing his glass from the table and downing what once was at half full capacity.

He sucked in a small breath, biting his bottom lip before turning back to you. Pulling his shirt over his head and revealing everything your eyes have been waiting for.

“I want to leave a trace of me on every inch of your body.” He stood up from his seated position, stalking over you like this was his last chance to consume you.

He yanked your ankles towards him, turning your body to face him like you were praying beneath him. Your legs hung carelessly over the edge of the couch, too dizzy to hold them up for your waiting beast. He smiled down at you in admiration, loving how ruined you already looked beneath him. Pussy leaking onto the sofa cushion, legs sprawled open for him.

“Look at you — so fucking gorgeous” he gleamed, kneeling in front of your body. He ran a hand over your stomach, letting his inquisitive fingers explore your skin.

“Fucking love your tits, Princess.” he leaned down beginning his assault on your chest, licking and sucking at your nipple like a love drunken mad man.

“More — please Kookie,” you begged, arms resting on his back, nails scratching in intricate motions. He hummed against your nipple, tongue circling the bud feverishly.

He pulled away with a lewd pop, spit dribbling down his chin. “No one’s mouth will ever feel as good as mine.”

He started kissing down the center of your chest, occasionally leaving love marks on your memorized sensitive spots. He stopped just above your panty line, loving the way your breath hitched in your throat.

He went in with a wink, tongue lapping at your exposed sensitive skin. His tongue searched your core for unanswered questions, gripping at your hips with every moan you released. He slurped against your clit letting lewd noises drown out the sound of the crackling fireplace. He released one of your hips, bringing his hand down to open your lips. Exposing your clit to the invading muscle, he latched his lips around the bundle of nerves. You screamed in pleasure clasping your shaking legs around his head.

He removed his lips from your pussy, mouth shining with your essence. He worked two fingers over your clit, sliding them down until they hovered over your entrance. He grinned down at you before he inserted them, fingering you fiercely.

“Aww, who makes you feel this good? Hmm Y/N?” He cooed happily, “Who’s pussy is this?” He mewled, setting his fingers into a come hither motion.

“Y-yours—“ you cried out desperately, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

He used his free hand to slap your clit repeatedly, sending you into a crying mess. Your legs closed around his arm, body writhing against his unmoving fingers. He pulled you closer and closer to your orgasm, biting his lip in concentration, relishing in the sounds you were making for him.

“Cum, baby. I want to feel you cum on my fingers before I fuck the soul out of you.” he confessed sweetly, sickeningly sweet. You groaned at his words, letting the knot in your stomach burst. You felt stars cloud your vision as his fingers continued their actions.

He used his free hand to slap your pussy again, smiling at the way you cried out for him to stop. He kept going, moaning at your cunt clenching repeatedly around his fingers.

“Koo, please” you implored weakly, hiccuping along with a string of moans.

“Please what? Stop?” he questioned teasingly, “No.”

You felt another knot forming in your lower stomach, his fingers edging you closer to a stronger orgasm. Your stomach felt funny, it felt different, like a new sensation of pleasure was pushing through.

His urged you to cum, his fingers hitting your g-spot with ease. With a few last pumps, you felt yourself release on his fingers, screaming his name in shock. You stomach twitched continuously, opening your eyes to see the aftermath of what just happened.

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook’s lower face glistening with your mess, his pupils dilated and hungry for more. You felt your cheeks grow warm, not knowing what to say next, you’ve never done that before.

“Naughty girl, why’ve you never squirted like that before? Guess I should do better, huh?” He rose from his position on the floor, giving you a second to catch your breath while he removed his shorts.

His cock sprung free from its restraints, mushroom head aggressively leaking with pre-cum. “I want you to take this dick like the slut that you are,” he pumped his hand around his length, moaning at the way you lasciviously looked at him.

He lowered himself down until he was level with your center, rubbing the tip against your sticky folds. You granted him a pitiful whine, biting the corner of your swollen lip as you watched him rub against you.

“Use your words, Y/N. I won’t hold back unless you say it,” he probed, restraining himself from slamming his hips forward. You lay quietly looking him in his eyes, daring him to take you.

“Fuck —“ he pushed into you gradually, “squeeze my dick just like that,” he groans fingers pressing heavily into your hips.

“So big, just want you,” you moaned at him, pussy clenching around his cock again. He pulled away slowly, ramming back into your hips with brute force. His balls lewdly slapping against your skin as he fucked you into the sofa. He picked up his pace, rhythmically filling the room with grunts. He reached forward taking a hold of your hair and yanked your head back, biting your exposed neck. A light sheen a sweat coated your hot skin, beads of sweat running down your cheeks as he fucked you. The living room rang with filthy words of mocking betrayal and faux empathy for your overstimulated figure.

