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praeluxius · 2 months

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Red Wine - Karina & Natty

Aespa Karina x Kiss of Life Natty x M Reader smut

thanks to @capslocked & @passingnotions & @friskyriskywhisky

Masterlist word count: 9,957 Kofi

A new girl every week.

Not like you mind it. As long as Karina is having a good time, then that's enough for you. She meets them all at work, and they're all equally pretty.

Of course they are—it's part of the job.

It's just how Karina is—she has always been a fountain of charisma and that's part of what drew you to her—some call it rizz. So, you know all too well how these girls feel when Karina cranks up that natural charm and it leads to her inevitably inviting them over on a Friday evening, an offer they can’t refuse.

A girl's night in. That's what she always calls it—truth or not.

It's a funny thing to call it, given that you're always there. Not that any of them ever complain. You're there. That's okay. You'll join in the chat or stay out of the way—it's all very casual. Most of the time, it’s just that—casual.

Most of the time.

"And then I told him: 'Look, this dress is Dior, and it's worth a year of your rent. So if you think, even for a second, that it's going to end up on your bedroom floor after you buy me a couple of glasses of bottom-shelf whiskey then you can Johnnie-Walk-the-fuck-on-out-of-here because there are a thousand more ways I can spend my night than wasting time on you.'"

The two girls break out into some sort of intoxicated, riotous laughter. The girl with the story? They call her Natty, and she is the latest of Karina's new friends to visit. This one sporting almond skin, eyes with an inky rich hue, thick lips and a smug look on her face that could melt the paint right off the wall, or the clothes off any man.

She has one leg crossed over the other, sitting at an angle towards Karina. The slight canting of her head, the way her black hair cascades over a bare shoulder, all of it conspires together in order to fully reveal her neck line where the loose t-shirt drapes from shoulder to shoulder.

"Yeah, like any dude's got enough bank to buy himself to a night with you." Karina laughs again before taking a drink from her wine.

You are trying to watch the TV, vaguely—your favourite team is on and it's a bit of a ritual for you.

You will never even know we're here. That's what Karina told you. Yet you’ve spent the better part of the last hour listening to them. We’ll be quiet.

As if that's ever true.

They've been reeling off anecdotes all the while, and if you've learned one thing about Natty, it's that she has a lot to say, and a lot if it comes down to either the pleasures, profits, or travails of her career. The stories just keep coming. And each and every one is punctuated by that same laugh from Natty. You have never heard anything quite like it before, and it's that which keeps drawing your attention back to their end of the couch. Much like her voice, it's high pitched, a little nasally and utterly adorable.

Karina laughs along as well; more than a few times a drink threatens to spill onto the carpet because one of them has laughed a little too hard or bumped into one another. Now that would be a disaster: red wine and a white carpet.

"So I got this really nice pink one. It's really pretty, a little sexy, but it's so comfy too." Natty is talking but you don't have a clue what about and Karina, turned away from you, is nodding her head, the ponytail on the back of her head shaking a little as a result.

You don't need to see Karina to know how she looks—as beautiful as ever. That same sharp jaw, high cheekbones and lips glistening pink, hued darker by her drink of choice. Those eyes. It’s always her eyes that captivate.

Her beauty and grace are two things she truly does share with Natty. All the women that come over are all part of the same constellation. Stars in their own right, but Karina is a supernova—or something equally poetic.

Karina says something, but the voice is soft and muffled and lost to you among the animated exchange.

"There's also this blue one. But I don't wear it nearly as much as the others, but it cuts real low. Nearly shows my, you know..."

That lowered voice draws your gaze right over to them both as Natty leans in towards the woman next to her. A gesture and the shape of her voice, the lilt of her accent, makes it sound as if she is being discreet even though you can clearly hear every single word.

"...you know." Natty then tugs a little at her own shirt.

The two giggle again as if they're not grown-ass women; two women who have admittedly drunk quite a lot.

"He loves this one I have, it's part of a set, and I picked it up in Paris last month,” Karina says. “Black and lacy. Super expensive, but it's so worth it."

"That pair would look good in anything," Natty lets out that same laugh again, if a little softer this time, as if the mood shifted a little. You felt this coming all along. If you're honest, sometimes as soon as Karina walks through the door with a girl on her arm, there’s a certain vibe that hangs in the air that tells you it’s one of those nights.

You're stealing glances at the two of them, and it's Natty who's looking towards you, over Karina's shoulder. Your eyes are caught in this awkward collision. Natty holds the stare, her smile shifting subtly from innocent to devilish.

She's a stunner. Even from the angle where you're catching glimpses at her, a glance out of the corner of your eye, there is something seductive and hypnotising.

"He's a really lucky guy." She says to Karina, keeping her eyes fixed on you.

That is usually the cue, one you're very familiar with. A flirty little comment, maybe an innuendo, something meant to test the waters—see where the land lies, the rocks you can stand on before stepping any further out into the surf. It's how so many of your Friday evenings play out. You are just that—an object of curiosity and interest to Karina's friends, and you have to credit the sales pitch she must deliver about you.

"You're damn right," Karina replies with a chuckle as she tilts back the remainder of her drink.

"Do you think he would like mine?"

"Of course, he would. But if you want, I can be the judge." Karina takes Natty's almost empty glass and sets both down on the table. Her expression and attitude—lips and body language—communicate her invitation far more eloquently.

Karina is reaching over and Natty's meeting her hands with her own at the hem of her shirt. A teasing lift and you can already envision what she's about to show. See, Natty's a dancer—you know that much, and a good one at that. That kind of talent comes with the blessing of a body that turns heads. Your girlfriend knew that well too when she had invited her back home.

"Go on then."

The shirt lifts off Natty's skin, with the help of Karina’s hands running up the side of her body, exposing a pierced belly button. You try, very valiantly, to pretend not to be watching, but you can't help it. Natty raises her arms and lets Karina pull off the shirt fully revealing her in her lace bralette. It's pink, it's pretty and a little sexy—just how she described it.

"They really are nice, wow," Karina leans in close and for a moment you think she's going to start kissing Natty right then and there.

Natty doesn't say a thing. She lets the next moment happen, and with their bodies so close you can feel the anticipation, there’s an agonising pause, but, just a moment later, Karina is running a hand up along her belly, cupping a hand over one of her breasts.

"Really nice," Karina repeats the compliment.

And you're all in now. Fuck the TV. You can't peel your eyes away from whatever the hell your girlfriend is about to do.

"Thank you," the girl purrs as she arches her body to push herself against Karina's hand.

A flirtatious hand and those slender fingers of hers begin to move delicately over the fabric. It's a good touch. You've experienced first-hand all the wonderful things Karina can do with it. She touches how she dances—passionate and precise.

"What do you think?" Karina's finally acknowledging you over her shoulder—your official invite to the fun.

"Gorgeous," you mumble, and Natty's smiling like a minx as Karina continues in a way that you should probably be offended. Your girlfriend runs her hands down to the girl's waist, round to the small of her back, and then all the way back to where she starts again.

"Come, take a closer look. What do you think?" Natty follows her words with a wink and a flick of the hair.

"Fuck yes." You whisper under your breath.

"What was that?" Your girlfriend's smirking to herself as you rise from your seat.

"Yes." You take a step towards them both.

"Yes?" Natty repeats, one of her dark brows arching.

"He thinks you're fucking beautiful, sweetheart. Gets a little lost in the moment sometimes." Karina is leaning her head in close, one arm around the girl. She has a finger running up along Natty's slender back as she pulls at the clips holding her bra together. "Isn’t she perfect, babe?"

"Something like that," you confess. You're standing in front of the girls, looking down at the topless Natty, at Karina who's still snaking her hands around her. And Natty looks up at you, eyes wide, inviting, smouldering with passion. She really is something else.

She peers beneath those bangs of hers with a look that says: why don't you sit right here beside me?

"There we go," Karina says and there's suddenly some slack. The weight of her pair is taken by gravity and Natty catches them into folded arms. She sinks back into the couch. You take a step, and taking her lead, you sit by her side.

Karina reaches down, pats you on your leg, then turns back to face Natty. "You were saying you thought he was pretty cute too, weren't you, Natty?"

"Pretty cute, yes. Hot too. Moreso now that he’s up close." Natty says while Karina's got her hands on her shoulders, taking the straps of her bra between her delicate fingers. And then her bra is gone—the last semblance of her modesty lost along with it. Her small nipples jutting, stiffened with arousal, ready and waiting.

"God, he's practically drooling."

"That's hot," Karina comments as her lips descend onto Natty's shoulder and she starts laying kisses up and along her neck, trailing all the way to her ears.

"Sit behind her, babe, let her make it easier for you," Karina says. There is something entirely different and erotic in the way your girlfriend commands you. It’s so often like this, the dynamic, the guest and you are equals but Karina? Karina is a level above, the one in control and setting the pace.

You move yourself further onto the sofa and seat yourself back, then Natty slides over your lap. She takes her place, just as Karina wants, in front of you. The look in your lover's eye tells you exactly what to do, while her hands give Natty some hands-on guidance. Holding her shoulders, she’s placing Natty’s back against your chest.

You lay your own touch on the starlet’s waist, coiling them around her body. Dragging them up towards her smooth tits causes her to respond with a shudder. You keep your touches slow, leisurely, tentative and exploratory, but with no lack of appreciation.

Natty refuses to shy and settles firmly into your body. Karina, meanwhile, sets herself in front of the two of you, resting her hands on Natty's knees. Your beautiful guest parts her legs a little as Karina slips her hands between them, urging her thighs to open wider. Wider until she has to lift her legs over yours.

"Is this okay with you?" Karina is looking up into Natty's face and the woman simply nods."How does she feel?" Karina's asking you now, placing her hands on the back of yours, guiding your touch over her breast into a rougher pace.

"Perfect." The word slips from your mouth, followed by a throaty groan. Among all of this, Natty's ass is against your crotch, the weight of her pushing your manhood to swell and strain against your clothing. You are thankful she's wearing a thin enough pair of yoga pants that enhances it all.

Karina has planted her knees between yours and Natty's legs. She's pulling her own shirt over her head and you already know what's beneath. For all the talk earlier about bras, Karina isn't wearing one; she never does. "Fuck, Karina," Natty coos at her bare chest. "He likes it too. I can feel him twitching."

Natty’s hands are all over Karina as she pulls her in. There’s grace, there’s tension and there’s a coy giggle from Karina as their lips are only inches apart. The hammering of your heart echoes within as you take a front-row seat to their show. It always triggers something inside you when she first lays lips on someone, it always heightens that delicious, tingling, primal feeling.

"Oh shit, girls..."

Your girlfriend's the best kisser and you love watching her like this—exploring another woman's mouth. Natty is matching her tempo beat by beat, kiss by kiss. Her body arches as you squeeze her breasts. You swear Natty's making little whimpers as the two make out.

Her body is all action against you: ass grinding back, rolling slowly and languidly as your hands pull at her breasts—squeezing them together and then apart. You dip into her neck with your mouth. The sweetness of her skin fills your mouth and the richness of her perfume fills your nose.

You lower your lips and gently nibble at her neck, dragging teeth over her flesh until she gasps from a gentle bite and you work your lips on her skin. Tongue roaming as you feast on her taste. Karina's pushing forward now, Natty sandwiched between you, their pairs of tits pressing together with your hands somewhere between.

They break, and Natty naturally moves to your girlfriend’s neck. Karina has her sights set on you, prying your mouth from Natty's shoulder and catching you in a deep kiss. Tongues battling, clashing. There's the familiar fading taste of red wine in her mouth, and the unmistakable flavour of something foreign to you, the lingering taste of Natty.

She pulls away from your lips, staring down the two of you. There's dissatisfaction on her face. "Why aren't the two of you naked yet?"

She pulls at Natty's hips, relieving your cock of the pressure of her sitting on it, and you hold Natty so as to not let her slip too far away. You and Karina work Natty's yoga pants, and her panties, from her hips. They slip effortlessly down to her ankles, leaving her decidedly bare.

No one speaks and you all know this isn't the time to explain anything or ask questions. When her clothing is out of the way Karina descends upon Natty again, kissing her hard and you catch the dying whimpers of Natty's moans into Karina's lips. Karina's hand is snaking down Natty's back, reaching for your crotch. She unbuckles and opens your belt all the time fighting against Natty's movement as she tries to grind her ass back into you.

"Stop moving." Karina giggles into their kiss as her hand delves beneath your trousers. She breaks her kiss again. "Need some help."

Natty's peeling herself away from you, turning to face you. Natty's naked, Karina's halfway there, you're the one slacking. Not for long. Soon the two are tugging away all the unnecessary clothes until all three of you are equally exposed. Your cock stands heavy and ready under their gaze.

"Woah, you weren't lying." Natty's figuratively licking her lips, hungry and wide-eyed, and you'd bet your last dollar she's got an idea in mind. "Can I...?" Natty turns to ask Karina.

"I'd hate to be selfish." Karina shrugs her shoulders and winks. You're transfixed. There's natural magic about the way they move as if it is rehearsed; the way Natty sinks to her knees and the way Karina pulls your hips to the edge of the seat, then rises above you.

Karina hovers and watches, Natty leans in, and then your balls disappear into her mouth. She’s handling them with her tongue expertly as she takes hold of your cock.

"God, what a pro. She wasn’t lying when she told me she knew her way around a cock," she exclaims, savouring every second as the air rapidly leaves your lungs.

It is beyond explanation, the way Natty's tongue is dancing along the underside of your balls as her lips caress each one. Her eyes occasionally flick up and flash mischievously—it's the kind of look that means she could get away with absolutely anything, and there is no way you are going to stop her.

"She's got the face for it, doesn't she? Like she just gives the most amazing head." Karina's on her knees by your side, sliding a hand between her thighs.

"Y-yeah." You manage to reply. "S-so... ahh! Good."

Karina leans forward, cupping one of your cheeks as she looks into your eyes.

"He's speechless!" She laughs, moving a hand to the back of your head and tugging gently at the strands. "Natty baby, give him a few words or something, will you? If you can?"

It's hard to look at her, but you crane your neck and you catch her looking at you again—one hand upon your inner thigh, the other wrapped around your shaft. "That's a good boy," Natty murmurs.

She teases a thumb over the surface of your glistening wet tip. "She loves that shit. Watch her..." Karina explains, smiling, the delight on her face all you can look at for a moment or more.

She guides your chin and you follow your girlfriend's direction, then you see, Natty's taken her mouth from you for a second and she's licking your pre-cum from her thumb; her gaze on the pair of you. She repeats her motion once more and the grin on her face grows bigger as you leak another pearl for her.

"How does he taste?" Karina asks for both of you.

"Delicious." Natty answers—now she's literally licking her lips.

You'll believe anything this woman tells you.

She's running a teasing tongue along the underside of your shaft, and as she reaches the peak, she catches the snow-white trickle you drip right there. You close your eyes in ecstasy, but before long, you’re feeling a finger poke against your lips.

You part them open, letting Karina's two fingers inside, and she's running her digits over your tongue as you suck her fingertips. The taste is so undoubtedly her, nectar straight from her source, your mouth salivating for more.

The feel of Natty's soft plump lips against the end of your cock is incredible as she moves them in an inch, teasing, testing, and then she withdraws just the same and you want to cry out. But you can't, Karina still lubricating her fingers, your tongue swirling around the digits.

She withdraws and your eyes open. And as much as you wanted to see Natty ready to settle her mouth around your cock, she's got something else in mind. She has her tits in her hand. "Are they still gorgeous?"

"Yeah, totally," you sputter.

"Natty girl, let him fuck them." Karina tells her and then she turns to you, mouth to your ear. "You want your cock between them, don't you? Tell her." Karina's not leaving this up to interpretation. "Tell her you want them."

"Oh yes..." you blurt out, without even really thinking. Karina giggles—it's her sign of approval, a tick. "Your tits, Natty. Fuck. Please."

It's not something you haven't done before. You love Karina's pair too, after all. It would be hard for anyone with a dick to resist a pair of round tits like hers. Luckily for you, tonight she's brought you a girl with a pair to match her own.

"He asked so nicely."

"He's a real gentleman," Natty teases and she raises her breasts a little, then pushes them together. As your head slides into her cleavage, she puts her hand around them, and as the skin squeezes the sides of your member, you are reduced to shuddering. Karina knows exactly how this gets you, knows just how this can bring you undone. It doesn't even matter if the actual thing feels nothing like sex—you'll always go crazy over a great pair of tits.

As the tip of your manhood peeks out through the crease between them, Natty lowers her tongue to it and you swear you nearly cum right then. Then the words echo inside your brain: he wants them, Karina's voice and as soon as she says it, your subconscious concedes to the reality.

"Look how easy and willing he is," she says to Karina and both girls giggle, then Natty forms a mock pout. "Such a good boy. I really want to make him feel good."

"He does deserve something." Your girlfriend runs her fingers into your hair as Natty plants a soft kiss onto your cock-head. Instinctively, you reach out but before you can touch anything, Karina's hand finds your wrist. "Tell her what you want."

She's leaning in closer again and Natty looks up from where she's teasing your tip, sucking, tonguing and lavishing affection and attention. "Ask Natty nice. Tell her you want a blowjob. Tell her you want to cum. Tell her what you want," Karina purrs her words.

