#you're wondering what this mid ass art style is?

[mispatchedgreens]

two idiots and barbie is the getaway driver

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time: Part 2

Please read Part 1 first! G/N. 4.6k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

As far as first impressions go, yours went terribly. Gun can count on no hands the amount of people that have spoken to him like you did and lived to tell the tale.

Make no mistake, the sum total of which is zero. Zero spoke to him like that and lived to tell the tale.

It's like you have no manners and absolutely no sense of self-preservation.

But, he figures, he's finally doing his GED after the whole murderous stint and juvie and light dabbling in gang wars. Maiming a fellow classmate on the first day would leave an even worse first impression with the rest of the class than yours with him, therefore he should really try to behave himself.

Besides, he would never hear the end of it from Goo if he dropped out, or worse got kicked out, so he picked his battles and took your insults as best he could. 

Somehow miraculously managed to hold back from reaching across the screen to give you a well deserved ass whooping when you asked him if he was on the verge of a mid-life crisis. He schooled his face and took a drag of his cigarette instead.

At least, if nothing else, you're entertaining.

You also reminded him that small talk was a thing when you asked what he liked to do for fun. He couldn't remember the last time anyone asked, if anyone even did, although you don't really make this sort of conversation in his line of work and it is hard for Gun to find time to make chit chat with someone as he's usually the one brutally assaulting them in a fight.

And he had such good intentions with enrolling in school again so why not tell you he likes gaming. 

That's a perfectly Normal hobby, right? 

Even as he says those words, they stick in his throat like he's confessing something shameful and it comes out strangled and strange.

He moves on to more familiar territory by reframing his bloodlust as training and martial arts, which also sounds very Normal to Gun's ears.

A few more things that he can barely remember are mentioned to present himself as a very Normal individual and he isn't embarrassed to admit to himself he's pleased with how this has gone.

After all, the majority of his working day is spent with Goo and Goo is, to put it politely, an unhinged dipshit, and their conversations usually also have that kind of vibe. Gun is aware enough to watch his tongue in this conversation with you, and the fact you haven't looked terrified or called the police can only work in his favour.

What piqued his curiosity most of all though, is your threat to kick his ass.

(On Tekken, but still.)

So much confidence in your own ability, so much faith in your skills.

(On Tekken, but still.)

Alas, that night he finds out it's misplaced and you have severely overestimated himself and/or underestimated him.

But still. 

He remains curious about you.

You show absolutely no fear, no ulterior motive, no nothing, in the way you speak to him and seem to have latched on to him rather than anyone else in the class, and Gun is... 

Charmed.

He finds you oddly endearing.

Then when he sees the back of your head as he makes his way into the classroom for the first time and decides to sit next to you, the way you blatantly check him out doesn't hurt either.

People ogling Gun isn't anything new, but what is new is how much he likes it from you.

He makes up his mind to keep his seat next to you. Even if your gaze does linger a moment too long on his hair and makes him wonder if he used enough gel on it when he styled it that morning.

And although you caught him doodling and insult his masterpieces repeatedly - you also balanced it out by helping him with Literature, which truth be told, he is extremely grateful for. He forgives your missteps and your teasing.

Over time, Gun finds that he likes your company. Traits that would be annoying as shit with other people he finds sweet with you, including your unrefined taste in coffee.

As a bonus, you also don't balk at the tidbits of his life he shares. In fact it should really be a little troubling how grey your morals are, how easily you take it in stride for someone that seems like a normal well-adjusted(ish) civilian.

All in all, this never happens. Ever.

Never has anyone held his attention like you do, and for him to test the waters like he has done.

Gun likes to think he has good judgement, takes very calculated risks. This, he decides, is worth pursuing. Exploring.

With not so much a leap of faith but maybe just a tiny hop, Gun opens up his home to you.

.

.

.

.

You think you're in love with Gun Park.

This realisation hits you at 5am, when you're lying in his bed and he has done the gentlemanly thing of taking the sofa. It hits you because only a few hours ago, he had pulled you into his lap, looked at you and held you so tenderly then didn't kiss you.

The fact that he hadn't kissed you, and you're in love with a very questionable person sends you into a mental crisis.

Fuck.

He's secretive enough, letting you in on various elements of his life and you manage to piece together that he can only be up to no good.

There's no shades of grey in his life, only copious amounts of crimson from bloodshed, and a twisted sense of morals and principles he lives by.

You know by now he hangs around far too much with someone called Goo, who sounds like the personification of a headache and annoys him to no end but also seems to be the only friend he has. Speaks too highly of a Charles that you know is shady despite never having met the guy. There's also an Eli that he mentions like he's the one that got away.

You can live with all of that and the questionable amount of hair product he uses.

What you are in fact struggling to get to grips with is:

This man lives in a junkyard. Like some kind of violent, sexy raccoon.

A voice in your head that sounds scarily like your mother, lectures you about prospects and picking a man with no future.

Well, for one - he's back in school.