He pressed a hand down on your lower stomach, eyes nearly bulging from his head at the feeling of his cock invading your insides. His actions made your breathing increase, hiccuping over his name. His face contorting in immense pleasure as he demanded you repeat after him.

“Say it. Tell me you love me while you take this dick, Y/N.” you felt your hips aching, knowing marks already began forming on your body.

“I love you Jungkook—“ you cried out obediently, pussy convulsing around his stilled cock. Your orgasms rushing through your bodies. You shivered at the empty feeling you felt when he removed himself. He leaned down pressing a kiss on your neck, wiping some of the sweat from your foreheads.

“I love you too.” he smiled boyishly, breathing heavy and warm on your neck. “I’m taking you to work all next week, babe.”

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Please Please Please - Rafe Cameron Short Story (Part 1 of 6)

+18 Minor DNI

Older MobDealer!Rafe x Female Reader

🪄 re-uploaded because I had to make a new account.

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

3333 words

Warnings contain spoilers: domestic assault, cheating, swearing, name-calling, gaslighting, threats, and mentions of killing partner, general violence. Every chapter after this, will have Rafe as the focal point.

📖 Loosely based on the song and music video Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter 💕

✨“Stopping in your tracks, you watch the tall blonde struggle to break free. He grits his teeth, fighting against the cuffs, his broad chest gaping at the buttons of his black button-down shirt. He looks like he’s been through it; a gashed lip, the bottom of his pressed shirt half-tucked, his hair messy and sweaty against his dewy, tanned skin.”✨

*blue font is present day

Reader’s POV:

Red wine, Tony’s favorite, Cabernet Sauvignon specifically. Tokara Telos, the first bottle of wine we shared on our very first date. Fitting for our two year anniversary. Slowly swirling the glass you watch the rich red wine cascade down the side. You look at the oven, eyeing the clock, watching a second hour pass. Nine… Dinner was set for seven. Where the hell is he? Maybe he texted me? Maybe he’s in a business meeting gone long or wrong?

Unread to read. Your heart skips a beat as you watch the three dots impatiently; Tony finally acknowledging you, letting you know where the fuck he is and what the hell he’s doing.

Nothingness.

The three dots disappear leaving behind the disappointing chain of messages.

Is he with someone else?

I hate that that’s where my mind goes first, since he’s assured me time and time again he’s faithful and I’m paranoid. It’s hard to give him the benefit of the doubt when there’s so much to doubt. Every excuse just sounds so fabricated with him, corroborated by his goons so I don’t have a leg to stand on.

Then there’s the talk around the country club… It’s just whispers, no real proof, but I swear it’s so goddamn loud. I’m rarely at the Island Club, but when I am, I can see the eyes on us. The cutting watch of women who Tony could possibly be seeing on the side; gossip shared just out of earshot. Everyones’ pity and focus always seems to be directed at me.

It’s embarrassing to feel like everyone knows my drama but me. No one opens their mouths. Ya know why? They’re scared… Scared of him. And I don’t blame ‘em. I’d be scared too.

So here I sit. Getting stood up by my boyfriend while he’s out doing god knows what, with god knows who, because he can. He can do whatever he’d like, break my heart, bruise my ego, because deep down I know there’s nothing I can do… The day I met him was the day I lost myself.

“Vlad,” you call from the kitchen, your voice bouncing off the walls of the lavish estate. “Vlad?”

“Miss?” Tony’s driver comes around the corner with a broad smile, taking in the smells of whatever lingers of the now cold pom de terre. “Smells delicious, Miss. I didn’t know you were a cook.”

“I’m not,” you sigh through a labored laugh. “Just thought I’d make what we had on our first date,” you hum, hearing the drunken slur in your own voice. Vlad cocks an eyebrow, clocking it instantly. “Umm… Dinner was supposed to be at seven,” you sough, gesturing with your glass toward the clock. “Do you know where he-”

“How was lunch with Anna?” He cuts you short, quickly changing the subject, leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Where’s Tony,” you return, trying your best to level your wavering tone, dismissing his “pleasantries”.

“The office-”

“What office exactly?” You snip, knowing it’s the Law Firm or The Country Club. Vlad’s gaze casts to the floor. He shuffles his Italian leather boot anxiously, not as good with his “excuses” as the other men on Tony’s payroll. It’s a wordless answer nonetheless - The Country Club. “Can you take me there? I want to make sure he has some dinner. I’m assuming he’s been there all day. The meeting just went long?” You ramble, without a verbal answer from him, gathering your things to leave as the older man flounders.

"Miss…” He cautions you, taking his turn with a faltering tone, making matters worse for Tony.

“Is there an issue?” You ask as you lift an eyebrow in his direction.

“Mr. Marietta is in an important meeting. As you know, they’re not usually the safest situations, and he demands your safety. Tony expressed to me that he would be home late. Would you like me to call him and ask when he’ll be coming home?” You roll your eyes, chuckling in disbelief as you stroll past him.