And god, if anything makes it impossible to think straight, it is Natty's gaze up at you. She wants to make it easy for you, impossible to do anything but give in to your wishes, whether it’s her intention or your deep-seated desire making it seem so.

"Natty... can you suck my cock?" Your mouth's dry and the words grate in the throat.

"Anything," she says with a twinkle in her eye. And now it's all one motion. Her tits clamped against the sides of your length. Your cock drives between them and into Natty's waiting mouth. She's all tongue, bobbing her head a little and taking the tip of you in and out of her mouth.

Karina's all over you—kissing your neck, holding a hand behind your head, caressing, squeezing. "Aren't I just the best? Always doing this for you with all these girls." She's muttering away in your ear. The heat of her breath is constant and burning. She continues with sweet nothings in her deep, sultry voice.

You're sinking deeper into the couch, like you're laid on the shore and the tide is enveloping you. Wave after wave crashing against you, rolling, engulfing you and drawing you out further and further. Natty is pulling you under; every time she takes you into her mouth, wrapping her tongue around you, it's another wave over you. Karina is a life rope. You're grabbing onto the strands of her ponytail, trying to keep your head above the water. All her touches, her words, her encouragement, that's the air you need.

But the torrent grows ever more intense and powerful and the riptide is too great, Natty's drawing the last vestiges of resolve from you. You lose grip of everything—of reality.

You're lost.

Lost in her mouth, lost between her tits.

Karina knows it, she's seen it all before, so many times, for her and others. "Feel like you're gonna cum?" Karina's in your ear asking you the obvious.

Your answer's a growl.

"Cum!" It's a low-roar in your ear.

You don't say a word.

"All over those perfect fucking tits. Her mouth, her face, look at her," and then that's it. You're drowning in pleasure. Every sense abandons you—hearing, touch, and sight, all surrendered.

You can't think or do anything, because every fibre of your being is focused on a single action—pouring out cum. You're rigid and straining.

Your eyes regain focus and you see it all. All of it smearing her tits and just a little on her face, and then more streams erupt. Natty doesn't shy and she doesn't stop. She is milking you for every single drop.

And Karina's ever the encourager, ever full of pride. "Just like that, yes. Empty all of it right there on her chest."

This is her thing now. Has been for a while, ever since she convinced you to try it just one time. Her imagination was fueled by all those dirty little stories she read online about voyeurism and the like. It opened her eyes and redefined your relationship. It started with an experiment. With her best friend, Winter, all those months ago. It was the first time she took enjoyment in her friend getting you off.

Now it's a regular surprise. Sometimes they're girls you met many times before, almost like she was dangling them in front of you, teasing you. Other times it's just like Natty. You barely say a few words to them and before you know it, you're covering them in your cum.

Truth is, you always get the gut feeling when it's one of these nights, as soon as Karina and whichever girl it is start their first drinks of the night; you know it's one of those nights. Then it's just a case of waiting.

Natty didn't take long to get on her knees—she must have been excited.

And lucky for her, you're nowhere near being finished.

Karina is prowling and on the move, towards Natty, and she reaches her with both arms as she locks her into her grasp. A kiss, deep, hungry. All tongue. Seeing is believing; some of you ended up inside Natty’s mouth and now she’s sharing, distributing to Karina. Back and forth it goes between their mouths, with some spilling from their lips. As it’s shared, it’s swallowed bit by bit between them.

"Your turn Natty. I want to watch you cum for me." Karina announces she breaks away, then lapping up what remains on her lips and she has a hand on Natty's chest, playing with the mess you made of them.

You're lying there, spent and watching, as Karina guides Natty to her feet.

"There you go," Karina is pushing the girl towards the couch and she gets to the edge, then places a knee on it. Your eyes drift over her body as Karina bends her into place, her sticky chest planted against the cushions. Her juicy ass is in the air and the light in the room highlights every line and contour. Her flawless curves are accentuated to their perfect best.

"Legs wider, yes, yes. That's perfect," Karina's voice cuts through the air. She's behind her, hand on the small of her back, urging Natty into position. Lower and lower, Natty's head pressed into the cushion; she's turning to look at you, face full of excitement, of yearning.

A quiver passes through her entire body as Karina's lips descend upon her lower back.

Then lower, kissing her tailbone.

Her ass.

Lower and lower, peppering her skin along the way, Karina finally nestles between the two cheeks. Then she places her hands on Natty and starts parting them. "Perfect. Isn't that so perfect?"

Karina doesn't wait for any reply from you.

She doesn't need to. You are fixed there, utterly mesmerised, entranced and completely undisturbed, watching this gorgeous woman lay tongue on her newest conquest. Karina, meanwhile, can't contain her excitement. She's feasting on Natty, lapping at her sex, diving lower and lower with her tongue. "Oh yes. You taste so good."

Everybody's taste is unique. Just as her aroma earlier was something you couldn't put into words or compare, you can only imagine how sweet Natty must taste. And as if she reads your mind, Karina adds to the narrative, "So sweet."

And the sounds.

Fuck. The sounds.

Natty moans, loud, sharp and high. You should have known it, her voice being what it is—the tone; so unique, so unmissable. You should have expected the melodic composition. The pleasure is pure, crystal-clear music. It's perfection in sound. It's the kind of musicality people work their entire lives to compose, to play, to express.

To do all without a care in the world.

With as much freedom, spontaneity and energy as possible.

The tone shifts, and the octaves change. And it's Karina, playing her, burying a pair of fingers into Natty.

There is no question here. The two are in sync. Karina, a performer by profession, plays your guest as if Natty is merely an extension of herself. Your girlfriend, in her element, her playground, her stage and her domain. You are her audience. And she has never sounded, looked, or acted so majestic in her role.

Natty sings a string of profanities, nonsensical and fragmented phrases.

"That good?" Karina exclaims, teeth digging into her butt cheek as Natty spills into the cushion. Her legs quiver. Karina smiles into her ass, nipping her a second time and then she turns to you, staring at you with the same dark hunger, the same thirst, you always see.

"You still with us, babe?" she asks—rhetorical, she know’s you’re fixated. There's no question in her mind. She can read you and she knows how captivating this performance is.

"God yes," you whisper in reply. She's smiling wide.

"Good." That one word response, so laden with meaning.

It's a dangerous smile. It means only trouble. Good trouble.

"Come here," she's beckoning you behind Natty. Your legs feel weak and like jelly, yet you crawl up and behind her, your hand slips up to her thigh, pressing, pawing and grabbing her flesh. She purrs at your touch, and Karina, too, responds with delight.

"Natty," you begin, feeling her ass under your touch. "Do you want me inside you?"

"Mhm. Yes."

Karina slips a hand around your erection, her wet, lubricated fingertips meet your skin and when she says, let me get you ready for her. That alone could have done the job. But, damn, her hand feels so good as it strokes. The motion's just the right pace and when her grip gets tighter, a tremor courses through you.

"You did such a wonderful job already." Her praise is just as nice as her tongue running along the side of your length and then her lips, pursed, locking onto the tip.

"Karina..." it's a long-drawn groan. She lets her tongue swivel over you, each stroke lasting longer and longer. The more she continues, the more feels you grow and get hard—she works you until the last ounce of sanity leaves your brain.

Then she draws away and finishes her sentence, "I told you, you're the best. Now look at her, look how needy she is." Karina's still got a hand on your cock and the other caressing Natty's cunt.

Natty’s now the girl in the center of it all. Her beautiful face turned, eyes closed. She's twitching, aching, longing. She whimpers, and then gasps in desire as you angle your cock at her slit. Her folds open gratefully and the wet warmth of her sex embraces you. Her groans rise again, heightening ever more in the satisfaction as she backs herself further onto your length.

You move, thrusting into her, and she breaks into a tempered moan.

"Oh yes! God, yes."

And you feel a hand grab at your backside, encouraging, guiding, demanding more of you. She partners her touch with an all-telling grin. Karina's about as happy watching you fuck someone else as she is being fucked.

"That's it... You like it like this Natty? Does this feel good to you?"

It's a silly thing to ask, but it still makes Natty stir. It makes her hot—burning hot. As soon as the words are out of her, and she follows with a moan, she becomes tighter around you.

"Ah! Yes, yes, yes..." she trails into several more repetitions as you angle deeper into her.

Your girlfriend is dancing her fingertips over her skin. "So amazing," your lover is still muttering her words. "So fucking hot," Karina says as she tracks her kisses up Natty's back. Gentle kiss after gentle kiss to her glistening back as Natty keeps driving her ass back against you.

There is the unmistakable look of an idea forming in Karina's mind. She's climbing onto the sofa, crawling past Natty onto the back of it, where Natty's head is pressed against the fabric. Natty grows hesitant at the expectation of what's to come, and it allows you to take over. A hand on either side. You're gripping her hips and really fucking her, pushing your cock fully into her and stretching her.

You see Natty's fingers wrapping around the bottom of the sofa cushions in an iron grasp, trying to bear the surge of bliss. She shudders and clenches up as Karina runs a set of nails up her back.

"Yes, baby, you take her, don't be afraid," Karina hisses her words, raking at Natty's back with her claws. "Harder." Karina demands and you pull on Natty's hips, pulling the gorgeous young woman into your hips as you fuck.

Karina's sliding into where she wants to be, right in front of Natty's face, sitting where she rests it. She's handling her like the toy she currently is, pulling her head exactly where Karina wants it, and coercing Natty's mouth onto her. To bury her in and make her satisfy Karina's craving.

And Natty wastes no time, sliding her lips onto Karina, exploring her core the way she has explored her mouth. "Just like that," your girlfriend cries as she rests a hand on Natty's head and rocks back against her. "See, I knew you'd be perfect for us."

You have to admit, Karina nailed it with this one. Before any of the girls even step into the apartment, they know why they're there, but none of them are as ready for it as Natty. It must be a deep, dark fantasy of her own, maybe something she's played out in her mind over and over. It must have been burning inside her before even that first taste of red wine.

Red wine.

That's it. That's how you knew it was always going to end up like this. Fuck, you must be a fool for having missed it all those times before. It's so obvious now that it's when she drinks red wine with them—that's the signal of how the night's going to end. Your subconscious had made the connection, now you realise.

You smile to yourself in the moment of clarity and Karina has noticed, breaking through her moans to ask, "You look a little lost back there, babe. Something funny?"

She's got a coy grin on her lips and her hand gripping Natty's hair, grinding the woman's face further into her pussy. It's a stream of muffled moans from Natty between her hungry licks of Karina's cunt. She's all action between you and Karina's stare. "Nothing."

You raise a hand and spank Natty's ass; the echo fills the air and her cheek ripples. Karina flinches with surprise and she's drawing the young woman further into her body. "Jesus, fuck. Again."

Again and you lay your palm on Natty. Harder. She mewls in pain and Karina shivers in bliss. Her fingertips dig at the younger woman, grabbing her by her scalp and pushing her harder.

A final time you spank her ass, planting your hands and digging your fingers into her soft flesh. Using the strike on your mount to signal one thing; faster.

You're reckless now—manic. Grab her ass and pound; that’s all that is on your mind. You're rabid—not holding anything back. This is the sole reason that girl's here tonight and you're not letting her down, nor Karina.

You hammer against her body, deep into her depths. Her cries echo over Karina's. Each hit a satisfying smack to Natty's cheeks. Slaps and claps and cries. Sounds fill the room. The wet squelch, the grunt of every stroke to the backing track of Karina's rich mewls.

It's a symphony, eroticism on an epic scale.

Your eyes roll upward, over Natty's body and land on Karina. She's bouncing on Natty's tongue. Head back, face creased with pleasure. A grimace so beautiful that you swear it is the definition of raw sexuality.

Natty's struggling; her legs are giving way and she keeps reaching with her hands. To the couch, the cushions, Karina's legs, to anything. There is no steadying her, and it looks like she's barely clinging on for dear life. She has only her waning strength and determination holding her together.

You think she's cumming. But fuck, it is hard to be sure. Maybe you should slow down, but if she is cumming once, better to make it twice. Or thrice. So, you pick up the pace instead. You become wilder, stronger, faster, more forceful.

She's not even eating Karina's cunt anymore—she just can't. You grab Natty's arms and pull her upright so she doesn't slip. Chest to back now—she’s against you and your thrusts drive upward into her.

Natty wails and all the while, Karina is sliding down the couch onto her knees, face to face with Natty. She brings a hand to Natty's throat, grabbing and pushing to pin her against you. And her other hand is sinking between Natty's legs.

Karina's teasing Natty's cunt with the soft caresses of her fingers, and you're sliding between those fingers and into the girl. "Look at you," Karina's saying between clenched teeth, then a loud hiss passes her lips. "Oh, fuck."

A fire blazes across the brunette's eyes—you swear it is an inferno. Fingernails and knuckles are going white in her grip of Natty's neck, and the same could be said of yours holding her arms.

"Oh, Karina!" Your newfound fuck toy screams your girlfriend's name out at the top of her voice.

Karina responds by rubbing her fingers on Natty's clit, then pressing hard, strumming it at a maniacal pace. She's whispering into Natty's ear, words only the girl can hear, coaxing something out of her.

Natty screams again and again. Your name then Karina's.

She's cumming.

Not just that, she's fucking squirting.

Her body's a boneless jelly in your arms as it spasms. And your girlfriend just won't stop her mischievous act, not a single pause until she's dragged more from the young beauty. She's dragging her second and then a third eruption.

It pours. It flows. Eruption is exactly the right word.

Natty's spraying onto your cock—

onto Karina's fingers—

down your legs—

on the couch—

everywhere.

You've got an ardent geyser in your grip and her voice cracks, the climax too much for her, for any of you.

In a flurry of a moment, Natty falls, slipping from your grasp and collapsing and sinking against Karina's chest. Limp. Saturated and dripping, sweat and cum.

The girl has come undone.

You've slipped out of her, set her free, but you're ready to burst. Staggering behind her, a mess and almost drunk on sex, you catch your breath. "Karina... I..." you begin.

"Look at the mess she made." Look at the mess she is.

Karina's laying the girl down to the side; Natty is almost lifeless aside from the aftershocks still tearing through her.

"Karina..." you try again. "Karina, please..."

"Come here sweetie," and that's enough. You sink to your knees on the edge of the seat. Karina's in front of you, grabbing at your erection and lying back. You're collapsing over her, propping yourself with an arm. She's pulling at your cock. It doesn't take much and you're about to fire.

"Please Karina, please" you growl and Karina whispers back the sweetest reply, 'I love watching you do this'.

She's tugging your cock, aiming it at her wet cunt, freshly eaten.

Then your legs grow heavy and stiff, it's impossible to move, muscles tense, locking your body in place. Karina's jerking your cock and it's impossible to hold it.

Release.

It comes.

You can't explain, words can't describe it, the sheer, earth-shattering and mind-numbing rush as it pours. Spurt after spurt, you feel it all come out, and through your hazed vision you're watching it pour over her cunt. Some on her abs, some on her thigh, but most of it coating her pussy. It is all you want to see before you fall, slipping onto her, your head in the nook of her neck. Her words are just a noise in your ear.

"Stay with us," it's her soft voice that you feel vibrate in your ears as her chest rises and falls beneath you. "Natty? Darling, you too."

There's this moment of near silence. Three sets of heavy breaths.

There are things you know to expect before long, but in this space between you don't really know where it'll go. It’s all wild in the night.

"That was... fuck. Intense," you begin, laying the seeds to push the three of you to the next course, "Wasn't it?"

Karina's responding with a push at your shoulders, making you look at her. Her features, still so sharp, she's still so elegantly composed, the dark and playful look hasn't left her eyes. Her smile endearing. "We're not done," she begins, a whisper into your mouth as you lean over her.

Hand grasping your cock, firm, and she’ squeezing a drop or two more out. "I want you inside me." She demands it of you, of your spent dick. This is always the danger. You're just a single cock in a game that demands more.

It hurts as she rubs your cock. No matter how gentle her touch, it feels rough and you wince in her hold, it's raw pain and all you want is to draw back, but you stay. You have to stay. You want to stay. Refusing to let the pain, the momentary sting and discomfort end it. "Give her what she wants," it's Natty's voice, from beside the two of you. Who knows where the young girl even got the strength?

“Please,” It’s rare that Karina pleads, but her mouth is on your ear, nibbling softly. Her hot tongue traces the shell of it and the whole motion gives you a shiver that makes the hair stand on end. "Come on." She coaxes in a sultry, yet playful, sing-song voice. It makes her intentions unmistakable.

You draw your body back and rest on your knees, looking at the two girls, side-by-side, one melting and the other keening. Your heart is still trying to get out of your chest, but somehow the sight of them has calmed you. They make it all feel a little easier.

"I'm sure your cock can still work for me," Karina's words are undisguised lust.

Natty reaches a lazy arm, working her fingers into the cum you left on Karina's body, playing with it. She begins painting Karina's belly, streaking it over her skin. "So much," she purrs, adding a moan as a compliment, her tone soaked in desire.

Karina takes her own finger to it too, dousing it in your fluid before taking it to Natty's lips. It's a question that goes unspoken, not one word, one command, just a mere motion. Natty's reply is perfect; she opens her mouth and accepts it eagerly, slipping her tongue onto Karina's digit and suckling it.