See mom, you're wrong.

He also seems to do very well for himself despite literally living amongst trash (you handwave away his blood money and unscrupulous methods to earn said money) so that's another point for Gun.

And what sort of person, who lives between piles of scrap metal and discarded appliances, has such a luxurious bed.

You're sure the bedding thread count is in the thousands. Instead of researching the cure to cancer or how to travel faster than light, scientists have researched the comfiest mattress known to man and has created this that you're currently lying on.

So maybe this violent sexy raccoon is actually a prize.

Regardless.

You seem to have hitched yourself quite willingly to this wagon and now your biggest issue, that leaves you tossing and turning into the early hours of the morning, is still-

Why the fuck didn't he kiss you.

And how could he, after sharing such a sweet moment, push you off his lap and kick your ass on Tekken for 5 straight rounds.

What a bastard.

.

.

At some point you must have drifted off to sleep and you awake to the smell of deliciousness.

Something is being fried and you melt thinking your raccoon king is cooking breakfast for you. Who knew he was this sweet and thoughtful.

What is even better though, somewhat masked by the sizzling, is if you listen hard enough, you think Gun might even be humming. Even the perfect bed can't keep you from pressing your ear up against the bedroom door when you connect the dots that he is humming a popular K-Pop song that you have listened to on loop 50 times the week prior.

You yank open the door with force, "A-ha!" and point in his direction, gleeful at catching him doing something so un-Gun like.

Gun, in the middle of plating 2 omelettes, whips his head to you and stills, looking like a deer caught in headlights or a raccoon caught in headlights, rather.

You ask him, with a shit eating grin,  if he's a big fan of the K-Pop group but it drops at his lack of reaction when he just shrugs and responds simply with a yes.

Damnit.

Of course you know it's not really anything to be ashamed of but it's so unexpected from Gun, that would it kill him to blush a little or act a little abashed? You expected something at least a little entertaining from his initial surprise, but you suppose anyone would act like that if a deranged house guest accosted them first thing in the morning after they so kindly made breakfast too.

As a consolation, after the let-down, you double take when you realise Gun had been cooking topless and remains topless this entire time.

In all his muscled glory. Pecs and abs and everything. Delicious broad shoulders and an enticing light trail of hair from below his belly button and stretching down, down, down into his sweatpants.

You gulp, trying to calm yourself down. You know you are staring so so obviously but you can't find it in yourself to look away.

Gun clears his throat as if to say my eyes are up here, and hands you a plate.

.

.

While you still have self control and before you outstay your welcome, you say bye to Gun after breakfast mentioning you have some errands to run.

It's a poor excuse but you didn't taste a bite of that omelette, brain too fixated on the man seated opposite and wondering if what he's hiding in his trousers matches the energy he gives off.

He offers to take you home and you insist on walking by yourself. You reason to yourself the fresh air after such a heady night and all the over excitement from this morning would do you good.

You say your goodbyes at his door, him leaning against the doorway, still unbearably tantalisingly shirtless and enough to distract you from the junkyard setting, with his arms folded and a smirk on his face as you stand there-

Standing and waiting and expecting.

You're pretty sure Gun wants to kiss you. There's a challenge in his eyes and you know he is teasing you.

The fact that you stared at him before like a slack-jawed moron also indicates full well what you would like him to do.

A goodbye kiss isn't too much to ask for (not that you're going to ask) but he continues to also lean and wait and smirk shirtlessly and god, this is the most awful hair-pulling frustrating game of chicken you have played.

For a moment you consider yanking him down and kissing him, hard and desperate, and making your way back inside to the most comfortable bed that has ever existed. For an even briefer moment you consider biting his pec and leaving a ring of teeth marks.

In the end, you can only muster "bye then," and to your dismay, your voice comes out whiny.

There's no hiding your disappointment.

Gun’s smirk grows wider at your tone and he relents and gives a peace offering in the form of a kiss on your cheek.

He pulls you into his body, arm wrapped around your waist and he dips down, grazes his lips featherlight to your cheek.

It's chaste. Impossibly tender and surprisingly sweet.

Damn.

You forget how to breathe and you feel like you're on fire as he murmurs bye into your ear. Later, you'll chastise yourself for letting Gun affect you like this with something so innocent.

You untangle from him and feel your legs wobble when you step off the porch and make your way back home.

Gun chuckles but you don't hear it.

You don't form a coherent thought again until that evening, when Gun beats you on Tekken and in a fit of rage and frustration, you finally break your controller.

.

.

To make things fair, Gun’s dislike of Literature is offset by how knowledgeable he is with Biology.

The human body, to be precise, and alarmingly so. Maybe serial killer levels of knowledge, with how much he knows about organs and muscles and tissues and everything in between.

He explains that it's useful for training, as if that's any explanation at all for his extensive knowledge. However, you've seen his body and heard enough about his past and yes, including his actual training, to realise that it does make sense in a way and you let it go.

Well.