“I am perfectly capable of that,” you breathe as you snag a new bottle of red wine, heading out the door.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦

The Country Club comes into sight, the gaudy neon sign flickering from a distance. The parking lot is packed, littered with cars; always jam-packed on the weekends. Kooks, Pogues, and tourists alike all brought together for their shared love of pussy.

“Park there,” you guide from the backseat as you spot Tony’s blacked-out Maybach truck parked under the streetlight. Vlad locks eyes with you through the rearview mirror.

“Would you like me to call him before you go inside, Miss?” You shake your head ‘no’ as you look out the window, drawing a deep, nervous breath before pushing out.

What am I walking into?

“Y/n?” Luis, Tony’s bodyguard and bouncer, calls from his seat outside the door. “What are you doin’ here?” He looks in all directions for watchers-on anxiously, the blood drained from his face like he’d just seen a ghost. Only a handful of people even know that Tony owns this shithole. To virtually everyone on the Island he’s just another Kook King. The Marietta to the Marietta and Klaus Law Firm. This is simply a front for something bigger, something Tony can use to wash his dirty drug money; a front. “You just missed Tony,” he lies through his gold-capped teeth.

“He’s here,” you smile as you step toward the door, grabbing the handle. Luis rests his large palm on top, looking down at you blankly. “He’s in a meeting, Miss.”

“And-” You ask as you twist the knob, but Luis doesn’t budge. “Move.”

“No.”

“Get the fuck out of my way,” you snap. Luis’s jaw tightens as he shakes his head ‘no’ standing firm. “You said he wasn’t here. Now he’s here and I can’t go in? That’s my fuckin’ boyfriend,” you hiss.

“I have orders, ma’am.”

“Orders?” You scoff.

“Orders-”

“Pussy,” you spit, turning on your heels, heading back where you came. Plan B. You pick up speed, clipping down the asphalt before he can intervene, following the line of men waiting outside, before slipping through the front door.

Your head hangs low as you walk through the dim, seedy hallway, pushing past patrons sauntering in and out of the gentlemen’s club. The main floor. I’ve never been here… The office is the farthest I’ve gone. You catch a few familiar faces from the Island Club, their eyes doubling in disbelief and shame for seeing you here and being seen themselves. Music blares as you storm toward the back; beautiful women dancing on the stage in nothing but Pleasers for the swarm of men gathered around, flicking and raining ones on the stage.

“Yes,” you gasp as you watch a stripper step out from behind the back-of-house door; catching it before it swings shut. Just a few paces and you’re there. You slide in your key and open the office door without a second thought, ripping off the bandaid.

Nothing… The office is dark, only the light of Tony’s laptop glowing in the empty post. Maybe he is gone. You step toward it, letting your heart rate settle as you circle his desk.

The corner of your lips curl into a trembling smile as you see a framed picture of the two of you on his desk. A post-it note affixed to the top with a reminder for tonight’s date.

Maybe I am paranoid… You pull out his large leather desk chair, taking a seat. Drawing a deep, needed breath, you let your shoulders fall, releasing some of your tension. It doesn’t explain why his truck is still here… Your eyes flash open, returning to the worry at hand landing on a bar napkin. Red lipstick.

Your stomach sinks as you hold the note, your eyes flicking to the laptop screen. Oh my god. Your heart shatters as you watch a blonde bounce on Tony’s lap, his lips locked on hers.

“No…”

“I know,” you sigh as you relax your head back onto the cold brick wall of Kildare County Jail, looking up at the ceiling.

“Did ya kill 'em?” The woman asks in a gruff tone as she crosses her arms over her chest, tits spilling out of her tattered, lace bralette as she snaps her gum. “S'that why you’re in here?”

“Thought about it? But no. That’s not why I’m here.” You open your heavy eyes, taking in your surroundings, contemplating all the choices that landed you here. The worst of it, ever being with him in the first place.

“So, what happened next?”

“Well…”

There’s a brief separation as Tony draws away from their kiss, staring toward the door of the Champagne Room. Luis… He must have figured it out. Tony pushes the stripper off his lap, gathering his clothes as he frantically dresses.

Here we go.

You hear the muffled bang of the first door and the gritting of his key working the lock on the second. You watch as the knob twists, light flooding the room as Tony pushes into the office coming toward you fast. Tony grabs your shoulders, and you fight him off. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” you snap.

“Baby, please. You gotta talk to me? What’s going on? Why are you so upset? Please just talk to me,” he pleads like he’s done before; times when I gave him the benefit of the doubt; times when I believed I could be the problem here. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Tony!” You cry. “Are you fuckin delusional? I saw you fuckin’ that stripper with my own two eyes.”

“Princess, she was just dancing. It was a lap dance. Alright? You have to believe me.”