Natty returns the favour, her finger into Karina's mouth. They're both sucking, tasting, swirling their tongues as you watch, drinking the liquid, gulping it down, savouring the taste. Their eyes locked in an impossibly sinful gaze. Neither can bring themselves to break it.

They only give in and finally end it when their bodies move instinctively, rolling in to a desperate kiss. Mouths together, sharing the fluid back and forth in a series of dirty, noisy kisses.

Natty's running her hand down Karina's body, running it through your cum and heading right for her cunt. One finger sinks inside, met by a silent whimper from Karina and a second finger joins the first as the girl's now twisting inside your girlfriend. She draws in and out, each time pulling more of your cum into Karina's hole.

And your cock, exhausted moments before, now wants to wake. It's stiffening, not too far from hard once again. You're a moth to a flame and Karina's burning brighter than ever.

Natty's insatiable thirst is getting the better of her and her finger fucks your lover relentlessly.

Karina's mewl of satisfaction turns into a blissful howl. And when you climb between the girl's legs, finding them parted, you grab her behind the knees. Karina moans once more when you move to slip her ankles over your shoulders and Natty is forced to concede. Your stiff shaft, the one Karina has yearned for, drives into her.

Karina absorbs you, clinging, squeezing, and she holds you, embracing you. Her body is soft against yours, yet inside she's hotter than molten iron. She's even wetter, every slick and intimate part of her is grinding against you. "Yes, fuck yes," she's slurring, muttering nonsense.

She's a fucking mess between her legs—there's some of Natty's, there's some of hers, and there's a lot of yours down there, and you're fucking it all into her as lubricant. Natty's forced to watch as you're pressing Karina's knees up to her chest. She's riding the edge between pleasure and pain and enjoying every bit of it.

And there's no better feeling than when you press her even closer, and now her ankles lock at the back of your neck. Every thrust from you forces her ass to rise from the cushion and her cheeks meet your hips in a way that resembles Natty not long ago. Her tits are pressed almost flat under the weight. She is so open to you—so, so willing.

Her thighs tremble. Her hands claw. She's losing everything inside herself, everything but the one thing she wants most, a violent orgasm.

It's Natty's turn now, a role reversal, as she tries her hand at the encouragement, the guiding partner, "Harder," her first order. "Deeper," her second. Both punctuated with her nails scoring along your flesh. And in an act that's so entirely Natty, she's now spanking your ass and laughing as she does it. She's playfully flirty and full of giddy enthusiasm.

"Faster." Natty's clapping her hands and she's watching your thrusts drive Karina wild. Every stroke, every strike, all of it Karina is crying out for. Every push forward makes her twinge, a sensation, a mix of pleasure and pain, each jolting through her. "God, isn't she great to fuck?"

"She's the best," you groan, struggling to reply with the only response you can formulate. She is, of course, better to fuck than anybody else. There's no question about that.

"And you," Natty turns to her, "are you going to cum for us now?" Karina's hair sways. Her mouth is full of cries and whimpers. Every roll of your hips, every pull back and every plunge into her pussy steals every breath.

"Yes," she says. "Fuck yes. Right there, baby. Don't stop."

Natty relaxes to enjoy the show. She can see your shaft thrusting. She can see it when you withdraw, almost the full length and then every inch into Karina. Each time, your girlfriend's body jiggles and twists and writhes.

Karina's face grows contorted. A contortion of pure delight.

It's what Natty's been waiting for. Watching. The expectation she couldn't express. The feeling inside her core growing.

"Oh. God!" Karina squeals. She's seeing white spots explode in her vision. A flash of colourful patterns swirl in her head. The white heat rises higher and hotter, so high and so bright it consumes her. She's gone in it. Next comes a sound following a deafening gasp that stops the air dead in her lungs, the release as an equally loud scream.

You hear it, and the heat burns inside your ears, as if sound could cauterize. Every cell of your skin sizzles. It's electric, this passion.

Her cunt turns to water and floods. Your cock is saturated. That's all the reason you need to lose yourself. To slip back and slide yourself deeper into her, pumping. Her eyes squeeze shut and a loud, sonorous gasp is swallowed by her lips. She's never seemed sexier. She is utterly engorged with desire.

"Ah! Ah!"

You know Karina's at her limit. A dire need for respite, for air to fill her lungs—for relief.

You know what you're going to do. Natty is oblivious, so when you pull out of Karina, and slide over Natty—who's lying on her side facing Karina—it catches her by surprise. One that brings a look of elated shock to her face. You push up one leg and mount her from the side, driving your cock into her.

Karina's drowning in air as she opens her mouth to take all she can. Her vision clears. It focuses on Natty.

The young woman is caught, once again, and in the best way possible; she's lost and helpless beneath you, she has to clutch and clasp whatever's available—the cushions, her own arms—and take it. She's face down to the couch; her body twisted. Her tit's pressed underneath her but her waist rotating, one knee pointing at Karina and one leg straight between your own.

And Natty has taken this all in stride. She's dug her nails into her own scalp, grabbing at her hair. And there is no uncertainty or indecision within her body, nor in her mind. She revels in her vulnerability. She loves the feel of you inside her. Loves the thrill that floods through her entire being as you dominate and ravish her.

Karina makes her move. To join Natty, she slides in on her side, lifting Natty's leg over her own hip, turning Natty fully onto her side to face her. You relent for a moment and Karina does what she needs to. She pulls her own leg up under Natty's and hooks it around her ass. The girls pull each other close. Pull each other into a kiss. Their mouths together. Their breath shared.

Karina whispers, but loud enough you can hear her, and says, "Told you," and her words are all wrapped up in a smirk, the smile of satisfaction.

You slap the length of your cock against Karina's ass; teasing her but not sliding into her. And only when Karina has worked herself up even higher do you lower yourself and slide in, penetrating, filling and stretching.

You're fucking in and out of her. This might be a new favourite of yours. The girls tangled together, sharing kisses and bites and tongue. Both their holes are there for you—each available whenever you want it, and each is only a hair width apart.

It's hard for you to keep a focus on everything like this. But you fight through, burying your shaft inside Karina. Once, and twice, and a final time again. And it's ever so easy to just drag yourself out, driving it between their cunts for a few short pumps and then slip it up into Natty.

"Fuck. I wish we'd done this sooner," Karina is mumbling more, but her words are rolling together and coiling into nonsensical verbal splashes of pure want and need.

Natty strains a response, "I'd... love... to... join you. Often."

"Perfect." Karina is happy as she shifts, arching her body to make a point, to tell you who to fuck now.

And you slip, and then you're inside Karina. As easy as that. Buried as deep and hard as you can, she's mouthing a silent cry and her hair falls over her face.

Natty's got a handful of Karina's tit now, caressing her nipples. It's hard not to envy the beauty that's in her hands. Soft, round, pert, perfectly curved, her breasts are works of art, beautiful beyond anything you could ever put into words.

And all of a sudden, Natty has shifted from Karina's mouth, planting her lips on Karina's soft pillows. Natty is suckling at them and Karina's mouth is twisted open in a soundless gasp, then she speaks, "I could do this forever."

Her arms draw along Natty's body until she finds her ass, slipping down and around, and then her fingertip sinks between her cheeks. It makes Natty lurch as it caresses her taint, presses lower, and touches her tight rear entrance.

Then she does it, a manoeuvre only the confident would have considered, a twist and she's pushing a slender finger into Natty's ass and causing the girl to nip at Karina's breast. "Fuck," Natty hisses, giving a breathy shudder. And her reaction draws a grin onto Karina.

And they keep going like that, they are perfectly attuned to each other. And you swap again, seeing the opportunity to really punish Natty. You're angling towards her again, sliding into her soaked cunt.

You push up inside her. With no time or inclination to start gentle, you're instantly fucking her fast. In and out, hard and deep, over and over, you hammer her cunt. She's muffled with a mouth full of Karina.

"How's that Natty? Both your holes are ours." It's Karina, whispering her dirty words again, "tell us you're going to join us again. Tell us."

Natty nods her head against Karina's chest. It's not a verbal answer. But it's an affirmation that, fuck, yes, she'd like that—as would you all. You could have this again, and maybe soon, a replay with a fresh twist.

Maybe next time you can be the one inside Natty's ass. For now, it's Karina's finger working her, and it looks fucking amazing as it drives into her and withdraws in the exact same rhythm that you're giving her.

You both keep the pace, driving Natty into nirvana, and at some point, it's clear when the climax hits. But it's an awfully hard thing to gauge the passage of time while being wrapped and caught and tangled with these two vixens. All you know is that all too soon, your balls are beginning to churn.

And that's when you switch back again, driving into your girlfriend's cunt with no time for a rest.You're going for broke. Slamming yourself fully inside and Karina knows the instant you do what your fate has become. She laughs and squeezes Natty, pulling the girl tighter.

It's only natural that the rising tide, the bubble of the climactic force, grows and grows and grows. Your ears pound in the beat of the blood racing and your breaths come in fits and starts. The noises escaping your three mouths become louder than before, more frenetic, more unchecked. More lustful.

"Karina— I— Natty—" You're losing the fight against your own body. The rush, the pressure, all the sounds, sights, and smells have put the signal in the green. There is no stopping it. No controlling it. It's all building, coalescing, into one pinpoint of space and time, right there between their legs.

Karina's pulling Natty into position as you're pulling out of her cunt. They both turn to face you, their cheeks pressed together, tits too, and their legs in a knot. They're lying in such a manner that they feel to you like an oasis in a hot desert, inviting, like a promised paradise, and it's calling you, tempting, and you can't hold yourself any longer.

You're rubbing yourself over the edge, and they're calling out to you in a desperate tones, still riding some faint traces of orgasms, "On us."

"Go on."

"Please cum on me, on us."

"Cum for us."

You barely hear their calls, and there's no fucking way you know who is saying what. It's just words of need spilling from two filthy mouths.

It takes only a handful of seconds, and then it happens.

With a harsh spasm from head to toe, you feel it shoot forward, ripping free from your body, and pulsing as you paint their flesh. Spurts and ropes and slivers shoot up and over the girls. A little on a thigh, on their bodies, over their tits and all the way to their pretty little faces.

They're smiling like idiots as you cum. They're proud of it. They relish it. Natty's tongue moves around inside her lips, just getting another taste—a droplet or two. Karina's teasing as always, "Is that all?"

You're still forcing every drop out you can, the final bits dropping to their thighs.

"There's no way that's all of it, huh," Karina continues to tease. And then it ends, and your body lets go and you fall beside them. You simply can't stand any longer.

"I think that's all of it, Karina," Natty's giggling to herself. She's twirling her fingers over Karina's nipple, playing with the rope of cum that landed there. And Karina is humming out an almost silent cry, twisting under the touch. "Here, taste," and the offer is clear, and again Natty is surprising you.

She offers her own tit to Karina, willing her to lick your cum from it. And the act brings a gleam to Karina's eyes as she cups it, bringing it to her mouth to taste. She's sucking and licking and Natty's gasping at the sensation, and at the way Karina nibbles just a little—just a little too much for it to be painless.

You're laying and watching in awe at the debauchery of the scene and wishing you could watch it forever, or at least capture it. The girls are just lapping at each other now, filling their mouths with your seed and swallowing. Laughing. Panting. Moaning. Sighing. Gasping.

Their limbs tangle. Their tongues too. And it's then you realise, no matter how drained you are—completely fucking bone-dry—these two aren't even close to finishing. There's still a show to be enjoyed yet.

You shift just a little to find the most comfortable view, and Karina's taking control now. Slowly she rolls Natty onto her back, their legs still tied, in such a way that Karina can mount her. Natty's got a playful smile across her lips, looking up, seeing the glistening of cum and sweat shining against Karina's neck and cheeks and mouth, her entire gorgeous face soaked in the stuff.

Karina's getting rougher, her nails cutting into Natty's skin. A hungry bite here, a nip there, another scratch here. She's threatening to draw blood as red as the wine she drank. Right on the edge of true pain, but Natty's relishing it. Her eyes roll back, and she lets out a small squeal. And you watch her buck and writhe.

Karina grows ever more forceful—pinning her and keeping Natty in place. She's starting to drive her hips against her. The desire is clear; she wants Natty to a delirium.

You can do nothing but marvel at the sight. You may be raw, you may be sensitive, but you're here to enjoy the show that may yet last a whole night.

"Me and you now, Natty. Are you ready to cum for me?"

"Yes," the whimper slips out of Natty. "Yes, anything for you."

#karina smut #kpop smut #male reader #kpop fanfic #m reader #natty smut #kiss of life smut #aespa smut #karina x natty #girlfriend!karina #kpop fanfiction #karina x reader #natty x reader

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blackleatherjacketz · 11 months

Text

Mouthy

Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader

Summary: Miguel has been watching you, and is willing to do anything it takes to get you to join his team.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, NSFW, Explicit Smut, Teasing, Flirting, Kissing, Biting, Blood Drinking, Licking, Thigh Riding, Undressing, Voyeurism, Female Masturbation, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex

Word Count: 2.6k+

Read more of my MIGUEL stories!

You had been toying with Miguel all night, sparring with him until your sweaty session had resulted in swinging from rooftop to rooftop, leading his tour of your world to an end at the top of your apartment building. Three separate visits to your universe in the span of two months had led you to believe that he was getting desperate for help, or for something else. The first time he showed up was to help you battle one of the more formidable foes of your crime-fighting career, the second to ask you to join his group of heroes to fight off even bigger threats, and the third, well… you’re still trying to pin down.

If Miguel is anything, it’s persistent.

“Give up already?” He chides, denting the metal of the AC unit with his landing as you finally stop swinging.

“Who’s giving up?” You pull the mask off your sweaty face as his head piece disappears without a trace, revealing his gorgeous features and flowing raven locks.

“It’s only midnight,” he points to his watch as he walks toward you, those hips of his sauntering in a way that nearly hypnotizes you on the spot. “Plenty of other threats around the city to be squashed.”

“Then go squash them.” You challenge, tilting your head to look at him from another angle. Why can’t men in my universe look like him?

“You’d like that, huh?” He keeps advancing until he stops just short of you, his broad shoulders towering over you as a light breeze blows the smoky scent of his cologne into your nostrils. As if you hadn’t already committed it to memory. “If I did all the work?”

“Well, you can’t blame a lady for wanting to know if something’s worth her while.” You tease as he closes the space between you, backing you up against the rusted metal door of the stairwell. “Because if we’re being honest, Miguel, I’ve thought long and hard about it, and I’m perfectly fine here on my own.”

“I can see that.” His irises glow a fiery red against the white sclera of his eyes, searching your face for any hint of doubt or deceit. Your senses had been telling you that he wanted much more from you than just a teammate, the sound of his pulse quickening whenever he looked at you barely louder than the silence of his stilled breath. He wanted you… needed you almost as carnally as you needed him, and it was getting to be more difficult for either of you to ignore it.

“But don’t you want to be more than ‘just fine’?” He plants his palms against the brick structure behind you, his direct proximity tying a knot into your stomach as the night sky behind him somehow bleeds a passionate crimson hue. You can visibly see his intentions, actually feel the desire as it emanates out of his pores and into the hot summer air, drawing you in with its magnetic pull. “Don’t you want to be amazing?”

“I can tell that you do.” You smirk, prolonging your trance as you trace the bright red outline of the spider on his chest, watching it rise and fall faster with each word you speak. “Not everybody wants what you want, Miguel.”

“Is that so?” He leans in close, his full lips brushing against your ear as the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. “Is that why you moan my name at night every time I leave your world?” He slides his knee swiftly between your legs, gently lifting it up the crevice of your thighs until it rubs that sensitive spot between them.

“You’ve been watching me?” You knew that he’d been keeping tabs on you from whatever little hideout he had beyond your known universe, but you didn’t realize that he was paying that close attention to you. How much of your behavior had he actually witnessed? Was he speculating, hopeful, or had he actually watched while you slid your fingers beneath your underwear to satisfy that sudden urge his presence always seemed to evoke?

“You’re surprised?” He jeers confidently, his breath hot on your neck as he draws out a groan from your chest with another brush of his thigh, tapping into your natural moisture.

“That doesn’t really seem fair,” you start, eyes fluttering to catch glimpses of that scarlet sky phasing in and out of black and magenta as he continues to stimulate you. “You get to see all of me, but I don’t get to see any of you.”

You wonder just how far he took his viewings of you late at night; how many times he tuned into his recurring guest appearances in your imagination before you pleasured yourself into a dull, blissful slumber. Had he joined you in your handiwork, stroking himself in tandem, worlds apart, just in time to mutter your name with his release before the connection was lost? Or had he stayed tuned way past your loss of consciousness, hoping to hear some verbal confirmation of his presence even in your dreams?

“We can change that, you know.” He closes his eyes as you run your fingers through his hair, his thick lashes feathering over the shell of your ear as he presses a kiss into your neck.

“You’re gonna let me spy on you when you jerk off, too?” Your breath halts as he tastes the skin behind your ear and underneath your jawline, his teeth nipping at your pulse to make you pay for your quippy retort.