Maybe you would have fought it a bit harder if you yourself was any good with biology but you're not. If he's great at it because he's a serial killer, then fortune favours the bold and you might as well take advantage of it.

Gun is a very very good teacher, which you did not predict and in a way you didn't expect.

His jaw is tense and the grip on the textbook tightens after you get the answer wrong for the 15th time and when you think he's about to whack you with said textbook, he closes his eyes and counts to ten.

When he opens them again, he tries another method with you. Then another. And another.

Truly, you did not think he had this sort of tolerance or patience.

He explains things simply and calmly (though you've noticed he has started to grit out his words). Unfortunately you still find all this theory hard to wrap your head around.

"Are you going to hit me?" You ask.

"Yes," Gun says though he doesn't. He looks more like he's going to ram his head through a wall. Neither happens and he continues to work through the textbook with you.

Hours later, it clicks.

You feel something of a genius even if Gun’s hair resembles a bird nest from the amount of time he has ran his fingers through in exasperation.

.

.

After finding out that you broke your controller, Gun buys you a new one immediately.

He's very generous and kind, you think, and it may be the first time in existence anyone has considered Gun as kind. 

Until you realise he has other reasons for doing so.

That night, and for several nights after too, Gun is merciless when he KOs you. Each match is shorter than the previous.

You register this is payback for the biology stint. It's got to be.

.

.

Nevertheless, because you're the bigger person and you take the defeats on the chin, as thanks and in an almost mirror image of Gun repaying your Literature help, you suggest taking him out for a coffee.

Getting a coffee to-go and hand delivering it would be much easier, but you can't bring yourself to order an espresso for someone even if it is their drink of choice.

You take him to one of your favourite coffeehouses. Somewhere much less lavish than the one he frequents and much more agreeable to your meagre pockets although the coffee is just as good.

"Two espressos," Gun says at the counter.

"One," you cut in firmly, holding yourself back from gagging. If you have to pay for it, you won't be drinking that bitter sludge. You rattle off your usual: a monstrosity made with double-digit syrup pumps and whipped cream and Gun flinches in your periphery.

Despite your insistence, he beats you to the punch and pays for the order anyway. Not before adding a jab that your coffee, if you can even call it a coffee, is the worst thing he has ever had the misfortune to spend money on.

"Try it," you offer, when your drink is in your hand and Gun watches every sip with mounting horror.

"No," His mouth is pressed into a thin line and he looks like he has half a mind to knock the cup out of your hand. He refrains, clenches his knuckles and rests them on his knee.

He closes his eyes and counts to ten.

You watch him, heartily enjoying your sugary drink and sucking noisily on the straw. He twitches and starts counting from one again. You feel a surge of affection.

.

.

Without any other plans, both of you amble together through the quiet streets. You window-shop as Gun smokes next to you and attempts to buy everything that you set your eye on.

You tell him thanks but no thanks and continue to look at pretty trinkets and funky decor. In the glass reflection, you notice Gun fondly looking at you.

"Hi," you smile, turning towards him. He looks more handsome than ever in the sunlight. You don't even mind the amount of gel in his hair.

"Hey," he says, low and hushed. He steps towards you, leaving only a hairbreadth of air in between and tips your chin up to face him with his fingers.

You notice his pupils are blown wide, flickering down to your lips. Gun dips down at the same time you press up onto your tiptoes, and you feel his chest against yours, his other arm winding around your waist, breath fanning over your skin-

This is it, you think, finally.

This, sadly, is not it.

"GUN!" you hear a voice screeching. You both tear your attention from each other to the shrill noise.

A blonde guy in the loudest suit you have ever cast your eyes upon is waving manically in your direction.

"Do you know him?" you ask and Gun's lips are thinner than you have ever seen.

"No."

"GUN!"  The blonde yells again and you raise an eyebrow at your companion.

His face looks pained as he tells you that is Goo Kim and when you ask if you both should go over and say hi, he snaps back absolutely not with a frown.

"Let's go," he says, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you in the opposite direction. Behind you, you hear cackling and Gun hastens his footsteps as if being chased by a deranged spirit.

You don't see the blonde again for the rest of the day although Gun’s phone seems to be going off every other minute. 

The moment you had is never quite recaptured. You can't bring yourself to mind too much though, as Gun never lets go of your hand.

And everytime he catches you smiling at your hand in his, he gives you a light squeeze and returns the smile.

.

.

If you thought school would be all cutesy and you would take turns in helping each other with topics you're stuck on, you're wrong.

Turns out, both you and Gun are equally bad at math.

You watch, face blank, at your screen as the teacher explains algebra. At least, you think that’s what the jumble of numbers and letters are because your ears refuse to make sense of the words.

You search the monitor for Gun to see how well he is faring and find him staring dead-eyed.

Not very, then.

In class, you see Gun's textbook with some attempt at notes in the margin before devolving into his lewd stick men doodles that he still insists are fighting stances.