“Just a lap dance…” You scoff looking down at his undone belt, zipper down, dress pants pitched from his hard-on. He follows your eyes, hastily zipping and fastening his pants closed.

“I don’t know what you think you saw-”

“We’re done,” you chuckle tiredly as you step back, throwing open the side office door. Tony immediately reaches for you, clawing for your arm. “Let go of me,” you struggle.

“You’re not leavin’,” he asserts, pulling you back inside.

“I am. I’m done with you. It’s our anniversary, Tony. Look at where you are. Look at what you’re doing. How could you do this to me?”

“Do what? It was just a dance. I just got out of a major deal. Alright? I was about head home-”

“Liar!”

“Liar?” He questions. “Did you just call me a liar?” He asks as you feel the sting of his blunt fingernails digging into your arm.

“I know what I saw…”

“Princess… Even if I was lying. What the fuck are you gonna do about it. Huh? You’re mine, bitch. I own you. Where are you gonna go? What money do you have? How are you gonna afford this lifestyle you’ve become so accustomed to? Spending my hard-earned money like the gold-digging slut you are. You should be grateful,” he snarls as he steps toe-to-toe with you using his free hand to tug his leather belt from the loops of his pants.

You look up into his dark eyes as cruel words spit so readily from his wicked lips like he’s had time to prepare. I’ve seen this side of him, only once. He’s an evil man, and I know that. But this sort of cruelty has never been reserved for me. Until today. He grips his belt a little tighter in his fist making you take a few steps back but he stalks closer.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere,” he threatens.

“I am,” you whisper as you try to remain firm.

“I don’t think you understand this relationship we’ve got goin’ on, sweetheart. You go when I say you go,” he growls, tracing the belt along your bare thigh. “Do you think you’ll have a life after me? You think I’ll allow that shit.” He winds up smacking it against your skin. You gnash your teeth in pain, holding back tears, the most horrifying part knowing he could go far harder. “You know too much. You’re a liability. You have nothing. You are nothing without me. And you will be nothing without me.” Chills fall down your spine at his words and the crazed look in his eyes, his pupils blown from coke, pleasure, and rage.

“M'not scared of you.”

“You’re not. Huh? My tough girl.” He leans in; lips draw to your neck, kissing your pulse point, your rapid heartbeat calling your bluff as you inhale Cassidy’s cheap perfume lingering on his skin. You pinch your eyes shut as his large hand threads into your hair, tugging slightly while the other soothes your stinging thigh with his rough palm.

“I came from nothing, Tony. I’ll be fine.”

He scoffs as he uses his grasp on your strands to shove you away, letting the back of your head and body bang against the side door. Tony buttons up his still-undone shirt; bright red lipstick stained on the collar as well as his neck, a dark hickey forming to boot. Tears roll down your cheeks as you stand there defeated in your date night dress, your perfect makeup now streaming down your cheeks as you look into his soulless eyes.

“Fuck you, Tony.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” he chuckles as he pulls a cigarette out from behind his ear, placing it between his lips before snapping his lighter. “You leave, and I’ll find you. I own Figure 8, princess. Hell, I own this whole damn island. You better not make it too hard on me, baby doll. It’s our anniversary, after all. I’m sure you got somethin’ pretty for Daddy under that little dress of yours. I know you like it rough… but you might not make it out this time,” he laughs as he tosses his belt roughly toward his desk, the picture of the two of you clattering and shattering on the floor.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Me? Never… But if my hands are wrapped tight enough around that pretty little throat of yours and you don’t have enough juice to shout our safe word that’s on you, angel.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’ll give you a 5 minute head start, love. That seems fair?”

You grab the door and pull it open, taking a few steps before turning around again, pressing your back against the cool door, holding it shut as you look for an out. Luis is gone from his post, most likely keeping watch on the opposite end, Vlad in the parking lot, open water on the other side. There’s no way I can go back home. No family close by. No car. No escape. Looking out into the busy parking lot, you watch a squad car slow-roll through the back of the lot. Perfect.

Thank you, Luis. You reach down, snagging his Louisville Slugger perched against the weathered barstool. "Miss?” You hear his bodyguard’s frantic voice as he rounds the corner. You run into the lot as fast as your feet can take you, swerving around cars; dodging Luis.

You slam your eyes shut, swinging hard, nailing Tony’s Maybach truck, shattering the glass. The car alarm blares, echoing through the large lot. “Y/n!” Luis yells, but you swing and swing again.

“Y/n!” Tony barks from the door. You point the bat in his direction, twirling it before knocking off the wing mirror and sending it flying. A second siren fires, the sound of the police cruiser blares through the night, competing with the truck as it gets closer and closer.