“Aye, cariño, are you always this mouthy?” He grabs onto your chin in a failed attempt to reign you in, the tips of his protracted claws nearly breaking your skin as he thrusts himself against you.

“You have no idea.”

—————————————

Miguel manages to stumble into your apartment with your legs wrapped around his waist, his clawed hands grasping at your thighs as they desperately cling to his hips. He pulls you up into him as he rounds the corner past your couch, his erection stretching the navy blue fabric of his suit as it grows harder against the drenched mound between your legs.

“You fucking taste like heaven, you know that?” He whispers through a dozen hungry kisses, the sharp sting to your skin and the iron of your blood flooding your senses as he bites down onto your bottom lip, wantonly sucking it into his mouth. That twinge of pain that would have hurt before you got your powers is nothing more than a scratch, a mere tickle as the warmth of his tongue soon counters it. He tugs and pulls every bit of flavor he can out of it, savoring each hint of salt and remnant of coffee on your tastebuds as he nearly gnaws your lip right off in the process, running into every wall along the way until he eventually reaches your bedroom.

“I thought you said those things were venomous.” You worry aloud, just now noticing their size and severity as he tosses you onto your bed with a lick of his lips.

“Only when I need them to be.” He grins and helps you peel your suit off your arms and torso, tugging it down past your hips and thighs before stepping out of his own spider suit with unmatchable ease. Eyes ravenous with lust, he watches you pull the last bit of stretchy cloth off your calves and feet, licking the tips of his fangs again as you toss your costume onto the floor.

“Well that’s lucky for me, then.” You sit up and press your knees into the mattress in order to get closer to him.

“Lucky for both of us.” He slides his thumbs beneath his boxer briefs and exposes what he’s working with, stealing the very breath from your lungs. Before you can comment on how big he is, before you can make a joke about how you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, he steps toward you and places his hand in the middle of your chest, pushing you flat onto your back.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs sternly.

“What?” Your brow furrows. Hasn’t he gotten enough of that through his viewfinder? Wasn’t that the whole point of him coming here in person? To actually touch you with his own hands and taste you with his own mouth? So that he didn’t have to just watch?

“I want you to touch yourself like you do when you think I’m not watching,” he reiterates, standing his ground as he resists the temptation to stroke himself, a single droplet of precum leaking from the tip of his cock.

“Oh. Okay.” You nod, his demanding tone of flattery quickly fueling your actions as it overpowers that inherent sense of stage fright nagging in the back of your head. “I can do that.”

You watch him hold his breath as you slide two fingers into your mouth, sucking on them as gratuitously as you can before pulling them out with a long trail of spit leading down your chin. His eyes follow your digits with rapt attention as you bring them down your body, their deep ruby hues darkening to burgundy as his pupils begin to dilate. You hear his breath hitch as you graze over your hardened nipples, snake your way down your navel and finally smooth them in between your soaking wet folds, exciting the sensitive neurons that have been begging for attention since the moment he arrived.

Doing as you’re told, you spread your juices up and down the length of your lips, catching a glimpse of his cock twitching against his stomach in anticipation, throbbing as you slowly pull upward on your clit. You can’t help but wonder how amazing he’s going to feel once he’s inside of you, your fingers barely able to do his length and girth any justice as you slide them inside your walls.

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” he finally exhales with a hint of a moan. He retracts his claws with a bite of his lip, cautiously touching your bare feet with the palms of his hands before slowly spreading your legs apart as he continues to watch you work. “Who knew your pussy’d be just as pretty as your face, huh?”

You huff in exasperation, too stunned to speak as his grin mimics your smile from the edge of the bed.

“You look even better from this angle, you know that?” Another lick of his lips spurns a trail of kisses onto the balls of your feet as he crawls between your legs, sucking little bruises into your calves and behind your knees; mementos for you to remember him by once he inevitably returns to his own world. You keep rubbing your bud up and down as he advances along your body; his lips, teeth and tongue massaging the skin of your inner thigh as waves of pleasure start building up into your core from both of your tantalizing efforts.

It isn’t long before he lifts your leg up over his shoulder, biting into your thigh once more before looking up at you with completely blackened eyes, your blood now staining his lips as it smears across his cheek. You moan as he takes his time lapping up the scarlet fluid as it mixes with his saliva, dripping down between your crevices as his mouth gets that much closer to your needy center.

Without a word of warning, he grabs onto your wrist and carefully pulls your fingers out of your swollen heat before encircling them with his lips. Those charcoal eyes of his roll back into his head, a deep guttural groan vibrating around your fingers as his tongue surrounds them, the savory flavor of your blood now blending in with the sweet tanginess of your sex. You push them in even further past his blood-stained lips, shivering in arousal as he sucks all the way down to your knuckles, making a sloppy show of licking them clean before finally drawing them out.

“Not so mouthy anymore, huh?” He asks, kissing the palm of your hand before lifting it up and placing your wet fingers into his hair.

“Uh-uh,” you whisper, the heat from his breath sending phantom pulses of bliss up through your spine, leaving you practically speechless.

“Then let’s see if I can get you to make some noise.” He licks a stripe up the length of your folds, choosing not to use his fangs on your most sensitive area as he focuses solely on tasting your raw flesh. He groans into your skin as he licks you up and down, inhaling your pheromonal scent as if your very essence is the only thing capable of sustaining him any further.

Your eyelids fall shut as you allow a few breathy moans to escape your lips, his tongue saturating every receptor you have with such an intense euphoria that it forces your hips to buck up into his mouth. Your grip on his onyx locks tightens as he continues to suck on your clit, pulling it taut into his mouth just like he had with your bottom lip, persistently eating you out like a man starved for days.

“See how good you are at following my orders?” He stops licking you just as you’re on the brink of ecstasy, a thin ring of red now glowing around the rims of his irises. “I just need you to do one more thing for me.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” You barely have the capacity to ask, your muscles vibrating beneath him with the promise of release that he so quickly took away from you.

His full lips curl into a smirk as he licks your bud one last time, kissing his way up your belly and breasts before reaching your neck, his cock needily bobbing between your legs until it slides inside you without ceremony. You gasp as his girth fills you up with impeccable ease, your slick walls welcoming his thick throbbing member, clenching down around him as he gently thrusts up into you.

“Miguel!” You shout in a stifled whisper, stars shining in your eyes as the tip of his cock hits that bundle of nerves he’s been teasing all night.

“Come for me,” he growls against your throat, all traces of that controlled man fading away as he pins your wrists to the mattress before bottoming out completely, rutting into you repeatedly like a wild animal.

“Mmm hmm!” Your moans echo off the walls in your bedroom as he drives himself further inside your heat, ricocheting off your nightstand and ceiling fan until they dissipate into the air above you, falling down like raindrops as they cover you both. His hips only quicken their steady pace the deeper he gets, sending hit after hit of white hot bliss up into your core until your body can no longer take it.

That wave of pleasure you’re so used to delivering yourself nearly takes you out completely as it washes over every inch of you from the inside out. It paints every cell in your skin, muscles and bones all the colors of the rainbow under Miguel’s hypnotic thrusts, his sweat dripping down onto you in tiny translucent beads before melting into your skin. Both of you phase in and out a variety of shades and patterns as you wrap your legs around his hips, drawing him in to make sure he feels the heightened state of nirvana he’s finally brought you to.

“I can feel you falling apart around me, cariño,” he whispers into your shoulder, thrusting one last time as hard as he can as he twitches and spasms inside you. Lavender paisleys, red and white stripes, olive and orange checkers all slowly fade away to a calm light blue before he pulls out and eventually lets go of your wrists. “You sure you don’t want to join my team?”

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099

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comatosebunny09 · 5 months

Text

clumsy | astarion a.

genre(s): romance, erotica (kinda sorta) warnings: blood drinking, dry humping, steaminess, terms of endearment (petal, sweetling), language summary: you get hurt. astarion helps the best way he knows how. spoiler: it's with his mouth. now playing: shirt - sza notes: based off the results for this poll. hope you all enjoy! thank you so much for reading! ❤️❤️❤️

It’s an accident.

Happens when your attention is siphoned by Shadowheart bidding you a “goodnight” over the firelight as she moves to retire to her tent.

You look up from your sword, the whetstone warm and textured in your hand, grinding across your blade in your lap as you offer her a smile.

You’re usually so attentive. So careful. Yet, tonight, you grossly misjudged your ability to multitask.

Shclink!

The cut is inevitable. Tears a hiss from betwixt your lips, and the whetstone plops to the ground along with the weighted thump of your weapon. You’re on your feet, nursing the angry, red line marring your palm. It buds with crimson, a pretty contrast to your skin.

“Hells!” cries Shadowheart, scrambling to your aid. She gently peels your hand away from your chest. Winces at the blood lazily spurring from your cut. A clean slice. Her voice holds concern when she looks up at you. “You’ll live. Would you like me to take care of it?”

Your lips quirk despite the pained knit of your brows. You draw your hand back, cradling it in your other. “Nah. Wouldn’t want you to waste your magic on something so small.”

“You’re sure?”

The tearing of your shirt fills the stilled space between you. Shadowheart blinks as you haphazardly wrap the scrap around your wound, mustering a reassuring smile. “I got it. I’ve had worse. You get some rest.”

Shadowheart smiles something unconvinced. Squeezes your shoulder. “You’ll come find me if you can’t staunch the bleeding?”

You nod, wary of the exhaustion hanging below her eyes. She examines you a moment longer before stepping around you and away from the warmth of the fire.

You watch Shadowheart retreat behind the flap of her tent. Left with the idle crackle of the campfire. Your hand throbs, your blood coloring the fabric you dressed it with.

You suck your teeth. Bend to retrieve your sword, cautiously setting it on the log you once occupied. You feel the hot trickle of your blood coasting down your fingertips. Hear it drip against the soil, the sound amplified in the stillness swallowing you.

You’ll need more than a bit of cloth to manage this.

Your gaze flits to your pack. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, contemplating downing a potion to mend your hand. Then, you spot Gale’s tent. You could trouble him for some help. But, again, you see no need to waste your companion’s magic on something so contrite. You won't die, after all. It’s just blood.

Just…

Blood.

Your mind suddenly sparkles with an idea. A mischievous one, but an idea, nonetheless.

You wipe your hands on your breeches, starting towards a familiar setup. And somehow, devilry sets your face alight along with the coppery glow of the moon.

You find him silhouetted by the moonlight. Curls of white mulling over the deckled pages of a book, seated on a stool at the mouth of his tent.

You’re not trying to be discreet. Feet crunch soundly through the dry grass, alerting the vampire to your presence. Though, you’re sure he could hear you from eons away.

Astarion doesn’t look up as he acknowledges you, concentration nestled amongst his features whilst he turns a page. “Well, hello, sweetling. Fancy a cud—dle?”

The book, once cradled in his palm, clatters to the ground.

His expression is bemused as you slide onto his lap, your legs dangling on either side of his waist. Your arms sluggishly encircle his neck, and your chests brush together, coaxing an undignified sound from his throat.

Astarion intuitively wraps your hips in the circle of his arms to keep you both from toppling over. Angles his neck to stare up at you. His mouth hangs open with an unasked question.

Your voice is light. Twinged with something seductive. Manipulative. “Astarion,” you sing-song.

“Petal?”

“I need you,” you state plainly.

His brows quirk. Quads tense beneath you. “You—what?”

You bite back a laugh. It isn’t often you catch Astarion so off guard. Typically, he’s the one dismantling your resolve with his forwardness.

“As much as I enjoy beating around the bush with you,” Astarion’s nose twitches as he samples the air with it. Vermilion eyes land on you, shining with the slightest bit of apprehension. “You’re bleeding.”

“Keen observation.” You shift upon his lap, thrusting your bloody hand into his face until he goes cross-eyed. “Mind cleaning it up?” It’s more of a demand than it is a request. Damn your innocent face.

Astarion’s mouth twitches. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Hunger wades below the depths of his irises whilst he glances between you and the blood seeping so enticingly through your impromptu bandage.

“Not going to tell me what’s happened?”

You shake your head, that devilish smile still twisting up your lips. “No time. I’m dying, Astarion. Save me. Saaave meee.” You drape your hand over your forehead and lean back to turn up the drama.

He scoffs at your theatrics, feigning aloofness despite his muscles twitching beneath you. “Fine.” Mumbles about being the cleanup crew as he unravels the cloth from your palm. Attentive and meticulous.

You flinch at the sticky pull of the dressing. The sting is immediately replaced by curiosity surfing along the shoreline of desire as Astarion appraises your wound.

He holds your hand between his. Looks at you with parted lips, saliva puddling in his cheeks. He licks his canines. His gaze holds a question. Offers an out as it chases the viscous fluid dribbling down your wrist.

Is this truly alright?

You nod, your breath held in your sternum.

Astarion studies you a moment longer before he delicately shackles your wrist in his hand, and his mouth pans in. His lashes shutter, and he groans something hoarse and feral as he presses his lips to the veins of your wrist. You flinch as if scorched by burning coal. How something as simple as a kiss could feel so sinful is beyond you.

You haven’t much time to linger on it because his tongue is sweltering and moving. Languid and obscene as it laps at the trail of crimson marring your skin. Astarion exhales appreciatively, his gaze sifting through his hunger to capture yours. He peppers your wrist with kisses, lips glistening a pretty red amid the moonlight.

You throb. Through hooded eyes, you watch your lover, your mouth parting with shallow breaths. A shudder filters through your bones, his lustful stare purposeful and unyielding.

He licks a torrid stripe up to your palm with a flattened tongue. Your fingers twitch with the need to touch. Thighs quiver. His wet mouth closes around your laceration with a raspy sound. Fangs graze the worn lines of your hand, and he sucks, drawing a bitten-off groan from your throat.

He feasts like he kisses. Stripping down your barriers, leaving you lightheaded and wanton. Swaying, and Astarion snakes an arm around your waist to keep you tethered to him. And a devious hand finds the globe of your ass and squeezes.

Your unoccupied hand curls around the base of his skull. Fingers comb through soft curls, and you press yourself impossibly closer to the rigid pane of his body. Your stomach spumes with heat. Somehow, your lover gorging himself on you turns your innards to mush.

Astarion moans. He fucking moans amid his sticky suckling, and you feel the sound stir something between your legs. He feels it, too, and he springs to life beneath the thick layers of his clothing, twitching against you.

Mindlessly, you bear your pelvis down on his. Sluggish like the drag of a tide, and Astarion hums his praise. He feels good. So wonderful, and you can’t help how your body instinctively writhes against his.

A few more languid rolls of your hips, and Astarion breaks away from your hand all too soon, heaving a breath as if resurfacing from water, his lips crooked with a smirk.

His mouth shines with your blood. Your ichor. And he greedily licks it up, not leaving a single morsel behind. The notion siphons your breath, and you feel like the most exalted thing. Hardly notice your skin gradually mending itself thanks to your lover’s attentiveness.

Once the lustful haze somewhat abates, Astarion’s chest rumbles with a chuckle as he draws you ever closer, sealing your body to his. “Tell me, petal. Surely, you didn’t come all this way just to provide me a midnight snack.“

His mouth drags along the slope of your neck, sending little warning shocks throughout your lower extremities. His throat crackles with a groan at the quickening of your pulse, teeth pinpricking your flesh.

“Don’t know what you’re on about,” you husk, craning your head back to allow him more access. Still playing innocent as if you didn’t charm him into this wicked dance of bodies and tongues. “But whatever it is, I like where it’s going.”

Astarion chuckles, lips sealing around your throat and sucking.

Your responding gasp is wet and wanton.

And you find yourself thanking the Gods for your carelessness.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion imagine #astarion smut #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion fanfic

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jymwahuwu · 7 days

Text

-You play a stripping game with Aventurine! See how much you can win?

cw: yandere, dub-con, manipulative behavior, naive, drunk reader, reader has female reproductive system, creampie, getting stripped naked after playing games

"What? Did that customer really say that? This is so silly!" You held a wine glass with ice in one hand and giggled drunkenly. And Aventurine is sitting next to you now. He confirmed your question, causing you to snicker again. He adds the sweet golden liquid to your cup. "That's right - I always advised them not to… Who would have thought that that business would become so exaggerated?"

"Hmm, that's enough, that's enough…" You took another sip of wine, leaned on his table, turned your head, smiled, and looked at the outline of his face. It's been weeks since you talked to Aventurine like this, in his villa. But once you meet him, there is an endless stream of things to say, maybe this is the precious friendship.

"Anyway, how about playing a game when you have free time?" he suggested.

You got interested and asked him what his game was. Aventurine held up your palm and explained the rules to you several times. You nodded, but you didn't really understand. "Okay, okay, how many credits should we bet?"

"It's vulgar to talk about money all the time, my friend." He smiled and held up a finger. "How about taking off one piece of clothing after losing a round?"

"Take off… clothes?" You tilted your head… closed your eyes and shook your head. "ah?"

Aventurine said in surprise. "It's a popular game. Didn't you know?"

"I-Of course I know!!" You raised your voice, pretending you already knew everything. Thinking of the value of his outfit… "Hmph, I can take away your hundreds of thousands of outfits soon."

"1, 6, 2!"

"6, 6, 6!"