"You shouldn't cover your page in smut. No wonder you're bad at this." You tease.

He doesn't look at you, doesn't rise to the bait. Simply rebukes, "Your book is blank and you're still shit."

"Asshole," you hiss and his dead eyed stare is replaced with a smirk.

.

.

As it happens, Gun can be very convincing when he wants to be.

A fellow student trails behind Gun in the library, and offers to help you and him out with your lack of mathematical comprehension.

You ignore that the student seems absolutely terrified and keeps giving fearful glances to Gun as he peers at them menacingly.

So what if the convincing involves some light threats of bodily harm or whatever Gun has so charmingly offered if that means you will pass. Didn’t you already establish that you have questionable morals? You’re too set in your ways and there's no point fighting it now.

Neither of you get any further after a few hours, and it doesn't help that the student gets more and more nervous each time you and Gun get a question wrong.

Explanations devolve into stammering and barely strung together sentences as if their life depends on you both understanding basic algebra.

They let out a petrified squeak when Gun snaps his fifth pen in half, noticing he has no more pens and may very well come for their neck.

Maybe he will.

"Leave." Gun commands, pinching his nose bridge when he realises this is futile and the student scarpers off.

"I hate this," You say, dejected, and you watch Gun close his eyes and quietly count to ten.

.

.

As it happens, Gun can be very resourceful too when he wants to be.

The following week, the teacher trails behind Gun to the library and offers to help you both out.

He seems equally afraid, eyes flickering over to Gun, and you choose not to focus on that, instead smiling brightly at his kindness.

The teacher, gripping the textbook white knuckled, breathes a sigh of relief hours later when both you and Gun start to answer the questions correctly and with accurate workings too.

In your mind, you have both learnt something and he has avoided an ass kicking so you're all winners here.

Nevermind the fact that Gun would have been the one handing out the ass kicking. There's no need to focus on such details.

.

.

From this distance, you find a figure chain smoking again. You’re now so familiar with his body language, with his mannerisms, that you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s Gun and clearly there’s also something playing on his mind.

He sucks a cigarette down to the filter and lights up another one immediately after.

You worry about the poor state of his lungs and if he looks like this when he’s only 20, then mid-life will actually hit him hard. His body must be running on fumes. He really should cut down on the cigarettes and the caffeine and get a better night's sleep instead of staying up all night gaming. 

Not that you’re one to talk.

Perhaps it’s due to how he’s on alert for your presence like you are to him, his eyes snap to yours the moment you start to make your way over.

“You ok?” you ask and he gives you a funny look. It’s the same look whenever you express interest in his well being, or any general interest in him at all, and you think poor guy.

“Fine,” he responds, finishing off another cigarette and flicking it onto the floor.

And another thing, he really shouldn’t litter.

You don’t hesitate to tell him so, and as your tongue unravels, you start to also mention the smoking and his health and how you’re worried about him. Yes he clearly works out but all the cigarettes and lack of sleep will take a toll on him eventually.

Gun’s eyebrows climb into his hairline at your words. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you notice that what was supposed to come across as caring is very much coming across as a lecture though you can’t seem to stop.

As you begin to mention the obscene amount of gel he wears in his hair, his expression turns from bemused to sour and he cuts you off.

“You can nag me at mine over Tekken.”

“I’m not nagging-” you start, and then you abruptly stop as your brain kicks into gear and it sinks in that he has invited you over to his again.

Oh right. His.

The junkyard. 

At some point, you’ve forgotten that you’re in love with the King of Raccoons. That this guy willingly lives in a shack in the middle of, what you can only politely describe as, garbage, and you wonder how your life has come to this.

Gun is patient as he waits for your answer and his eyes are warm. It doesn’t sway you though. You want to counter with No. Why don’t you come to mine then you remember his beautiful bed. Yes you’re getting ahead of yourself but if there’s a chance you get to experience it again, sure. You will come to his raccoon den.

You agree and he gives you the softest smile you have ever seen.

.

.

“Shit,” you say, crestfallen and hanging limply.

“Shouldn’t you be used to losing by now?” comes Gun’s voice and you want to bounce the controller off his head.

“Shut up.”

“Your combinations are weak and poorly timed. You don’t understand how to use your characters or their advantages and you have no idea how to counter my moves.”

As the killing blow to your ego and pride, he adds, "You won that time because I let you."

A part of you already knew that yet you still stare at him agape at his audacity. Sitting, manspreading, on his armchair while he casually assassinates your skills.

“I’m not wrong.” He says with a smirk.

“Shut up,” you repeat, standing up.

“I can train you.”

“Shut up,” you stalk over to him.

“Or what?” He sits back to look up at you as you hover over him. Chin lifted defiantly and his eyes daring.

“This,” you snap, gripping him by the front of his shirt and pulling him towards you. You’re sick of losing and you’re sick of waiting. 