You nail the glass, shards spilling into the truck as the cruiser pulls up, moving to the front of the vehicle you make your delinquency visible, quickly knocking out each headlight while the deputies climb out of their vehicle. “Get on the ground. Get on the ground now!” They holler.

“Deputy, this… this is a misunderstanding,” Tony assures as he enters the lot, softening his voice again.

“No, it’s not. And if I had a knife, I’d slash your tires, asshole.” The officers grab for you, expecting a fight, ultimately getting the latter. You cross your arms behind your back, smiling at Tony as they lock you in cuffs.

"Well, shit,” the older woman chuckles as she pulls you back to reality.

“Mhmm… but I’m a liability. After that little stunt I pulled, I know I’m living on borrowed time. Jail is the only place I could leave and be safe for the night. It’s just a band aid though; a temporary fix. I’m sure he’ll bail me out any minute, but who knows what’ll happen? I want to show him I’m not afraid.”

She purses her lips, debating whether to ask the million dollar question. “Are you?” She asks somberly.

“I wish I wasn’t-”

“L/n, someone just bailed your ass out. Let’s go,” an officer calls from outside the cell. The woman beside you taps your leg, giving you a little nod.

“He lays a finger on you, honey, I got no problem comin’ back here.”

“Thank you,” you whisper before turning toward the officer, giving her a wide, fake smile.

You rise to your feet, fixing your dress as you walk to out-processing. “To the left.”

Shupe matches your gaze from his post, giving you a wary glance. “M'am, are these your belongings?” He asks as he holds up the plastic bag of goods. You give him a soft smile and a nod. “Sure you got nothin’ you wanna tell me, Miss F/N L/N. Now’s the time,” Shupe warns. “You know, it’s Tony who posted your bail. He’s waitin’ for you outside-”

“I’m fine. Just fine, Deputy,” you assure as you fish your lipstick out from your clutch, slicking it on in the reflection of the privacy glass. “It was nothin’. Just a misunderstanding, as I said.”

“Just fine? Trashing Mr. Marietta’s Maybach truck was nothing? Just a normal night for the two of you?” He asks sarcastically.

You look at him and smile, dead-eyed and defeated. “It was our anniversary, actually.” Shupe’s eyes widen at yours, the occasion making your story even more unbelievable. “Have a great day, Deputy.”

“This is not a beauty pageant,” the female officer grunts, shooing you toward the exit.

I don’t know if I made the right choice… but I’m not gonna snitch. If I want to survive, I’m going to have to be strategic.

“I’m cooperating. Ain’t I?” You hear a deep voice echo down the hallway.

Stopping in your tracks, you watch the tall blonde struggle to break free. He grits his teeth, fighting against the cuffs, his broad chest gaping at the buttons of his black button-down shirt. He looks like he’s been through it; a gashed lip, the bottom of his pressed shirt half-tucked, his hair messy and sweaty against his dewy, tanned skin.

His eyes match yours; even from a distance, you can see how blue they are. His entire demeanor shifts, softening as a smile pulls on his pretty lips. A smile so beautiful, you can’t help but return the same.

There’s something magnetic about him, an intensity drawing your focus to him like a moth to a flame. He winks, and in that instant, everything changes. There’s no mistaking the connection swelling between you.

“Hey,” he mouths; your breath catches in your chest, pulse-quickening as time slows to a snail’s-pace. He looks at you until the last minute before being shoved inside his confinements. The metal door slams shut, jarring you from your daze, the bustle of the jail building from the solace in your mind.

Who was that?

It was momentary… a fleeting beat. The calm before the storm. You get pushed along, shoved toward the exit, and away from a sweet dream, thrown straight into a nightmare.

Part 2

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[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Congratulations in 5K, wow that's amazing and I'm so happy for you!

Could you please write a Graves drabble (he doesn't get enough love) where he's just so absolutely in love with his SO? Like standing back, leaning against a door frame, and watching his partner do something as mundane as the dishes or drawing? Him softly smiling as his SO hums or does something subconsciously??

I love your writing. Thank you for being my comfort writer.

—Love Echoes In Silence

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can feel him watching you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a small smile. Humming to yourself, you listen to the birds outside the window.] ❞

You dip your soapy hands back into the water, grabbing another plate before moving it over to the side to rinse its white porcelain face—finally setting it down in the plastic dish rack. Shifting back over, you hum under your breath and grab another, snatching up the washing rag as well to get rid of any residual germs. 

You’d only been at this for about ten minutes; the dishes from last night were left for this morning on account of Phillip coming home early. You’d both had a soft supper with a few glasses of red wine before retiring to bed, where the man was still asleep in the ruffled sheets as his bare skin lay in the rising sunlight; his stomach to the mattress and his hair sticking this way and that. It had been a chore to sneak out from under his arm, but you’d done it nonetheless even if it had taken a few minutes. One delicate kiss to Phillip’s forehead later, you’d slipped into his large t-shirt and padded to the kitchen. 