"It's time to take off your clothes." He raised his chin and reminded. You snorted, removing a jacket and throwing it on his couch.

"4, 5, 6!"

"6, 6, 6!"

"What?" You picked up the three dice, checked and struck them from different angles, but there was nothing strange about them. "Did you cheat? Why are the results always so incredible?" Aventurine chuckled and shrugged. "I told you before that I'm very lucky, don't you believe me?"

"Ah, okay…" You reluctantly stared at his exquisite attire, which he had never taken off, and then looked down at your own graphic t-shirt and shorts, which were pulled up so that the bra and the breasts wrapped inside were exposed to the air. Embarrassment tugs at your heart and you try to fight back. "Next round! I don't believe you can beat me!"

2, 1, 1.

6, 6, 6.

If question marks could pop up in reality, a thousand question marks would have popped up above your head. You stare at the results in disbelief. How could Aventurine be so lucky? You can't even take one of his watches or rings? And are you so defeated now that you have to take off either your bra or panties?

"I-I won't play anymore. Boring game!" You bluffed, asking to get your clothes back, but Aventurine raised his eyebrow. "Awwww, it seems there is a coward here…"

"Who are you calling a coward?"

"You didn't keep your bet."

You are not a coward! You took back the hand holding the clothes and tremblingly touched your underwear and bra. Which one should you take off? If you lose again, will you really be completely naked? How do you get home? In the midst of your thoughts and drunkenness, you settled on a bra, but then covered your bare breasts with your hands. "Humph, now is the beginning of my victory!"

Victory? Aventurine almost laughed out loud, holding back the ridicule rising in her throat, knowing that you might leave in a huff, and all the previous arrangements would be ineffective. You open a dice simulator from the Internet to avoid possible cheating from Aventurine.

5, 1, 3.

6, 6, 6.

…It’s really…BEYOND WEIRD. How on earth is this possible? Is Aventurine walking on some lucky path you don't know and being protected by the lucky Aeon? But anyway, now you have to take off your panties and keep your promise. Now you were completely naked, in his villa, in front of your friend.

"Hey! You... don't have to do this... " You watched as Aventurine put them all in a box and locked it up. These clothes…are no longer your property. "There's no way I'm going home naked!"

"Didn't someone just say they were going to take my clothes away? I thought you were serious?" He chuckled, pulled your arm, and guided you onto his lap. With your brain like a drunken fog and embarrassment, you knelt on the sofa in confusion, your legs spread apart, and the luxurious sofa sank. A gentle kiss. Bring some hot air. Like an electric shock. "Umm…"

"Too bad your clothes won't come back, but you can win a new set by…"

Aventurine's thumb rubbed against your hot cheek for half a minute before he reluctantly unbuttoned his pants and took out his long, swollen and erect cock, the glans teasing your slit. You whimpered, placing your hands on his chest, and the glans stretched your folds and the warm inside of your vagina. "I…"

This is really more incredible than these rounds of dice. You were bouncing on his cock, moaning and sobbing in ecstasy. His hand cupped your ass, occasionally slapping it in exchange for you squeezing his cock unconsciously, while rubbing your clit with his other hand.

As the cream spurts into your body, ecstatic bliss fills you. You tighten your limbs, your butt trembles, and you wrap your hands around his neck, gasping for air.

"You win. I'll give you a new set when you wake up, okay?"

#aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail aventurine #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail x you

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s4pphicghost · 15 days

Text

doing ellies eyeliner ⋆｡˚ ❀

first post !! hope you guys will like it <3 (im sorry for mistakes, english is not my first language) feel free to correct me/give advice!!

!! palestine links !! & !! daily click to help !!

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your girlfriend frowned and crossed her arms at your words. "seriously? me and makeup?” she looked at you doubtfully. "yes!!" you cried out happily, “i’d really like to see how eyeliner would look on you.. please, ellie”, you looked at her with a soft, sweet look, trying to mentally convince her. the girl rolled her eyes jokingly. you were so excited by the idea, she just couldn’t upset you with refusal.

“okay..”, she sat on the bed, leaning on her hands and watching in a relaxed position as you rummaged through your makeup bag with enthusiasm. “gonna sit on my lap?” ellie grinned playfully. “only if it makes you more comfortable” you glanced at her and sat on her lap. she wrapped her arms around your waist and looked into your eyes. her touch sent pleasant goosebumps across your skin. you placed your hands on her cheeks and she leaned into your hands… you couldn’t help but smile. “close your eyes and don’t open until i tell you to”

ellie obediently closed her eyes. you spent a few seconds admiring your girl: freckles randomly scattered across her face, cute thick eyebrows and that scar... the features that made her stand out. you stared long enough, she realized what was happening, smiling without opening her eyes. noticing her reaction, you got down to business. you carefully traced the tip of your eyeliner along her lash line, trying not to move too fast. such thick and dark eyelashes, they always impressed you and you loved it. silence filled the room. you were so close to her, you could hear and feel her breath on your hands. the moment felt kind of intimate, it made you slightly nervous. your fingertips gently stroke the girl’s cheeks. she seemed very calm and relaxed, unlike you. ellie frowned when your movements became more confident, her eyelids twitched from your touch out of habit. you accidentally moved your hand with the eyeliner in the wrong direction. “fuck..” you whispered through a dissatisfied sigh and stood up from her. "whats wrong?" the absence of you in ellies hands, even for a few moments, upset the girl.

“you’re twitching too much, the line is crooked..” you returned to her lap with a cotton swab in your hands. she raised her head again. "too ticklish." she said sharply, her voice filled with playful annoyance. you carefully wiped away the crooked line of the eyeliner, trying not to press too hard on her thin skin. “be patient a little longer baby”, you kissed her forehead softly and again did your best trying to draw perfect lines. the girl put her hands back on your waist and squeezed a little, pulling you closer. she smirked in satisfaction, without opening her eyes. you melted under her touch, but you tried to keep your hand strong and make confident movements, even if your hands were a little shaky. after a few minutes of suffering, you got more or less accurate triangles. “open your eyes..” you closed your eyeliner and looked at your girlfriend with admiration. she frowned a little “ugh, this thing tightens the skin..”

you smirked contentedly and placed your hands on her shoulders. “you look so cute.. i knew this shape would suit you.” the girl smiles back at you, happy that you are happy with the result. “you’re such a pro”. “you didn’t even see it!”, you exclaimed, quickly got up from her lap and ran for the mirror. "here.." the girl was slightly surprised by her reflection. “wow.. this is really good,” she said, looking at herself from different angles. the eyeliner really did highlight her eye shape well and the forest green color of her eyes seemed to pop out more. “im surprised i even like it". a smile spread across your face and you began peppering your girlfriend’s face with endless amount of soft, small kisses. she laughed softly, feeling the warmth of your lips that made her blush a bit. her arms are wrapped tightly around your waist.

"what's next? you’re gonna dress me in your evening dress?” she asked jokingly through your nonstop kisses. you paused for a couple of seconds and looked at her. the delight on your face made it clear to ellie that she just made a big mistake. her eyes widened with slight embarrassment. "oh fuck no..."

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i would be really grateful for any feedback!! ty<3

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie fanfic #ellie fluff #ellie fic #the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie the last of us #tlou fanfiction #wlw #wlw post #wlw fanfic #lesbian #sapphic #sapphic fanfic

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sturnioloskyline · 2 months

Note

Matt x reader

The triplets are filming a random video and somewhere during the video they try smelling salts Chris calls reader to try them not telling her why it is and she has a funny reaction but a couple seconds after she has a massive nosebleed.<3

nosebleed

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: language, smelling salts(?), blood, pain, yelling

summary: your boyfriend's brother makes you try smelling salts without a warning.

thank u for the request, anon! 😚

your boyfriend, matt, had invited you to spend the night with him at his and his brothers' house. you were sitting on the couch in their living room, scrolling on your phone while the triplets were all in the kitchen.

nick had informed his brothers just yesterday that they didn't have enough content for their vlog that was supposed to be out in a few days. as a result, the three of them had been carrying cameras around all day trying to record as much as they could.

chris had ordered something on amazon for his brothers to try on camera, and he was currently trying to convince them to do it for the vlog.

"c'mon, just try it!" chris giggled. his brothers looked at him as if he were insane.

"i don't trust you," nick said, his eyes flicking to the unlabelled bottle in chris's hand.

"yeah, just tell us what it is chris," matt agreed with nick, backing away from chris.

"ugh, just try it! it'll be funny!" chris whined, getting fed up with his brothers' refusal to participate.

"chris, we're not gonna sniff something out of a random bottle you ordered from amazon," nick rolled his eyes.

chris looked at the camera in defeat, before noticing you sitting on the couch on your phone. an idea immediately popped into his head.

"hey, y/n, can you come over here and smell this for the vlog?" your head snapped up at the request. you didn't think much of it, tossing your phone on the couch and getting up to join the boys by the counter.

"what is it?" you asked chris, looking at matt and nick, who just shrugged their shoulders.

"you'll see," chris replied secretively, twisting open the bottle and setting the cap down on the counter. he handed the bottle to you. "just take a big ol' whiff."

you hesitantly brought the bottle under your nose, before inhaling deeply. you were immediately hit by an intense burning sensation in your nose. you slammed the bottle down on the counter, doubling over.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, CHRIS?!" you yelled out, causing chris and his brothers to break out into a fit of laughter. chris picked up the camera from where he had it propped up, angling it to record your reaction. a lightheaded rush washed over you as tears welled up in your eyes, and your nose felt like it was on fire.

matt walked up behind you and placed his hands on your hips. he was laughing softly at your outburst, but the longer you stayed leaning against the counter, the more he grew concerned.

"are you okay?" matt whispered, rubbing your waist with his thumbs. you sniffed and let out a groan, shaking your head. the lightheadedness you were feeling quickly turned into a throbbing headache. matt's smile faltered a bit, but chris and nick just kept laughing.

"can you get me a tissue?" you croaked out a request to matt. he immediately rushed to grab a box of tissues, setting it down beside you on the counter. you grabbed a tissue and wiped your eyes, before using it to blow your nose. you sighed and stepped back from the counter, rubbing your nose and letting out a sigh.

"OH MY GOD," chris exclaimed when your face was visible again, his eyes widening. you looked at him in worry, before looking down at the tissue in your hand. the tissue was now almost completely dyed red with blood from your nose. you looked back up at chris before feeling liquid rush out of your nose again.

"oh my god!" you shrieked back, quickly grabbing another tissue and bringing it to your nose. nick was at chris's side, clapping a hand over his mouth when he noticed the bloodied tissues.

matt stepped in front of you so he could see what was going on, his jaw dropping at the sight of blood filling the tissue pressed under your nose.

"chris, what did you do?" matt yelled at his brother, not taking his eyes off you. he moved the tissue you were holding to better assess the situation, wincing when he saw blood smeared on your upper lip.

"i didn't know they could make her nose bleed!" chris set the camera down, turning it away.

"what the fuck is in that bottle chris?" nick yelled in confusion and concern.

"smelling salts! i thought people used them to like, get better at sports!" chris tried to defend himself. nick buried his face in his hands.

matt turned away from you to stare at chris in shock. "chris, those are fucking dangerous! they can seriously hurt if you don't use them right!"

"i'm sorry, i didn't know!" chris apologized regrettfully, watching matt as he wet a tissue and tried to wipe the blood from your face.

"it's okay chris," your voice was muffled from the tissue matt was using to dab your nose. chris frowned at you with remorse.

by the time your nose had finally stopped bleeding, matt was still inspecting your face, his eyebrows still knitted with worry.

"matt.." you chuckled softly, hoping to ease some of his tension. "i'm okay now. everything's fine."

matt met your eyes and smiled softly at you, pulling you into a tight hug. chris picked the camera back up and pointed it at you, teasing matt.

"shut the fuck up chris," matt turned around to look at his brother, rolling his eyes. "don't ever try some shit like this again."

chris was unfazed by matt's comments, knowing that matt wasn't actually mad at him. he smiled at him through the camera.

"we have to put this in wednesday's video." chris looked at you for confirmation.

"yeah, of course? i didn't do that shit for nothing," you scoffed, holding back a smile.

"yes y/n!" chris cheered, panning the camera to nick and matt. nick still had his face in his hands, turning away from the camera while matt shook his head.

"you guys are insane," matt mumbled, walking out of the kitchen to his room. you and chris looked at each other and burst out laughing.

...

COMMENTS[extra!!!]:

holy shit chris almost killed y/n 😭

HELP THE SMELLING SALTS?!?!

matt hugging y/n my heart 🥹🥹

chris + y/n = underrated duo

...

author's note: ngl i didn’t actually know what smelling salts were before this…

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader

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softlyspector · 11 months

Text

Picture

Summary: You really want to take Joel's picture. He can't really figure out why.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: ~2.1k

Warnings: nudity, taking nude pictures, smuttish themes and allusions but no actual smut, Joel being kinda dense/insecure about his looks, mostly unedited

A/N: Happy Sunday! Brought to you by more brain worms that caused this when I was supposed to be working on other things. Something tells me that Joel doesn't exactly know how pretty he is, so this is a result of that thought.

“Just one picture,” you plead.

You're smiling, holding the polaroid camera in your hands at an angle, naked as the day you were born where you straddle his hips.

Your thighs are wet, your release and his smeared between your thighs and his and over his hip and waist. His cock is already half hard again, and the movement of you wriggling back as you aim down at him doesn’t help.

He grunts and digs his fingers into the meat of your thighs. You just laugh at him, readjusting your grip on the camera.

Joel's eyes slide over you, the curve of your waist, the plush fold of your thigh and hip, the dip of your breasts and peaks of your nipples. He wants to reach for you, pull you down into him, but settles for rubbing his palms over your thighs instead, tracing circles there.

You’re still dewy with exertion; your skin glows in the low lamplight of his bedroom. Joel isn’t really sure how he got so lucky, lucky enough to have someone like you focusing all their attention on him.

“And what, darlin’, do you plan on doin’ with such a picture?”

He ain’t big on pictures. He poses for them with Sarah sometimes, just because he wants her to be able to look at them when she's older, mostly for the memories and so she has something of her old man when she’s grown.

Joel figures he isn’t really much to look at, so the why of the picture is miffing him just a little. Why would you want a picture of him? Especially one like the one you're attempting to get him to take now?

He’s fairly sure you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on.

He’s also fairly sure you’re out of his league by miles and miles. So if anyone should have their picture taken, it's you.

You hold the camera up to your eye and aim it at him, but your finger remains decidedly still against the button. “It’d be just for me. You're too handsome to share with anyone else.”

He rolls his eyes and anchors his hands on your hips. “Right.”

“You are,” you reaffirm, lowering the camera. “So pretty." You pause and tilt your head. "I won't take it if you don't want me to. But maybe I could sweeten the deal a little?”

“How's that, honey?” He traces one hand over the curve of your waist, runs the knuckles of his opposite hand delicately up your side, until he can swipe his thumb against the underside of your breast.

You shiver and lean into his grip, your eyes a shade darker than before.

“I’ll let you take one of me. A really scandalous, salacious one,” you promise, carefully setting the camera on the messy bed before you lean over him. You cup his face in your hands, eyes flicking over him like there’s something to see.

Like he's a vault you can't quite figure how to unlock.

He raises a brow. “And mine won’t be?”

“Not as scandalous, not if you don't want it to be. I’m not angling to push my luck with you, Joel Miller.”

He snorts again, sliding one hand against the back of your neck to keep you pressed close to him. You close your eyes and breath out, a delicate little sigh that puffs over his lips.

The room is warm, too warm. The fan running in the corner does little to stir the heat in the room and nothing to dispel the heat between your bodies. He won’t say he minds though. He was plenty hot before, but if it kept you pliant and naked in his bed, he won’t complain about it.

His eyes flick down, over your bare body. Something beautiful and soft. Something really worth taking a picture of.

“Just can’t see why you’d want somethin’ like that.”

“Well,” you murmur, rubbing the tip of your nose against the side of his. “You don’t have to see why. Just know I do.” You blink your eyes open and tilt your head against his.

Joel wants to hear it though, something in him really wants to know. So, against his better judgment, he asks again, “Why?”

You pull back a fraction, even though he keeps a steady pressure on the back of your neck, trying to keep you near. Your eyes are clear and curious, maybe a little confused. “Joel,” you laugh, leaning down to kiss him, thumbs running over his cheeks. You taste sweet, a little like yourself, and bitter, a little like him. “I mean…” you trail off against his mouth. “Do you want one of me?”

“Yeah, ‘course I do.”

He’d keep that picture somewhere safe, somewhere that only his eyes were ever in danger of seeing it. If you trusted him to keep it safe for you.

Joel would look at it, on the nights you couldn’t come over. Fist his hand around himself and daydream of you, think about how nothing and no one else would ever be as good as you, as your pussy wrapped snugly around his cock.

You arch an eyebrow at him, like you can see all the thoughts running through his head. “Right, so why wouldn’t I want one of you?”

He squeezes the back of your neck gently and then releases you, tracing a finger over the shell of your ear and cupping your cheek. “Well, we ain’t exactly twins.”