You clash your lips together and feel Gun exhale sharply in surprise at your actions. He tenses, for a split second, before he tugs you into his lap and your legs straddle his thighs. His hand reaches under your top, sliding their way across your skin as you grind down. 

“Wait,” he murmurs, pulling away, lips glossy and gazing at you half-lidded. 

He leans back to look at you properly, removing his hand as you subconsciously chase his touch, then with gentle hands, he cups your face and grazes his thumb over your cheek.

The TV screen illuminates his features, light reflecting in his eyes and you find something you only saw an inkling of during that first night, but has grown strong and steady since.

Gun looks at you like he did then -  soft, like you might break. Holds you the same way he had done - tender and precious. 

Only this time, there’s a steeled resolve in his face as he presses your bodies together, capturing your lips against his once more and you melt into his embrace. He’s much more gentle than you were but there’s a hunger and quiet desperation as his tongue swipes over your lips and slips in your mouth.

Your fingers run through his hair, and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it soft. All this time there wasn’t too much gel at all.

.

.

Gun wakes up the next morning with you drooling into his collar bone.

You wake up after the best night sleep of your life - wrapped in Gun’s arms and in the most comfortable bed known to man.

[verai-marcel]

Okay, so i have a request if you don't mind. It's modern AU, and it's fem!reader. She gets dared to go into the boys' locker room (college au or something) and take pictures of the boys. You already have good relations with most of the men. So you hide in the locker, and something happens which leads you to get caught, Arthur (who probably has feelings for you), and the other men, turned on by this they decide to punish you. (ps Sorry if this sounds creepy. if you're uncomfortable just ignore)

Locker Room Lesson (RDR2 Fanfic, AM/JM/CS/JE x Fem!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You are in the photography club at your local community college, and have made fast friends with a group of ladies who share your thirst for a particular group of men who play on the rugby team. When they dare you to take photos of them in the locker room after a practice, you foolishly agree. But what happens if you get caught? 

Author’s Notes: Oh my. I may or may not have seen a few porns for this, and tbh, this kind of stuff turns me the fuck on. Let’s do this. Also, I picked community college because there’s generally a wider variety of ages there. So this will hopefully appeal to you, dear reader! The guys, well, I guess they’re roughly the same ages that they are in the game, so Arthur’s 35, and the rest are in their mid to early twenties.

Tags: gangbang, multiple partners, tropey porn plot, filthy smut, rough sex, doggy style, anal sex, blowjob, double penetration, facial, creampie, dirty talk, modern AU

AO3 Link is here, darlin’.

——————–

Hiding in the men’s locker room on campus was quite possibly the worst idea you’d ever had, but at least you could say you did the dare. When your friends in the photography club had dared you take some suggestive photos of some of the guys playing rugby, you unwisely boasted that it’d be easy peasy.

So now here you were, tucked into one of the bigger lockers, quietly waiting for the men to leave so you could sneak out. Thumbing through the photos on your camera, you had a few good shots of each of them, so at least it was worth your time.

Javier was lean, tanned, a beautiful specimen of a man. His fingers were long and graceful that could play a guitar like an extension of his body. When you saw him in front of the music building, he always smiled and nodded his head at you, and in class, he’d ask if he could copy your notes, claiming they were the best organized. Listening to him play on the campus plaza was a relaxing treat.

Charles was brawny, a beefcake with the strength to block almost anyone who came at him. When he was working out and you saw his back muscles flex, your breath was always taken away. He was quiet, but always helpful; on multiple occasions, he had taken a heavy box or bag from you and walked with you to your destination, no matter how far. It wasn’t like you couldn’t carry it on your own, but he seemed to have a need to help others.

John was wiry, a bit lanky, but had a smile that melted your heart. He was an honest man, even if he was kind of a goofball, and helping him out in math class was a joy, seeing him light up when he understood something you explained. He was always grateful for your help, and he returned the favor by running errands for you for the photography club when he had time.

And Arthur. Good lord, that man was perfect; the broad shoulders, perfect ass, powerful legs. Not exactly the brightest academically, but coming in as an older student, he had a lot of life experience that you could respect. He was in three of your classes, and you only started talking to him because you noticed his drawings during the studio art class.

“Never painted a day in my life,” he had told you, but anything he drew, for whatever reason, was filled with emotion. Even as he got criticized for his technique, the professor always gave him points for “good feeling,” whatever that meant.

Your ears perked up at the sound of male laughter, and you mentally sighed. You got the feeling that you were stuck in here for a while. You started to sort through some of your photos, picking and choosing which ones to keep.

Then the door to your locker suddenly opened. You nearly dropped your phone and stared, blinking at the bright light before your eyes readjusted.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Arthur smirked, looking like a cat that caught the mouse.

You panicked. “Um, just… hiding?”

John, Javier, and Charles appeared behind him. 

“What’re you doin’? John asked innocently.

Javier laughed. “She’s taking pictures of us, idiot.”

Lightning quick, your phone was snatched from your hands as Arthur took your wrist and pulled you out of the locker.