So, here you are, cleaning up with a smile on your lips and sleepy heat under Phillip’s shirt. A slow hum echoing through the air. 

Another dish is added to the clean pile, and as you grasp one of the dirty wine glasses, you miss the small creak of the floor leading to the kitchen as you listen to the birds outside. 

Phillip rubs at his face with the palm of his hand, yawning slowly before he pushes back his hair and watches. He’s only in his sweatpants—the gray color bunched as the un-tied waistband hangs at his hips. Blinking at you, a slow twitch goes across the man’s lips as he leans to the side, his shoulder to the door frame. 

He doesn’t speak—doesn’t utter anything as his arms cross over his chest and you continue your shapeless tune. Phillip isn’t a good man; he isn’t worthy of care or compassion. He’s done things that will follow him to his grave, the one he’d been digging himself since long before he met you. But there were moments like these where the light hit your body just right; where the house was silent and the floors were soft underfoot. 

Tiny moments that echoed like a call to home. 

You place the wine glass upside down to let the water drip out, wringing out the wash rag and unplugging the sink. You’d only begun washing your hands when your ears twitch to movement. A smile peels your lips.

“Mornin’,” Phillip mutters into your hair, hands sneaking around you until you’re held back to a bare chest. 

“Good morning,” you whisper, flicking off the water on your fingers. Your heart is light. “Sleep well?” 

He hums, squeezing you gently. 

“Come back t’bed.” Your chuckle makes him smile, eyes crinkling. 

“Phillip, I just got up.”

“C’mon, Sweetheart,” he pleads but doesn’t give you time to respond, arms bending to capture your legs and the span of your shoulders. You laugh as he hikes you into his hold—carrying you before your arms snap around his neck; curling into him. “Up ya get.”

“Really?” Your amused voice makes him look at you, raising one of his pale blows as he smirks softly. He brings you back to bed, tendrils of hair bouncing along the way. 

“Up and disappeared. You always leave the men with cold sheets and a yearnin’ in their hearts?” You roll your eyes, giggling into his neck. “You’ll be stickin’ right beside me today, Doll. That’s an order.”

All you do is kiss the corner of his mouth before he drops you both back onto the mattress.

[tonixe]

mistress

a/n: Nothing for the moment, but I will try to set up a schedule for when I'm going to post my next fic so it can be organized. I lowkey love the mature version of coriolanus snow, he is like Daddy or like zaddy, just AHHHHHH.

warning: penetration, p in in the v, cheating, breeding kink, reproductive coercion, baby trapping, toxic dynamics, spanking, misogynistic coriolanus. (maybe considered as dark content)

pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

word counter: 2.4k

pt 2 of goverment hooker

taglist`` @slut4ethan

A few months passed, then years...

—since your sexual encounter with the gentleman you met at the bar, you had stayed on the low until meeting him, you wouldn't lie to yourself that your heart yearned to see him again, though being a peacekeeper couldn't guarantee if he was still here. Though you went back to your old habits, bringing in men and seducing them to fill your pockets up for sexual favors, you never felt anything inside the relationship. It was just a casual exchange for goods and pleasure.

If they were well fooled by you, they would do more to win your heart like gifting diamonds, jewels, fancy dresses, heels, and expensive, luxurious bags. With a card, always handwritten to you in black pen with a bouquet of flowers, maybe roses, peonies, or tulips. Usually red, or pink, colors that represent 'romance' or 'love'. You manage to catch on to when men would send you these gifts, you enjoyed being showered in lavish things but it would bore you a little,

Due to your interesting status, you manage to sneak into important parties, the fancy ones you like. The ones with champagne and the aged wine were expensive, the big chandeliers with jewels and diamonds hanging from them, and the huge halls with delicate porcelain vases and tiles. You got an invite from one of the fools of men you were messing around with, some known politician in Panem. Walking into the gracious hall, wearing a black cocktail dress, and some diamond jewelry given to you by your several misters, clutching onto your matching black purse.

Small chatter fills up the hall, as you steal a glass of champagne from the waiters passing it around. You still had to walk with the fool you tricked, holding onto his bicep lovingly, fluttering your lashes at him, and laughing at his empty 'witty' comments. "Darling, what is going on right now" You said, pursing your lips together, you knew he would answer your cute antics. "The new president of Panem is here," the man said, you looked at him, fluttering your eyes back at the new information. "Who is here, darling" You pushed your chest on his arm, starting to make him flustered with your inappropriate antics, "Sir Coriolanus Snow" he responded, your eyes widened at the family name, backing up from his arm. The name of the man you lay with years ago, "He's here?" you exclaimed, and he nodded. "Oh my," you stopped, "We will meet him, will we?" you twirled your hair, looking up at him with your doe eyes.