Joel means it as a joke but you suddenly jerk back, your eyes darting over him. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

You don’t answer, rolling your eyes at him instead. He lets you pull back from him reluctantly, the warmth of your palms on his face disappearing. You shift back until you’re sitting mostly on his thighs, the warmth of your pussy leaking right over his cock. You rock your hips against him just once, smiling and grabbing the camera when he hisses and hooks his hands against you, to still the movement of you over him.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he says, leaving little crescents in your thighs and then divots by your hip bones.

“No I will not,” you disagree. “Now, look here, Miller. One picture. Then we look at it together and if you absolutely hate it and still don’t get it—well, you can watch me rip it up.”

There’s nothing he’d really say no to you about. And this is harmless, with a built in out. “Fine,” he grumbles.

“Fine,” you repeat, pitching your voice to match his, accent and all. “Jesus, you’d think I asked for the moon!”

“The moon would be more understandable, darlin’.”

“Yeah alright, okay, hush.” You lift the camera to your eye and then lower it immediately, frowning at him.

“What? Comin’ to some kid of realization—”

You aren’t, evidently, just rearranging his limbs—tucking one arm above his hand, running a hand through his already messy hair, angling his jaw slightly up. You unfurl his other clenched fist and splay his fingers over the middle of his belly.

“There,” you say with a nod, seeming satisfied with your work.

A long moment passes where you just look at him, tracing your fingers over the vein on the inside of his bicep and over the curve of his shoulder.

Something like embarrassment claws up the inside of his chest. He should be looking at you like that, not the other way around.

“What?” His voice is gritted and sharp.

You just smile at those jagged edges. “Nothing. Just committing this to memory in case you make me tear up my picture.”

“See,” he grouses. “It’s like you don’t need a picture at all.”

You just roll your eyes and lean back. Joel has to resist the urge to move, to reach out and cup his hand against your lower back to steady you. “Stop making that face,” you say, camera pressed to your eye.

He frowns, and you giggle and snap the picture without warning.

The camera whirs and spits out a picture, which you pluck up and unceremoniously roll off of him and into the empty space next to him on the bed, shaking the picture by its edge as you go. A cloud of your scent puffs up around him, like sex and the taste of your skin, that dark perfume you always wear like the black of forests long forgotten. “It’s gonna be a good one,” you say, pillowing your head on his shoulder and tangling one leg over his.

“Am I allowed to move now?” He grumbles.

The acid sarcasm on his tongue makes you laugh. “Sure, baby,” you coo, “whatever you want.” Joel rests his chin on the top of your head, and you keep shaking the photo until it's developed enough that he can see the outlines of his figure.

It’s then that you turn it away so he can’t see it.

He watches your face instead, but you don’t give anything away. You stay silent and still, your eyes flicking over the image curiously. He can’t read the cut of your gaze. “C’mon, honey,” he pleads. “Put me outta my misery and lemme see it.”

“Okay,” you agree softly after another long minute of silent staring.

And then you tilt the picture towards him so he can see it.

Joel gets the sense he’s looking at another person, someone other than him. The man in the photo looks—well, not worn, not tired. He's...well, if he had to say, he'd say he's handsome. Pretty, as you said.

He’s frowning, but it reads as a…maybe a brooding kind of sexy. There are things he doesn’t like—the crinkled lines by his eyes, the softness of his belly, the lock of hair that sticks straight up off his forehead.

But, the rest of it. Golden skin, taut muscle in his arms and chest, dark hair on his belly that leads lower. His jaw is sharp, his eyes dark. Your soft thighs bracket his hips, just barely in frame. He likes that he can see part of you in the picture too. He likes that he can see traces of you on his skin—purpled bruises on his collarbone that the neck of his t-shirt would hide from everyone else's gaze, the sheen of something damp on his stomach just below his veined hand.

Now, maybe he understands a little more. Maybe he can at least understand why you’d want the picture.

“So,” you start after a few minutes of relative silence in the muted hum of the fan working overtime in the corner of the room, the sound of your breathing mixing with his. “Do you see now? Or do I have to rip it up?”

Joel turns his head to meet your bright gaze, the answer already known to you. Instead of answering you, he asks, “When do I get to take your picture, sweetheart?”

You ignore him. “It’s because you’re so handsome.” You trace the picture with your thumb, your eyes locked back on his image. “How is it that you don’t know?” Joel isn’t sure you’re talking to him anymore. “You don't know you're so...pretty,” you say again. “And just how I like you. With those big, dark eyes and—”

“Alright,” he cuts you off, his voice caught in the back of his throat. “That’s enough a’ that. You don’t have to rip it up.”

“Good, I wouldn’t have anyway.”

You would have, if he’d asked you. “My question stands—when do I get to take yours?”

You roll away from him and carefully set the picture on the bedside table. “After you fuck me again.” Something in your gaze darkens, desire pooling in the depths of your eyes.

Joel chuckles, warmth burrowing down in his chest. “Why not now?”

“Well, won’t I be all glowy and loose then? Y’know, like blissed out.”

“Tall order,” he comments as you press yourself into his arm, the weight of you pleasant, your eyes dark and waiting, wanting.

“Not for you.”

Maybe you’re just trying to stroke his ego, but he doesn’t care because it's working and it's probably true. He's good to you, for you.

Your legs lock around his hips when he slots himself over you, pressing his hips to yours and to the needy warmth between your legs. When your eyes flutter back, he thinks that’s something he’d like to have a picture of.

That, and everything else, every other part of you.

“What if I want more than one picture?”

“Picture for a picture,” you sigh as he drags his mouth down the side of your throat, the taste of your skin like the salted sea. “That’s the only way it’s gonna work.”

Maybe he can learn to live with that, if he gets to see you look at him the way you looked at that picture.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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willows-peak · 4 months

Text

*･ﾟ✧ Sharing Is Caring

tags: fem! reader, like a sprinkle of porn with plot, movie night, implied satosugu, dirty talk, its just all dirty talk, geto is thick asf, geto is fucking you in gojo's lap, petnames (baby, princess, sweetheart, honey, pretty girl)

MDNI

word count: 2k

a/n: i was in the mood to write dirty talk passed out then this appeared on my screen

⋆｡˚ ♡ Tonight really had started simple, with you coming over to Geto's apartment for a movie night, only to be surprised by Gojo greeting you at the door. And while you were always happy to see him as well, you've noticed that the two could get a little… Competitive with you. It was common knowledge that the two of them had a crush on you, and you did with them. Instead of the three of you saying anything out loud, the two men had turned it into a game of sorts on who could be the center of attention when you were with them.

Thankfully, their competitions were never too serious nor staked on anything. Simple couples banter half the time, with the winner only earning bragging rights. So, of course you'd assumed tonight would be the same, when Geto started rolling his eyes when a sex scene came onto the movie you three had picked. “She's not even enjoying that, come on.” He'd scoff, hand underneath his chin and elbow resting on his thigh.

“Oh yeah, right there!!” Gojo called out mockingly, earning a laugh from Geto while you sat silently. You couldn't exactly tell what she was doing ‘bad’ at, if you were being honest. “Is she really that bad at acting?” You chirped up, making both of them nod simultaneously. “No girl is ever that loud, trust me.” Geto confirmed, turning his body to face you and Gojo. You smiled up at him at how swiftly he shut your questioning down “You seem awfully confident with that, you almost made me think you've ever gotten pussy.”

Geto raised his brows at you, raising his head from his hand and leaning back on the couch, eyes shifting from your lips to your eyes before speaking up. “I haven't? That's funny, I didn't know you were a liar. Does she lie like that to you too, Satoru?” Geto chimed, smiling coyly over at the white haired boy. “Damn, she caught you red handed Sugu’.” Geto rolled his eyes before meeting your faze once again “I know what I'm talking about when I say that she's not getting fucked good.”

His tone, while the same as it was earlier, carried a certain weight to it when he said that. His smile failed to meet his eyes, which were staring straight through you as he watched for your reaction. A million things came and went by in your mind as you stared back at him, feeling frozen under him by how he looked at you. “She doesn't look too convinced.” Gojo laughed.

There really wasn't a good way of responding to him, was there? He said it so plainly, like it was a given fact, that you couldn't come up with anything to actually go against him. Well, one thing did come to mind, though it wasn't going to be your best work.

“Prove it.”

You didn't mean to come across so bluntly with what you said, but it was too late to take it back. And from the grin that made its way onto Geto's face, you have a sneaking suspicion that that's what he wanted you to say.

Which led to right now. Where Gojo was keeping you snug in his lap, your bare back against his steadily rising and falling chest. His fingers spreading your pussy apart for the man in front of you two, who was so slowly grinding himself against you, hands sturdying on your hips. Gojo's middle finger slowly stroked your clit in rhythm with Geto's grinds, your resulting whimpers making the two men chuckle.

"Stop teasin’ her, Suguru.." Gojo spoke quietly, not wanting to tarnish the silent scene in front of him with his voice. Geto grinned up at him and angled his hips back, just enough for the tip of his cock to press against your hole. "Don't tell me how to fuck, Satoru" He shot back, watching how you squirm under him as he pushes himself inside of you, agonizingly slow.

Inch by inch, you could feel yourself stretching to accommodate his size. Your hands came to grip at Gojo's thighs as you took your time getting used to Geto inside you. Gojo muttered curses under his breath as he watched Geto disappear inside of you, his cock being replaced by a small bulge at the bottom of your stomach. "I know, baby, I know. It feels like he’s fuckin' tearing you open the first time, doesnt it?" Gojo pressed the finger on your clit down more as he whispered, making your pussy tighten around the last inch of Geto. "That's right, gooood giiirrrl....I knew you could do it." Geto cooed, tipping your chin up to meet his eyes.

You shivered from his gaze, intense and relishing in the doe-ish look you had on you. "How's he feel, princess?" Gojo asked, smile audible when you made a broken moan in response. "S’ big.." You whined, sucking in air through your teeth as Geto pulled his hips back. "Fuck me, you're tight.." Geto stumbled out, your pussy almost choking out his cock if he so much as twitched.

"Relax, honey, you're doing so good.. Just breathe with me, in and out." His tone was so soft, so easy to follow that you found your body obeying before your mind could catch up. He let out a low laugh as he watched your chest shakily fall up and down, feeling his dick grow harder at your obedience.

"Innn and out, pretty girl, don't stop." Geto praised, moving his hand down your body to right below your stomach as he started thrusting, in time with your breathing. You gasped as he moved, his hips smooth and deep and just enough to make your head feel full of air.

Your voice stumbled clumsily out of your mouth, moaning and panting from his thickness. "Shit..." Gojo whispered, his dick throbbing up against the restraints of his pajama pants (why did he have them on still? It may or may not be because he was too eager to see your naked body that he has the sense to strip himself)

He continued whispering swears and encouragements to you as he squeezed his fingers inwards, around Geto's cock shifting out of you. Geto's slow and deep pace was no longer so gentle, every thrust inside you coming fast and hard, your body lighting up with sensitivity and pleasure before he'd take his time pulling out of you.

It was difficult to think, much less speak at the rhythm he was moving inside you, especially with Gojo's own moans filling your ear, his fingers now rubbing quick circles against your clit. You could feel his cock humping up against your ass, too, a light wet spot beginning to form at the point where his dick grinded against his pants.

"So good for us, shit- makin' me sweat for this pussy...come on sweetheart, lemme show you how good you can feel" Geto's husky and smooth voice was almost lost on your ears, your mind torn between focusing on Gojo behind you, or the way you could feel every vein and bump and how deliciously they were rubbing right against your walls.

You nodded dumbly, not bothering to ask what he meant and just wanting this to get better. Geto's smile grew wider at your eagerness, shifting his hand to squeeze at the flesh of your ass before lifting your hips up, your upper half falling back against Gojo's chest and making your tummy squish against itself.

Gojo let out a low groan at how much your pussy stretched around Geto, a thin ring of cream beginning to form around the base of his dick and sticking to the thin hairs decorating his lower stomach. "Make her cum, Satoru, want you to watch her squirt" Geto said, his tone breathless as he spread his thighs apart.

"Don't tell me what to do, Suguru" Gojo mocked, a cheeky smile finding its way to his lips when Geto gave him an unamused stare. Geto's eyes fell back onto where the two of you met, biting his lip and blowing out a breath before reeling his hips back, a loud slap of skin echoing through the room as he thrusted back into you.

You yelped as he squeezed your ass again, yanking your hips forward to meet his thrusts, sweat starting to form over your body from the heat between Geto and Gojo. Gojo, who was bringing you quicker and quicker to orgasm with his lithe fingers rubbing expert circles around your clit while pumping his leaking cock inside his pants, and Geto, who was fucking you so deep and making your breath catch so much that you could feel yourself getting dizzy.

You could feel yourself growing tense, your orgasm feeling so close yet so far as Geto's cock was taking over any conscious thought you could hope to have. "That’s right, take this fucking dick, like you're made to-" He grunted out, feeling your pussy tighten sporadically.

"You close baby? Shit- Yeah you are, pussy's trying to keep me in... Cum for me, make a fucking mess for us-" Geto egged on, hips angling up to aim his thrusts against your g-spot. You gasped and moaned loudly, feeling the tightness in your belly finally break as your orgasm flooded your senses entirely. You whined and squeaked helplessly as your pussy throbbed harshly, wave after wave of pleasure consuming you as neither Geto's hips nor Gojo's fingers slowed or stopped. You couldn't even try to muffle yourself, your arms shaking too hard against Gojo's thighs as you came around Geto.

Gojo's orgasm seemed to come almost immediately after yours started to simmer down, his eyes locking with the growing mess on Geto's stomach and the drips of cum falling down his balls to the bed sheets underneath you two.

"Fuck yes, take his fucking cock baby, oh my g-god yes-" Gojo sloppily stammered, the orgasm making his body fold into itself as his cum covered his hand. Your eyes began to roll back into your skull from how expertly they were seeming to break you down, your pussy feeling looser and impossibly wetter to Geto.

"Keep moaning, princess, say my fucking name- Just like that, make me cum inside this pussy" Sweat was forming and dripping down his brow from the strain it took to keep going, his abs clenching and his thighs tensing as his hips moved at a quick and hard pace. Gojo, mercifully, stopped his onslaught on your clit and instead let his hand travel downwards to where Geto was fucking you.

His fingers collected some of your cum and wetness mixed together, using it as lube to stroke the now bulging vein that sat underneath of Geto's cock. "Cum inside her, make her know who's pussy this is, Suguru-" Gojo was almost pleading from his tone, still reeling from the orgasm he gave himself and how his cock was half hard already from your loud moans and whimpers.

Geto could barely make another buck into you before he came, hard, inside you. His hips came slamming down into you as rope after rope of cum emptied inside you, your body slowly coming back to reality and focusing on the warmth filling you. You could feel the way his balls emptied below your hole, where they rested as Geto sloppily rode out his orgasm, twitching and thrusting himself as deep as possible inside your welcoming pussy, before pulling out slowly.

You whimpered breathily as you felt the veins of his cock dragging out against your sensitive walls, weakly tightening around his softening cock. “Come on baby, don’ be greedy..” Geto spoke, low and smooth as he rubbed his thumb across your cheek gently. Two other hands came to wrap around your middle as you relaxed against Geto's hand, your stomach and waist being caressed tenderly. “Did so well, sweetheart, so proud of you..” Geto praised, kissing your temple as you smiled warmly up at him.

“..C'n we do this more often?” You asked quietly, Gojo giggling into your shoulder as Geto paused to consider your request. “If you're willing to go back on what you said about me, then of course.” You scoffed and pushed at his chest lightly in retaliation. “Absolutely not.”

#jjk #jujustu kaisen #getou suguru #geto suguru #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #getou x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #jjk smut

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ericscroptop · 2 months

Text

Best Friends

✧ pairing: kim sunwoo x best friend fem! reader

✦ genre: fwb + smut

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) smut, doggy style, unprotected sex, pet names, cursing, angst??? lowkey unrequited love, lmk if i’m missing anything else!

✦ word count: 1.9k words

✧ synopsis: sunwoo is secure in what you two have, while you end up getting sidetracked and catching little feelings for your best friend.

✦ note: this is based off the weeknd’s song “best friends.” highly underrated song imo. i hope y’all enjoy xx

(i might write a prequel to this of when it all started, but only if i get motivated, lol. though, this is a stand-alone fic!)

༻༺❘ ༻༺❘ ༻༺❘ ༻༺❘ ༻༺❘ ༻༺❘ ༻༺❘ ༻༺❘

You lie naked on your abdomen over his white sheets, lowered on your elbows, face down and ass in the air while Sunwoo fucks you from behind.

You’re entranced by the intoxicating feeling of your best friend’s thick cock thrusting in and out of your wet cunt. His hips are ramming against your ass rhythmically, causing your body to bounce right back against him at the animalistic act.

His finger nails gripped your hips and buttocks as he fucked you relentlessly, so hard that you’d be left with bruises and crescent shaped marks over your flesh.

A pillow pressed against your face muffles the whimpers and moans leaving your throat. Sunwoo tsks at your suppressed sounds and doesn’t hesitate in grabbing a fistful of your hair into a makeshift ponytail, yanking your head away from what’s shielding your noises and pulling your head upwards.