“Hey wait!” you yelped.

“Hmmm… these are pretty good photos,” Arthur mumbled as he flipped through your images. 

Charles peered over his shoulder. After a few moments, he looked up towards you. “You shouldn’t have snuck in here.”

Walking closer to you, Javier put an arm up on the lockers and leaned against it, effectively cornering you. “Who put you up to this?”

You looked away. You weren’t telling.

Arthur chuckled as he handed your phone back to you. “None of us are naked, but pretty damn close to.” He moved closer to you, the other men following suit. You felt like you were being caged in by a wall of meat.

Leaning in, he took your chin between his thumb and fingers. “Now darlin’, I think you need to pay us back for bein’ such good models, don’tcha think?”

“Only if you’re willing,” Charles added.

You swallowed.

John finally seemed to understand the implications and smiled at you. “We won’t hurt you.”

Javier was just quietly watching you, but from the way you were licking your lips, he had an inkling you weren’t against the idea.

It was a little hard to think, having so many hunks right next to you. Were they really offering what you thought? Did they all want to… have their way with you? Together?

Your heart pounded and your libido shot through the roof. You mentally drooled at the thought.

Arthur stepped back, concern on his face. “You can say no, we won’t be troubled.”

“I do, I do want to pay you back,” you quickly said. Biting your lip, you quietly asked, “Are you asking… what I think you’re asking?”

The men all smirked and chuckled.

Charles held his hand out to you. “If you think we’re asking you to give us your body to pleasure, then yes.”

You stepped towards them and took his hand.

***

Guiding you to the nearest bench, Charles sat you down as the other men circled around you. Arthur stood back, watching as John and Javier stood on either side of Charles.

You watched, gleefully, as the three of them took out their cocks. Each one different, each one so mouth-watering in their size and girth. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were.

Charles stepped forward. “Open up, honey.”

You took him into your mouth, and he stayed still as you bobbed your head around his thick member, twirling your tongue around the head. He sighed, his hand resting on your head and petting you. You shivered with pleasure at the feeling of his fingertips running along your scalp.

Your hands were taken by John and Javier, and they each wrapped one of your hands around their cocks. Getting the idea, you started to jerk them off as you sucked on Charles.

“Give us some of that pretty little mouth too, querida,” Javier said softly.

You alternated, giving them each some oral attention, looking up at them as you pleasured them. When it was his turn, Javier looked at you with a dark lust in his eyes. He reached down and caressed your cheek, before grabbing the back of your neck and holding you in place as he shallowly fucked your mouth, a bit dominating as he hummed his approval.

When you switched to John, he just closed his eyes and moaned quietly, his hips jerking forward, his cock nearly hitting the back of your throat. You pulled away, and he immediately apologized. You smiled and continued to suck on the tip of him.

Charles tapped John on the shoulder, and he pulled away from your mouth. You whimpered, and then looked past them at Arthur, who was leaning against the lockers, watching you with a lurid stare.

“Arthur?” you asked.

“I’ll take my time with you later,” he uttered quietly, a dark promise that sent shivers down your spine.

Your attention turned back to the others as they helped you remove your clothes, surrounding you with caresses and kisses as your skin was revealed. Soon you were naked, watching the three of them take off their own clothes so they could surround you once more.

Charles laid out a towel onto the ground and brought you down, laying you on your back. He let your head rest on his lap, his cock hovering near your mouth. You licked the tip, earning a pleased rumble. Javier came around and kneeled before you, touching your knees and spreading your legs apart.

“You look beautiful, querida,” he said as he stroked your center, spreading your love juices around your folds. “Can’t wait to make you sing.”

Then he leaned over you and curled two long, slender fingers inside of you, pressing against a spot inside that made you quiver and pant.

“M-more!” you cried out.

John kneeled beside you and started playing with your breasts. “You heard the woman. Give her what she wants.”

Javier grinned as he took his fingers out and pushed the head of his cock against your opening. You took a deep breath as he entered you, your muscles squeezing him.

“Feels so good,” he groaned as he made it all the way inside. He waited a few moments before lifting his hips and started moving, taking his time, rolling his hips and making sure he was hitting that wonderful spot inside.

Charles tilted your head towards him. “Don’t forget about me, honey.”

You gladly opened your mouth and pleasured Charles while Javier fucked you. John’s hands were on you, squeezing and pinching your nipples, and you reached out to stroke his cock in return.

“Your turn, brother,” Javier said after a while, pulling away from you and swapping places with John.

John had less finesse but more energy as he kneeled between your legs and lifted you up by your hips. He aimed his shaft at your pussy and just thrust forward, slamming inside of you. He was rough, lost in his desire as he just pounded into you, his heavy breathing and his occasional moan the only sounds he made.

You had been licking Charles for so long, that when he moved, you whimpered.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll give you something to occupy your mouth,” John said as he switched places with Charles.