This would be your big chance, your chance at stopping boring yourself around useless men, your life would be filled with riches, a lavish lifestyle, and expensive jewelry. Even being the First Lady of Panem made you feel thrilled and better than fooling around with a stupid man who isn't faithful to their wife. "We will, my beaut," he said, before wrapping his around your waist, it made me feel disgusted. As we sailed across the halls, talking to other politicians and influential people, until we saw the devil himself.

Coriolanus Snow...the now-elected president of Panem. Your eyes sparkled in delight, though the encounter was long ago, he looked well-prim and mannered. He was wearing a red suit, a tucked collared shirt with matching dress pants, and his hair was longer than the peacekeeper's mandatory buzz cut. It looked like he was talking to another group of well-off people, you watched him as he talked to them and finished up their conversation. Before he walked away, it looked into the hall out of the ballroom. It was your chance to talk to him, maybe he'll remember you. Some part inside of you doubted but the other side was hopeful, "Darling, I need to powder up my nose, I'll be gone for a few minutes" You turned towards him, and he nodded. You clutched onto your bag and followed Coriolanus out of the ballroom.

Maybe just maybe he'll remember you, I mean how can he not. Not after a promise he made to you, well maybe a promise, you were too fucked to realize what he said but it was something.

It was awkward following him, would he think of you being a stalker, you weren't, you followed him until an empty hall before he stopped mid-way, "You don't have to follow me around, you know" He spoke, making chills run down your spine. Pushing back a strand of your hair over your ear, "You probably don't remember don't you?" You cocked your head to the side, you watched him as he turned around ever so gracefully on his heels, looking straight at you. Your cheeks flushed, he looked mature, rougher around the edges. His blue eyes iris looking at your e/c ones.

"Pardon?" He asked doubt starting to fill you up, "Not even the promise of you coming back to me, fill you with any ideas?" You cocked your eyebrows, giving him a little smile. Holding your hands together to your stomach, "Y/N?" his eyes widen at the new fact, "In the flesh" you smirked, raising your hands up. "You never were going to come back, weren't you" You faked a sad tone in your voice, flickering your eyes to your hands, walking up to him. He didn't respond, "Never thought a Peacekeeper would be the next President of Panem, " You rambled on, flickering your doe eyes at him, "So, how are you now?" you smiled, "I'm well off now" He responds, he put his hand inside of his pockets. "Well, I'm sorry what happened to your friend, I heard about the hanging" he sniffed, you watched if would tense up at the words, but he didn't at all.

"Well, he was setting up a rebellion against the capitol, so he would be punished for it" He finished, it was harsh for him to say that about a friend, you thought he cherished, it was a man that was from the capitol, never thought someone like that would care about district people at all.

"That was harsh, ain't it?" You pursed your lips, "No, it wasn't harsh enough" He said, his eyes flickering at you. You played with the bracelets on your wrist, "—And, you Y/N..." you turned your head at him as your name came out of your lips, "I have done my research on you fully"

"Oh really" you cocked your eyebrows, you were amused at what he was going to say, "Your the capitol's slut, a woman who slept her way through the capitol, with politicians, congressmen, and senators, how many do you trick for gifts and money" There was an odd tension between you it was thick, "Your right, but not as accuracy. I don't sleep my way through, I only trick, I'm not just a whore you know" you pouted and placed your hands on your hips. "So, does it make you think differently of me" You put your hand underneath his chin, surprisingly he didn't curve you or stop your attempt, his eyes looking at yours. Feeling his hands on the sides of your hips. "Not at all" He whispered, before he pulled you into a kiss. His tongue explored your cavern, and you felt yourself getting aroused by the hungry kiss. You knew your plan was bound to work, putting your arms around his neck, withdrawing from his lips. "We shouldn't do here, it would be improper" You looked away, feeling shy in front of him.

"The hall is going to be over soon, so tell your mister or whatever man you brought here to go home alone, you'll be coming with me" You felt his breath against your ear, making you feel sensitive underneath your dress. You felt his hands trailing your waist, "Alright" you flickered your eyes to him, "I will" you tracing the shape of his collar and coat.

The car ride was filled with tension, the car was luxurious though. You enjoy it very much. Feeling butterflies in your stomach, your cheeks flushed. He was already wrapped around your fingers, it was an easy hook and reel. Feeling the car halting at a big manor, your eyes brighten up, "We're here" He stated, the door opening up for you, as you stepped out of the car, and walked with him inside the estate. The estate was beautiful, with blossoms, and freshly trimmed grass and trees around the houses. Stepping onto the perfect cobblestone path with him, you bit your lips at the thought.

The guard in front opened the manor's large doors, as you walked in, clutching your bag to your stomach. "It's a beautiful estate" your eyes darted around the luxurious manor.