Immediately forced to now be on all fours, your fingers gripped his sheets while you yelp in a mixture of pain and pleasure at his harsh hold and cock navigating your tight walls.

“Come on, let me hear you, doll,” Sunwoo grunts as he continues to move his length in and out of you.

He now hears you panting clearly and a smirk plasters over his face listening to your fucked out breathing in response to his cock bringing you stimulation.

“Is girly gettin’ her brains fucked out so good that she can’t catch a breath?” Sunwoo lifts a hand to grab the flesh of your ass cheek, massaging the skin before he gives it a harsh slap.

“Ahhh fuck— Sunwoo!” your head snapped back at the stinging his hand left, yelling in response to his roughness.

He chuckles smugly at your reaction, and continues to ram into you.

“Would’ve never guessed you liked it rough for such a cute, sweet girl.”

“Should’ve known when you basically begged me to use you like a rag doll after one month into meeting me.”

You felt that you have completely lost all your senses from the overwhelming sensation of warmth and fullness from Sunwoo’s cock.

You’re insanely horny, starting to pound back shamelessly to fuck as much of him as you can, feeling his cock so hard that it hurts so good.

“Greedy girl, huh?” his hands move around your hips while his own slam into you harder, his sweaty balls clapping ferociously against your cunt.

More filthy noises ranging from high to low escaped your mouth as you were on cloud nine.

You were so overwhelmed in stimulation from fucking.

The lewd sounds of you guy’s intense breathing and moaning, the wetness of your sex, and the sound of the bed creaking.

Your body being shaken and boobs bouncing from his hips plunging against your ass.

His hot cock pounding your warm pussy and tight walls, providing pleasurable friction.

Pure euphoria.

Your cunt’s walls squeezed around Sunwoo’s length once he starts hitting the jackpot that is your g-spot, eliciting a groan from his throat at the vibrations sent straight to his cock as a result of your clenching.

“Getting ready to cum? Let it all out, doll. Show me how much you enjoy being fucked dumb,” he grunts out, movements continuing frenetically.

“Oh—fuck!” You hiss at the familiar feeling of a coil in the pit of your stomach making an appearance. So fucking tight.

The penetration angle starts to become so intense that your pussy is ready to soak his cock in your cum.

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape as you cry out, seeing stars while quivering.

Your heart rate increases, ears are ringing, and legs shake as you let go, coating his cock in your cum and juices.

You groan and groan again at your release, completely letting yourself fall face into the pillow you were over earlier.

“That’s right doll, s’ good.” Sunwoo praises, hands still holding your hips as he chases his own release for a couple seconds more, listening to your muffled whines in overstimulation.

You feel his dick pulsate and twitch before he pulls out, hissing at his warm cock leaving your walls.

You unfortunately can’t see him, since you’re faced down on the pillow all fucked out as he starts to jerk himself off at a fast pace.

He grunts lowly, jaw slack and muscles clenching while spewing his hot ropes of cum across your ass.

“Fuuuuck,” his voice trembles in feeling the wave of tingly pressure within each pump and in seeing the whitish fluid coating your butt cheeks.

You were infatuated with the way he fucks you from behind. The roughness of it all, and how you have become his prey.

Although Sunwoo never cummed inside of you (he says it’s because that would be too intimate) you enjoy feeling his semen paint your skin after every fuck, finding it submitting and erotic.

Sunwoo likes to fuck you from behind and as he pleases because he’s using you to release his frustrations as a college student athlete.

You let him use you like a rag doll because you have an attraction to him— of which, he knows about.

And it’s starting to become harder to ignore when you look like you want to pour your heart out to him when you two talk and after every sexual encounter, when he just wants to have casual sex.

He likes fucking you from behind because he rather not see that dreamy look in your eyes as you guys have sex, or he might end up getting too caught up past what it is.

And Lord knows he can’t do that.

He stumbles over from his own fucked out daze, parking his rear on the bed right in front of you.

You two take a minute to regulate your breaths and bodies, shivers and spasms flooding the each of you as you recover from intercourse.

You crane your head to look back at Sunwoo. Wisps of his black hair are fallen over his forehead, sticking to his skin in sweat from the adrenaline and physical activity.

He meets your gaze for a brief moment with a lopsided grin. He then shifts his eyes over to your ass milked in his cum.

Your eyes follow his gaze and you slightly move, feeling the soreness of your cunt and the juices that are slipping out, definitely staining his sheets.

His weight on the mattress disappears as he gets up, walking away for a moment to find a towel in his bathroom.

He comes back swiftly, goosebumps dancing across your body once the towel in his hands makes contact with your skin.

He gently begins cleaning you up, wiping off his cum from your butt cheeks and cleaning up your own mess from your cunt.

You hum as he wipes the body fluids off, the scent of your natural pheromones and sweat filling your nostrils.

Sunwoo chuckles seeing the flesh of your ass move at him rubbing the towel against your skin. He doesn’t hesitate to playfully slap the cheeks, resulting in you gasping and then wincing at the sensitivity.

Your teeth catch your bottom lip as you bite back a smile. It doesn’t end up reaching your face as it falters instead, watching him walk over to his nightstand to pick up his phone to check the time instead of laying next to you with you in his embrace.

And that’s when the post-nut clarity crashes all down on you.

“I gotta wash up before the game,” a hand of Sunwoo’s goes to scratch the back of his head, eyes evidently avoiding your gaze.

You simply nod and purse your lips, feeling the awkwardness you two normally shared post-sex.

He walks around his room and rummages through drawers to find fresh clothes for his shower. You simply watch as he does so, loneliness and shame beginning to creep up over your mind.

His body suddenly makes way towards you, and you perk up, thinking he’ll finally kiss you—a forehead kiss you at least hope, only to weakly smile when his hand reaches on the top of your head, ruffling your hair messily.

“Thanks, doll.” he whispers softly. His hand falls to his side and he wets his plump lips with his tongue.

Your eyes fall onto said lips, secretly longing for them to sync with yours. You crave that affection from him sometimes, past the rough sex you two have.

How foolish of you to think he’d give you more.

Sunwoo purses his lips as he sees your eyes observe them. His body shifts uncomfortably, feeling awkward from the atmosphere.

He sighs lightly as he begins to trudge towards his bathroom, stopping once he reaches the doorway to turn and look at you.

“You coming to the game tonight?” he questions with a nod.

“Yeah, i’m going with the girls as per usual.” you tilt your head and prompt your elbow up to rest your chin on the palm of your hand as you peer at him.

“Cool,” he sheepishly smiles. “You can grab something from the kitchen if you’d like, as always. I’ll see you later, y/n.”

And with that, he fully enters the bathroom and shuts the door.

Sunwoo quietly blows out air as he shuts himself in the bathroom, lids closing as he begins to feel like an asshole.

It’s heavily apparent that you want more from him, but he simply couldn’t offer you that. It wasn’t part of your agreement in this friend’s with benefits relationship.

He was the star soccer player. Notorious for breaking hearts as he prioritized the sport above meaningful relationships.

He didn’t think he was capable of balancing a relationship right now. It wasn’t in his cards. He was selfish and thought with his dick.

He also wanted to focus on being a good player while balancing school and maintaining his popularity.

Sex was an outlet for him. It made sense to just have casual flings and not put any meaning to it aside from fulfilling his sexual desires.

So when you approached him with the idea of doing anything to relieve his frustrations one night after a shitty game, who was he to refuse?

You two fucked hard when Sunwoo needed you. He fucked your throat and your cunt well after every encounter.

His only rules were no kissing, he won’t cum inside you, and your relationship remain a secret to anyone and everyone. It was plainly no strings attached.

He didn’t want to be held responsible for your heart if you two fall.

But as time went on, deep down, he knows he’s tearing you apart.

And you allow him to do so.

You swallow hard as he closed the door. Your body still lies naked on his bed, having no desire to get up.

Your face falls into your hands, sighing in frustration at the position you’ve put yourself in.

Unfortunately though, what sucks is that you rather have him like this than nothing at all.

There’s a power imbalance inherent in this with you on the downside, because of your stupid feelings.

You wanted Sunwoo so bad.

For his flirty personality and natural charm. For his respectful manners even though he fucks you like a whore. For his passion when he’s playing his heart out on the field. For his relaxed attitude towards others and life. For how he gets easily scared at the slightest of noises and things, of which, makes you laugh.

Your heart has caught up to you and it’s fucking you up.

You realized you don’t want to have sex as friends no more.

༻༺❘ ༻༺❘ ༻༺❘ ༻༺❘ ༻༺❘ ༻༺❘ ༻༺❘ ༻༺❘

#ericscroptop #the boyz #the boyz imagines #the boyz smut #tbz fanfic #tbz sunwoo #kim sunwoo #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo smut #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo #kpop smut #kpop #kpop imagines

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iamasimperyk · 3 months

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Adoption -Rafe Cameron

Warning: Ovulation disorder (Not being able to get pregnant), Fluff, English isn’t my first language

Summary: Since you weren’t able to get pregnant, Rafe came up with an idea and now you couldn’t be happier

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Wife!Reader

You had always loved children. Ever since you started babysitting at the age of 14, you looked forward to the day were you give birth to your own children.

You wanted to provide your child with all the love and opportunities you could. You had a loving husband, a beautiful home, and a good job, so it seemed like the perfect time to have children. However, things didn't go as planned.

One year ago, you and Rafe began trying for a baby. After some time of unsuccessful attempts, you decided to visit your gynecologist for an evaluation. Although you knew that getting pregnant may take some time, you had a sense that something might be wrong.

“I am sorry Mrs. Cameron,” The doctor said, looking at the test results, “But it seems like you have an ovulation disorder.”

“W-what does that mean?” You gulped, already feeling the tears in your eyes.

“I am sorry, but you will not be able to get pregnant anytime soon.” He explained, his face filled with sorrow.

You felt your world crumble around you. Your greatest desire was to become a mother, but it seemed as though fate had other plans.

“Will I ever be able to?” You asked him, tears now streaming down your face.

“There are different treatment options, but the chances are not high for you.” He told you honestly.

The last year you tried everything your doctor had recommend. Medications, lifestyle changes and a hormone replacement therapy. Still, you weren’t pregnant and the feeling of emptiness ate you alive.

Rafe supported you through everything, but it made you feel even more upset that you couldn't give him a child he wanted just as much as you did.

"How did your treatment go today?" your husband asked as he kissed your forehead.

“Unsuccessful. Rafe, I can’t do this anymore,” You mumbled and he nodded in an understanding way.

“It’s alright, my love. I know the past year has been difficult for you, and I noticed how much you suffered.” He kissed you tenderly.

"I really wanted to have a baby and make you a dad, Rafe. I'm sorry I couldn't." You whispered, staring at the white wall in front of you.

“No, no, don’t do this. It’s not your fault. And maybe I have a solution to our problem,” he said with a smile.

You frowned at him, “You find yourself another wife?”

He shook his head “Course not, you are the only woman I could ever love.”

You smiled a little and kissed him.

"I was thinking about adoption. We could provide a loving home for a child who needs it," he suggested, waiting for your response.

Adoption? You never thought about it before. The child may not be biologically yours, but you could still be its mother and Rafe could be its father. You could provide all the love and care that a baby needs. You would support the child in every decision, attend all their school events, and throw the most amazing birthday parties anyone has ever seen.

A big smile appeared on your face and Rafe immediately knew that adoption would be the solution to all your problems.

————

"Come on, Lily. Let's get you changed," you say with a smile, looking at the two-year-old girl in front of you.

She clapped her hands as giggles filled the room.

You and Rafe adopted Lily almost a year ago. Somehow she resembled both Rafe and you, having blue eyes like him and your hair color. Nevertheless, even if she didn't resemble either of you, it wouldn't change how much you loved her.

Lily was an angle, quite a shy child but after she saw people a few times she warmed up to them.

Today the three of you decided to go to the beach. You held two bathing suits in front of her, “What do you say, sweetie, pink or blue?”

“Bwu,” She smiled, her growing teeth showing.

She was adorable and you couldn’t be happier to be her mother.

You helped her into her bathing suit before picking her up and walking downstairs, where Rafe was already waiting.

“Dada!” She shouted, making grabby hands towards him.

“Well, look at you. Such a cute bathing suit.” He smiled, taking her out of your arms.

You couldn't believe how happy you finally were. Maybe you didn't carry Lily for nine months, but you and Rafe were certainly made to be her parents.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe #rafe outer banks #fluff #angst #obx #outer banks x reader #outer banks #outer banks x you #outer banks x y/n

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lxclerc · 2 years

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏 | 𝐝𝐫𝟑

SUMMARY: daniel will never allow himself to love you but you’ll never let yourself not love him. REQUESTED: nope WARNING: significant age gap (reader is 20, daniel is 27), suggestive language but no smut, christian horner but i actually made him bearable, forbidden love, angst PAIRING: rbr!daniel ricciardo x horner!reader WORD COUNT: 7.5k

NOTE: you guys don’t understand, this has been in my drafts for months and i’ve been struggling to finish it for so long. DISCLAIMER: this is completely inspired by @yungbludz dr3 fic called "too young" so the idea and concept belongs to her!

please don't be a ghost reader bc i am starved for validation!

— next part

MASTERLIST

if you wanted me then you really should have showed.

Daniel knew he shouldn’t have continued it. The first moment he laid his eyes on you and you flashed him that smile, he knew he was fucked. You were young and you’ve always looked at him with those adoring eyes. It was addicting, Daniel quickly realized. You and everything about you was addicting to him.

Daniel also knew that it was his job to stay away, to make sure there’s distance between the two of you. He’s the older one after all. You have just turned 20 and he’s venturing into his 30s. Daniel thought he could treat you like any other, not fall for you the way he knows he is, but it’s impossible to not return your smiles and even more impossible to stay away.

And god, it wasn’t like you made it easy for him. You aren’t stupid nor are you naive, but you’re armed with your youthful recklessness, pushing and pushing at him till he breaks. The way you run into his arms every other race, celebrating him no matter the result. The way your touch lingers just a second too long to be appropriate or how you angle your body fully towards him whenever you talk. The two of you were dancing about just how far you can go and how far Daniel would allow you.

You’re stubborn though, your recklessness and the excitement getting the best of you. You’re determined to make Daniel break one way or another, determined to get what you want.

Entering the red bull motorhome, no one pays you any mind. They’re used to your presence, following your father around paddock to paddock and so they pay you no mind as you pass by Max’s driver’s room on the way to Daniel’s. You don’t bother knocking, already knowing he’s alone.

Daniel was in the middle of zipping down his race suit, turning around to find you quietly slipping into his room, a small smile on your face as you wrap your arms around his torso, your face against his back.

Daniel released a shaky breath at your sudden closeness, shutting his eyes in an attempt to calm his nerves. It’s his job, he reminds himself. His job to keep you away. His job to not selfishly keep you to himself and so he gently removes your arms, turning to your pouting face.

“Be a good girl,” he all but muttered, not realizing that those words only make you want to push more.

“You did great,” you say instead, allowing him to step away from you. Everyone knows about your little crush on Daniel. Or at least that’s what they think it is, a phase, a school girl crush. You’re relentless, flirting and teasing, hand on his thigh, chin on his shoulder, a chaste kiss on his cheek. Always pushing till Daniel can feel himself slowly breaking, what’s left of his resistance chipping away.

Oftentimes when you tease him, Daniel does his best to laugh it away. “Maybe in ten years, kiddo.” he’d say, loving the way your lips pout at him.

But despite himself and what he should be doing, Daniel teases you too. He teases you by placing his hand too low on your back, his lips brushing against your ear when he’s whispering something. His touch is always firm on your skin, holding you back, keeping you in place. Daniel thinks he’s doing the noble cause of keeping you an arm’s length away but his body demands your presence, unable to fully push you away.

He could have told you to stop. He knows this and so do you. But he doesn’t because Daniel may be acting all self righteous but the thought of you pouring all your affection and attention to someone else was unbearable for him. It’s selfish he knows but you’re so intoxicating, so addicting. He can’t bear losing you but his guilty conscience can’t bear having you either.

He throws a smile at you, your adoring eyes making his heart flutter. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You situate yourself on the couch, watching as he continues zipping down his race suit. This is why you don’t stop because you know he wants you too. He wants you as much as you want him. You watch his back muscles flex as he removes his fireproofs off, slipping on a fresh shirt. You stay because he lets you. You’re here because he lets you be here. How can anyone ever say that Daniel Ricciardo isn’t as besotted to you as you are to him?

You smirk lightly as he faces you. “Maybe we can celebrate it over dinner.”

Your tradition of asking him out and his tradition of rejecting you had him laughing as he sat down on the sofa next to you, legs spread out as he placed a hand on your knee. “Maybe when you’re old enough, angel, I’ll go on a date with you.”

You pout lightly, shifting so you’re fully facing him. A smudge of lipstick on your lower lip and your eyes big as you stared at him. You grab his hand from your knee, entwining your fingers together as you bring his hand to your lips, planting a soft kiss on his knuckle, your lips soft against his skin. Daniel inhaled a deep breath, swallowing as he watched you. How could he ever think he can stay away?

“Sweetheart,” he mutters, a warning. You’re pushing too far, touching him far too gently.