John was as rough with your mouth as he was with your pussy, thrusting shallowly so you wouldn’t choke, but still moving fast, like he couldn’t control himself, desperately driving towards the pleasure your mouth brought him.

Charles played with you a little more than the other two, stroking your clit with his thumb while he teased your pussy with his cock, dipping the head inside and then coming back out, not giving you everything you wanted.

“Please Charles,” you begged. “Please fuck me!”

Charles gripped your hips and slowly entered you, a look of focus on his face. “You’re so tight.”

You writhed; he was not as long as the others, but his girth was almost too much for your body to take. You were glad you were stretched out first.

Javier caressed your clit, and when you gasped, he stroked in earnest, watching you moan around the cock in your mouth. 

“Look at you, such a sexy woman,” Javier praised. “Taking so much cock, you must love this.”

You just hummed in agreement as you felt Charles hilt inside of you. He rolled his hips slowly a few times, and your hips lifted in return, wanting that fullness of his cock to stay inside of you.

“You wanted this?” Charles asked.

You nodded. 

“Never would’ve guessed. Such a bad girl.” His voice was so low that the rumbling vibrated against your body, making you mewl with need. 

“Bad girls get punished, don’t they?” John asked.

You nodded around his cock.

“Get the lube,” Arthur said from his spot against the lockers.

Javier suddenly left, and Charles lifted you up into his arms. Laying down on his back, he grabbed your ass and spread your cheeks.

“You gonna take all of us?” John asked, gripping your neck.

“Yes!” you pleaded.

“That’s right. Take your punishment and be a good girl,” John crooned as he let go of you and pet your head.

Javier returned, a tube of some viscous liquid in his hand.

“What’s that?” you asked, suddenly worried about some unsafe chemicals going into your rear.

“It’s J-Lube. Don’t worry darlin’, it’s safe,” Arthur said, a tone of experience in his voice.

Trusting him with your safety, you relaxed and let Javier squirt some into his hand and spread it along his fingers.

You clenched when you felt him slip one finger into your rear entrance.

All three men began to soothe you. Charles reached down to play with your clit, keeping you distracted, John came around to give you his cock to suck on, giving your head a much needed scalp massage as you did so, and Javier rubbed your back, his finger going deeper inside.

As you relaxed, he squeezed in a second finger, then a third, stretching you out slowly and methodically. You had finally relaxed and gotten used to the intrusion, and started to rock your hips while moaning softly. Javier pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his member. He pushed in slowly, making sure you could take him.

“Just tell us if it hurts,” he told you as he slid all the way into you.

All you could do was whimper and move your hips. You were so full of cock, and it was amazing; feeling the three of them begin to move in rhythm, taking your body, using you as their fuck toy as they ‘punished’ you for spying on them.

You loved it. There was no thinking, just feeling, just being.

And in the midst of that, your climax built up, higher and higher, until Javier slapped your ass, and Charles grabbed your neck while he reached down and thumbed your clit.

“Come for us, sweetheart,” John growled.

“We want to feel you, querida.”

John’s shaft muffled your scream as you came, spasming around them, pleasure bursting through your body like fireworks. The aftershocks kept coming as they continued to pound into you, not letting up for a moment, no mercy on your almost relaxed body.

“Fuck,” John mumbled and pulled back after you were done screaming. “Almost came.”

You let out a soft cry, already missing the fullness of him in your mouth, but then Charles reached up and pulled you against him, one arm around you, one hand gripping your neck.

“You ready, honey?”

“For what?” you asked.

Charles smiled, and looked back at Javier and nodded. You felt Javier leave your body. Effortlessly, Charles wrapped his arms around you and stood up, still inside of you. You squealed with both a bit of fear and excitement. 

Then you felt Javier enter you from behind again, and the two men pistoned in and out of you, holding you up between the two of them.

“You want our forgiveness, honey?”

“Yes, yes!”

Charles and Javier both pulled out of you and eased you onto your knees. Charles stood in front of you, his massive hand on top of your head, his other hand stroking himself quickly.

“Beg for me,” he breathed.

“Please,” you said, big eyes looking up at him. “Please, I’ll be good.”

Charles could only bellow as he came onto you, ropes of his cum dripping from your chin and nipples. Taking a few staggered breaths, he stood back, and Javier took his place, his hand rapidly beating off.

“Say you’re our special girl.”

“I’m your special girl.”

He moaned as he came all over you, sighing your name before leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

“Gracias, querida.”

John came back into your view, and he grinned before grasping your neck.

“Sweetheart, that mouth of yours… give it to me.”

You gladly opened up and let John fuck your mouth until he groaned and came, spilling down your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, and when he stepped away, grinning at you, you grinned back.

Then all of a sudden, Arthur cleared his throat. Everyone looked over at him, and you noticed his eyes were completely focused on you.

“Get yerselves clean again,” he told the others without looking at them. You heard them all chuckle and exit the room, leaving you alone with Arthur.

He pushed away from the lockers and walked up to you. He pulled his cock from his pants and stroked it slowly.