"It is" he responded back, before looking at you, his heels trailing back to your front. "Let's go towards the bedroom" Your eyes brightened, as you felt his hands on yours pulling you into his chambers, your heels echoing around the large mansion. The door were closed by him and locked. He pulled you into a kiss, his hands rubbing your waist and your curves hungrily, the kiss making your knees feel weak. His hands trailing the zipper of your dress, you were too busy with his lips on yours to comprehend what was going on. Feeling the cocktails dress dropping and your lingerie being shown to him, as he withdrew. "You weren't going to show that guy, all of that were you?" He muttered, "No" feeling the strap of your bra falling to the side, "Not at all" you smiled, feeling his hands on your body, as he carried you. Your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, as he kissed you further.

He pushes you onto the enormous bed, his hands rubbing on you. His hands trailed down to your panties rubbing your clit harshly, making you mewl, "Corio" you whined, your chest heaving up and down. Finger dipping into you further inside, your velvety walls clenching around his fingers, you grind your hips to his hand, feeling your skin heat up, desperate for a release.

Squirming against him, "Your so desperate, aren't you" he mocked, His fingers plunging in and out of you several times making you feel immense pleasure. "Corio, please I'm close" you whined, feeling your hands gripping onto the sheets. Feeling a wave of pleasure coming down on you, squirting out. Your chest heaving, you looked at him withdrawing, his fingers dripping with your juices. Watching him lapping his tongue at his fingers, making you press your thighs together.

He took off your black panties, slowly. You lifted your legs as he fully took it off. "Take it all off, Y/N" He whispered, his eyes looking at your almost bare body, you clipped out your bra, dropping it to the floor, your breast being displayed to him. "Do you like them, Corio?" you fluttering your eyes at him, propping your chest up. You looked at his awaiting form, and your eyes dragged to his lower abdomen area tightened up in his dress pants. Cocking your head to the side, "I need you, Corio" you purposely slurred your words, "Please" watching him unbuckling his belt, and taking off his boxer before he mounted on top of you, your back on the bed. You spread your pussy lips for him to align himself in you.

Feeling him inserting himself into you, sinking into your clenching walls. Your throat ripped out a wanton string of moans, it felt like his cock got bigger, his cock stretching you out deliciously. His low growl tickled your ear before he started moving, massaging your inner walls. His cock fucking into your cunt, sloppy sounds filling up his chambers, everything feeling hot around you. Your plan was working out, no condoms just raw sex. You just need him to cum into you, and you were guaranteed to get something of Coriolanus. His hands on your hips as he thrust into you, feeling his cock brushing your cervix making you jolt, "Fuck" you cursed, opening your legs further for him, his pelvis slapping yours. His balls swinging onto your lower ass. You squirmed under his touch, his hands touching your chest. Rubbing your nipples, harding against his fingers.

His rough hands groped your chest, biting down on your lips. Your swollen clit, being abused with his hand and your chest. You choked out a sob, his brutal pace making you feel weak, your eyes dropping down. Your tongue lulled out, as he fucked into you, biting marks into your neck, chest, and stomach. Gripping onto your waist harshly, tears pricking on your waterline, his hands dancing from the swollen nubs of your chest to your neck, as he lightly presses, making you tense up holding his arm, your eyes rolling back, his hips rutting into you.

Your panting echoed through the room, his pace didn't stop at your tears going down your cheek, your black mascara bleeding through, your lipstick was smeared. Everything on your body was sensitive, "Corio, please—" you puff out, before he flipped you over, your face onto the soft pillows, your hips up in the air, the cool air hitting your pussy.

Before he continued to abuse your cunt, his hips fucking into you, his cock touching parts of you, kissing your cervix deeply, making you wail, the sheet already messy. His hair sticking onto his forehead, sweat dripping down from his body, your well-manicured nails grasping the sheet. "I'm close" He groaned, feeling his hands landing on your ass. Making you jolt, several of them onto the plush of your ass. The pain makes you squirm, your cunt dripping. His arms pulling you into a chokehold close to his chest, feeling hot thick liquid filling you up, looking at your flat stomach filling up your cum. Your doe rolling back at the sudden warm feeling that didn't stop. Before he released you, your body bounced on the bed.

Feeling him withdrawing from you, and cum dripping from you. your body trembling, feeling your legs numbing down. Coriolanus body on top of you feeling his soft member on your ass, "Don't even think about it" He whispered, pushing a strand of your hair over your ears, "I know that's what you planned for" He danced his fingers on your collarbones, 'N-no" you managed to stutter out, "Don't lie my dove, isn't that the reason you follow me or had your eyes on me" He trailed on, "I just missed you, Corio" you lied through your teeth, "Don't lie, it doesn't suit you.." he touched your chin.

"Why did you do it?" You mumbled, "How could I stop, it so hard not to imagine you swollen with my baby" He said, "Besides—

Thats all your good for"