“Lookit’chu, all dirty with cum,” he sneered. “You like bein’ used?”

You bit your lip, and you tasted a bit of everyone’s cum on your lips.

“Look at me.”

You looked up at him. 

“You want to be used by me?”

You swallowed and nodded quickly. Your body burned for him, lusted after him in a way you didn’t realize you could. Sure, you thought he was a hunk before, but he had been friendly, gentle, safe. Right now, he was giving off the vibes of a predator, of an alpha male who would dominate you, own you… 

…and protect you.

You suddenly wanted him so badly that you could hardly contain yourself. You started to crawl towards him, unconscious of how you looked.

A knowing smile slowly spread across his face as he watched you kneel in front of him. You tentatively licked the tip of his cock before kissing it, slowly opening your mouth more and more to take in more of him, until you had filled your mouth full. Pulling back while sucking on him, you released him with a loud pop sound. You looked up and gave him a teasing smile.

“You gonna play with me that way, huh?” Arthur grabbed you by the base of your neck and pulled you up until you were standing, then flipped you around, your back to his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight, his lips biting your neck. 

“Bend over,” he growled, forcing you to bend at the waist, one hand on your shoulder. Your hands shot out to balance yourself against the lockers, and you turned your head to see him looking down, aiming his cock at your wet entrance. He glanced up and kept eye contact with you as he pushed his way in.

“Keep lookin’ at me, darlin’,” he crooned as he entered you. “Wanna see yer eyes when I take you.”

When your head started to droop, he grabbed a handful of your hair at the base of your head and pulled, forcing you to look at him until his hips were flush with your ass.

“So good,” he said softly as he started to build up a rhythm, letting go of your hair to grip your hips. You were lost to the feel of him demolishing your coherent thoughts; all you could focus on was the pounding of your flesh, his soft grunts and moans as he enjoyed what you gave him.

When he reached down to stroke your core, it was too much, and you cried out his name.

Quickly, a hand reached around your mouth, quieting you down as you came around him, your legs beginning to shake.

“Shhh, can’t let anyone else know yer in here,” he warned. Pulling out of you, he kept you upright as he turned you around to face him. Picking you up around the waist, he carried you to the back wall of the locker room, farthest from the door.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded as he pushed you against the wall, angling his hips so he could enter you again.

You wrapped your legs around him, and he grabbed your butt so that he was holding you up as he started to fuck you against the wall.

“Like that, darlin’? Like it when I fuck you hard?”

“Oh god, yes,” you keened, clinging onto him and burying your head into his shoulder.

The sounds of him rutting into you, flesh against flesh, and his harsh breathing combined with your soft moans filled the room. He shifted you slightly higher on the wall and pressed his body against yours. The warmth of his body was a sharp contrast to the cold wall behind you. He angled his thrusts and suddenly slammed into you harder, deeper, and you curled your toes, feeling the ripples of pleasure from your core.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out as your climax bowled you over, and you held onto Arthur for dear life as you spasmed, shaking from the strength of your orgasm.

“Wanna come inside of ya,” Arthur grunted.

“Yes, please!” you begged. 

With a low groan, he smashed you against the wall, holding you tight as he came inside of you, his hips jerking forward occasionally as he filled you full. He whispered your name lovingly, nuzzling your cheek as he came down from his high.

“Darlin’, my sweet darlin’,” he murmured as he slowly let you down from the wall and helped you to the bench. He sat down, with you in his lap, and held you close.

“Been wantin’ to do that fer a long time,” he confessed. “Probably since the second week of last semester.”

You remembered that week. That was the week you had first met him and had a long talk with him at the local cafe, where your friendship started. You remembered finding him attractive, and also, regretfully, decided for yourself that he was out of your league.

“Really?” You couldn’t believe that he wanted you.

“Yeah, really.” He kissed your cheek. “I know this started off… a bit strange, but… would you be interested… in… um… goin’ on a date?”

You blinked.

Then you burst out laughing.

“Yes, yes, of course!” you said after a few moments. “I never thought you’d ask. I thought… I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

Arthur laughed. “Here I was thinkin’ the same thing.”

You couldn’t believe that. Arthur? He was so talented, so friendly, so handsome… he was such a good man, and he thought he wasn’t good enough? You knew you’d have to rectify that in the future.

He pressed his forehead against yours. “I ain’t sharin’ you again,” he said.

You kissed his cheek. “That’s fine. You’re plenty enough for me”

Arthur’s smile was worth the dare.

——————–

End Notes: Oh yes, J-Lube exists. Recommended by a porn star. Remember fam, don’t do anal unless you’ve cleaned yourself up properly and acquired the right lube! Also, I split the sexy time into two scenes because it’s very hard for me to write that many men in one scene, so I had to take Arthur out; I tried at first, but it just wasn’t working, logistically-speaking. Anon, I hope this fulfilled your sex fantasy; it sure as hell fulfilled mine, hehehehehe!