You grinned, schooling your face into a perfect vision of innocence if only you’re able to rid that mischievous glint in your eyes that Daniel adores so much. He rarely ever calls you by your name, always a variation of a pet name or another either in that soft voice as if you’re a doll he’s terrified of breaking or the quiet warning voice letting you know that you’re pushing too far. Your favorite though, is when he’s drunk and far too intoxicated to even care about right from wrong, his arm wrapping themselves around your waist as he pulls you flush against his side, fingers gently grazing your face as he actually says your name. His voice is husky and always full of lust and adoration.

“God, Y/N,” he’d breathe against your ear, lips grazing your earlobe. “You’re going to kill me someday.”

“Daniel,” you mocked but nevertheless you return his hand on your thigh and if you placed it just a little bit higher, no one has any proof. Everyone thinks your infatuation with Daniel is just a phase, a young woman being enamored by an older man, everyone has heard that story before. Even your father never took it seriously and by their ignorance, they never noticed the way he looks at you and the way he lets you touch him. Daniel doesn’t touch you, at least not enough and not in the way you want him too. The hand on your thigh or knee or back always remains firmly planted there but Daniel does let you touch him. “I’ve never heard of such an uptight winner.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

It may be Daniel’s job to keep you away but he never did say he’s good at it. He doesn’t stop you as you shift closer to him, your hand placed on the crook where his jaw meets his neck as your lips gently pressed against the side of his lips. Close enough to know that you taste like strawberry chapstick and the coffee you drank earlier. Close enough to make him want more.

Maybe if everyone knew how the two of you acted when you’re alone then they’d be more concerned. All they’ve ever seen is Daniel shooting you down and rejecting you with a joke. They’ve never seen the way he watches your lips, hand squeezing your thigh as you hold him in your palms.

The truth is that Daniel has given you full control of him and his body. He may warn you and he may stop you sometimes but he’s a selfish man. He wants you so desperately, like a man starved or a moth dangerously drawn to the flame. If you asked nicely enough with that sweet voice of yours, Daniel would grant you anything.

You pull away before he can say anything, grinning as he groans. You grab his hand, pulling him up with you. The way he towers over you gives you a different kind of satisfaction. Knowing he can do whatever he wants with you has you hooked. “Come on, everyone’s waiting for you.”

“You’re cruel,” he tells you, his hand lightly pushing your hair back. “Absolutely cruel.”

You go on your tiptoes, placing your hand on his chest as Daniel slightly leaned down. Pressing a feathery kiss on his neck, you whispered against his skin. “Maybe if you tell me what you want.”

Daniel stiffened, his hold on you turning from gentle to stiff. “I shouldn’t want what I want.”

“That’s not my problem then.” With that, you pull away from his touch, throwing his door open as you all but skipped out of his drivers room, claiming victory. There’s nothing more exhilarating for you than getting a reaction out of him. Nothing gives you more satisfaction than watching him lose his grip on that resistance he’s stubbornly clutching.

You appear on your father’s side, a wide grin on your face that had Christian narrowing his eyes at you. “Were you bothering Daniel again?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y/N,” your father said in that tone that you know so well. It’s his not quite disappointed but still disapproving tone. He’s used it when trying to tell you off or discipline you. “You have to get over your little crush.”

Your grin only widens as you meet Daniel’s frustrated eyes across the room. He’s trying hard not to seem bothered, usual infectious smile on his face as he tries to avoid your gaze or the tightness in his pants. You only planted a chaste kiss on Christian’s cheek, not saying anything else before you’re out of the motorhome.

If only they knew.

but we were something, don’t you think so?

When you arrived at the party, half the team was already drunk out of their minds. Max saw you first, a smile pulling at the boy’s lips as he embraced you. Others may disagree due to their unwarranted hatred for him but you find Max to be incredibly perceptive and thus a great friend. He knew there was something real between you and Daniel the first time he saw the two of you act around each other. He’s incredibly sensitive to the people around him and not at all like the cold, detached driver the media portrays him as.

“I’m surprised you’re not as drunk as the rest of them,” you told him with a smile.

“I think Daniel is going to kill me with his mind,” Max jokes as his arm stays around you, the aussie across the room with the mechanics and engineers, dark eyes trained on you.

Daniel raised his glass up as your eyes met, the redness in his face told you he’s already halfway drunk. You feel a flutter of excitement at his invitation. You loved Daniel most like this, a little drunk but not too drunk, enough to let go of all of his reservations when it came to keeping you at an arm’s length.

“I’ll see you later,” you tell Max with a smile, squeezing his hand before you slip out of his hold. Max playfully rolls his eyes, already knowing where you’re going but you pay him no mind, making your way across the room to where Daniel stood.

Daniel, already tipsy like the rest of the bar, immediately laid his claim as his arm sneaked around you, pulling you to his chest disguise as a greeting hug, perhaps not looking much different from the one you and Max had just shared if it isn’t for his cold lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, pulling away from you but keeping his hand situated on the small of your back. He has to touch you. He knows he shouldn’t but with you looking like that, it’s practically impossible for him not to.

With that same mischievous glint in your eyes, you lightly smirk at him. “Just beautiful?”

“I’d say ravishing but I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that,” he admits, taking a swig of his drink to which he offers to you.

You practically preen under his half drunk confession, happy that the little white dress you put on did as it’s supposed to. “Considering we’re in Austin, I don’t think you should be offering me a drink, Mr. Ricciardo.”

“Right. Forgot you’re a little baby,” he says, hand slipping a little lower. There’s a certain mockery in his voice but perhaps not aimed at you but rather on him, being reminded once again just how young you are.

But of course, you being you, took it as a challenge, grabbing the drink out of his hand, chugging it all down in one go. You try hard not to let the bitter taste show on your face, having the urge to spit it all out but instead, you grinned smugly at him, your arms wrapping themselves around his waist as the dark club lighting gives you a false sense of confidence. “What was that?”

Daniel practically groans at your sudden closeness, your scent overwhelming his senses and his spinning mind but he doesn’t push you away. It doesn’t even enter his mind, morality and logic being thrown out the window after a few glasses of alcohol. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna get me in trouble.”

And god, the thoughts running through his mind as you stare up at him like that with big adoring eyes and pouty lips that looks so fucking kissable is enough to get him locked up. “Let’s make it worth it then.”

With that, you grab a bottle of what you assume to be vodka from the table the members of the team are occupying and then his hand with your free hand, pulling him away from the crowd and into the hallway leading to the toilets. The club, a high end one known for its VIP guests, thankfully has clean toilets as you pull Daniel inside, not even caring what it must look like.

“I know I’m drunk but I’m not drunk enough to fuck you in a bathroom,” he tells you immediately.

You roll your eyes as you shut the door behind you, making sure to lock it. Usually, Daniel makes a point not to use such vulgar words with you and the sound of his breathy voice along with the visualization he presented in your mind was enough to cause a shiver.

The thought of you with your dress bunched up your waist, his hands all over your skin, in places you’ve been dying for him to touch, had your cheeks turning a bright red, lust mixed with the alcohol you gulped down fogging your mind.

Daniel must be thinking of the same thing as he buries his hands deep into his pocket, taking a step back from you – which isn’t much considering the tight space you’re in. The thought of you on your knees for him, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat as you look up at him with those eyes was enough to have him straining his jeans. His usual light eyes looked a shade darker as he studied your features, as if making a point to put space between the two of you in a way to prevent himself from touching you.

You took your time opening the bottle, using it as a way to stoll as you avoided his eyes. “Don’t worry, my intentions doesn’t involve seducing you into fucking me in a club bathroom.”

“Could have fooled me, baby.” Daniel all but scoffs from your words but says nothing else as you lean against the sink, taking a sip of the vodka that immediately had your face scrunching in disgust before you offer it to him.

“It’s unfair that I don’t get to drink at all, don’t you think so?” You tease lightly, a weak excuse but you know Daniel would accept it rather than speak your real reasons out loud.

Speaking it out loud is dangerous. Speaking it out loud is admitting it to himself along with the fact that he hadn’t exactly stopped you as you pulled him away, his own hand gripping yours minutes ago as you navigate your way through the throng of people.

So instead, he accepts the vodka and takes his own swig, much smoother than you had. “I can’t believe I’m aiding underage drinking.”

You grin at him again. You both know he would do anything you ask without asking them. He’s weak, puny with your touch and how being with you makes him feel as though he’s going 250 miles per hour. There’s a certain adrenaline that comes with you, a certain thrill of knowing he shouldn’t be there, that he shouldn’t be letting you touch him.

He is but a man after all and god knows he’s a man fueled with desire – desire for your lips, your body, for you. How is he meant to say no when you’re looking at him like that?

You reach forward, pulling him by his shirt. You’ve always been a lightweight and he’s drunk enough that his hands found themselves on your hips. “You know, if you’re never going to go out with me, you should kiss me at least once. Maybe I’ll move on after that.”

Daniel raised a teasing eyebrow. The thought of you moving on from him didn’t exactly give him pleasant feelings but he plays it off. “Is that so?”

“Hmm,” you agree, innocently nodding your head along. “Since you won’t fuck me.”

His finger pushed back your hair back, exposing your neck for him to plant feathery kisses on, his lips causing you to stiffen. You hadn’t actually thought he’d indulge, thinking he’s already used to your suggestive teasing at this point but Daniel must be drunker than you thought as his hold on your hip tightened, pushing you against his body.

“Such a fucking tease,” he muttered, tongue swiping along the sensitive skin on your neck. “I’d ruin every other boy for you if I fuck you, baby, and that just doesn’t seem very fair.”

Your breath is shaky as your hand slipped from under his shirt, feeling the defined lines of his abs. You half expect him to push you away as he had before but Daniel’s far too gone to care, your touch going straight into his most sensitive nerves.

“Could you actually?” You tried to sound smug but your voice came out shaky as Daniel’s hand slipped down your bare thigh.

Daniel placed his forehead against yours, his conscience desperately fighting to hold on to his logic but it’s like the taste of your skin had him going crazy and he can’t help but wonder if the taste of you is as sweet as you look.

“Not here,” he says with a breathy groan, his want eventually winning over his logic. “Wanna be stone cold sober for that.”

It’s your turn to groan, so incredibly wet you can feel it pooling on your underwear. “Now who’s the tease?”

You practically let out a grunt of protest as he moves away from you, returning the space between the two of you as he once again buried his hands deep into his pockets. You roll your eyes at his resistance, taking another swig of vodka.

“Behave,” he tells you lowly.

You throw your hand up in innocence, begrudgingly accepting that you’ll have no choice but to stay on your side of the small bathroom.

if my wishes came true, it would have been you.

For the longest time, you had been content with whatever the two of you had. You were both addicted to the thrill of practically sneaking around, knowing glances and lingering touches. You knew it wouldn’t be possible. Daniel would never allow himself to fully fall for you but you can’t help but want it anyway.

Your life continued on as it is with you teasing him every chance you got, him rejecting you with a joke to try and pull the pout of your lips. Everyone would laugh – mechanics, engineers, your father and you’d pretend to sulk before a smile eventually paints your face.

You like the game. You like being the only one knowing the meaning of his stares. You like that when you’re alone, he can’t handle not touching you. You like the challenge and the continuous pushing till one of you breaks. You’ve always been patient, a little cunning, biding your time as you kept your eyes on the prize. You don’t mind waiting. You don’t mind the half confessions and the hesitant, regretful touches.

During the summer break, you hadn’t hesitated to text Daniel every chance you got, even calling him at night when you know your parents and your siblings are asleep. You would have worried about bothering him if only his reply didn't immediately come and your calls barely had time to ring.

You know he likes talking to you too. He would have told you otherwise. He keeps up with your flirting and teasing, listening as you talk about your day. Sometimes when you say you miss him, he says it back with that tone in his voice – helpless, as though missing you renders him defenseless.

The race after the summer break, Daniel hadn’t hesitated to hug you just as tight as you did him despite the people around you. Everyone but Max didn’t think much of it, passing it off as a friendly hug between two friends who hadn’t seen each other for a while.

That same night, after the high of the race, you’re waiting in the car with him as everyone packs up. You’re waiting for Max and your father, scrolling through your phone as Daniel draws circles on your knee.

“I have something to tell,” he says after a while, making you look up at him.

It’s dark inside the car but you can still see Daniel’s profile as he faced you. “Yeah?”

“I haven’t told anyone yet. Not even Christian,” he starts, the sentence immediately had you tensing up. Rumors about Daniel’s future had been circulating around all month. His contract would be ending soon and every team’s desperate to have him. You always thought that was all it was though; rumors. You knew there had been tension between who’s first driver and who’s second but you always thought Daniel would renew his contract.

“Don’t,” you say immediately, your heart sinking to your stomach at the mere thought of it.

Daniel’s hand on your knee stops, offering you a smile when he sees the sadness in your eyes. “We’ll still see each other. It’s not like I’m going away. We’ll still see each other around the Paddock.”

Tears suddenly blurred your vision. Daniel would be leaving Red Bull and you along with it. “It won’t be the same.”

Daniel was a little taken aback by your tears. He’s never seen you cry before and he quickly decides that he doesn’t like the sight. “We’ll still be frie–”

“Don’t you dare say friends,” you warn. “We aren’t just friends, Daniel, and you’re lying if you say otherwise.”

His movements halted, the silent fury in your voice impossible to miss. The two of you never actually spoke of whatever you are. All of it remains unspoken, a silent agreement and he never thought you’d bring it up so easily. “Y/N–”

But at that exact moment, the car door opened, cutting him off as you immediately pushed his hand away, trying your best to discreetly wipe your tears. Your father was focused on his phone, oblivious to the tension he had just walked into but Max, who obviously saw how Daniel was touching you, could see your tear stained cheeks.

He tries to get your attention to silently ask you if you were okay, but you stubbornly stare down at your phone, ignoring Daniel’s worried glances being thrown at you.

“Y/N,” Christian says, finally looking up from his own phone to you. By then your tears have dried and the darkness in the car hides your red eyes. “Your mother was asking if you’re coming home. I already told her that you’re staying till next week–”

“No,” you cut him off, your voice a little shaky. If Daniel hadn’t spent every night thinking about you, he wouldn’t have noticed it either. “I want to go home.”

You kept your eyes forward despite Daniel’s stare at the side of your head.

Your father’s eyebrow creased. “I thought you said you wanted to stay till Monza?”

“I changed my mind,” you say. “I’d like to go home. As soon as possible please.”

Christian stared at your face. You might think he didn’t notice but he is your father. He knows something, something that made you immediately want to get away and if you want to leave then he wouldn’t stop you. He nods finally, “alright. I can have a flight fixed for you later. I’ll let your mum know.”

You force a smile on your face, still completely ignoring Daniel’s stare. “Thanks, dad.”

Throughout the night, you ignore Daniel. You don’t answer his texts or calls nor open the door for him. Perhaps it’s childish but the thought of him leaving you hurt much more than you wanted to admit. It felt like a betrayal. You always believed there was something more between the two of you, something unspoken and unsaid. Sure, you liked to play but you genuinely did believe it was something real. It feels as though he was abandoning you, choosing to run rather than face whatever’s been brewing between the two of you for months.

He’s going to leave you and you’re starting to realize that maybe you are young and naive like he always implied you were. Maybe everything was just your imagination and he feels nothing for you at all. Maybe you’re just a stupid teenager to him, playing you on his palm.

But that doesn’t sound right either. Daniel would never. Even if he doesn’t share your feelings, he would never do that to anyone, much less you.

Eventually though, he stops knocking on your door and your phone chimes with another text saying he’ll give you space, reminding you that you know where he is when you’re willing to talk again. And like the previous messages before that, you ignore it. Instead, you pack up your things and head straight to the airport.

As you watch the scenery change till the view of home comes around, you feel as though you’ve just got your heart broken, once again feeling like a teenager after your first breakup with your first boyfriend. But somehow it hurts more.

The next few days aren’t much different. You ignore Daniel’s messages and calls, throwing yourself into spending as much time with your little siblings as possible. During your time away from the paddocks and from him, the ache in your chest doesn’t subside but you do manage to put your childishness away, your logic returning to you.

At first, you stubbornly held on to your belief that he’s abandoning you, easier to paint him the bad guy to give yourself the justification of being angry at him. He says you can remain friends and that you’d still see each other around the paddock, still spend time together, but you knew it would be different. Your schedules wouldn’t be the same. You wouldn’t have any reason to follow him around throughout the day. You would lose him, spend much less time with him. You’d no longer have little moments in his drivers room or loud laughs in the plane.

It would be different – the kind of different that you don’t like but despite it, you know your actions are unjustified and childish. Max is a great driver and he’s meant to do great things. It’s obvious that red bull is investing more time on him and you know that Daniel doesn’t deserve that. Daniel doesn’t deserve to settle with being second to Max. He was doing it for his career and you’re making it about you

And so despite your aching heart and the sinking fear in your stomach that you’d lose what little of Daniel he gives you, you eventually come to the conclusion that you owe him an apology. He doesn’t deserve to be ignored by you when he’s only doing what’s best for him and his career.

So after two weeks of ignoring him, you decide to put away your pride and call him back. However, anyone who knows you knows it’s your ego that drives you. You’re as competitive and as arrogant as your father. You don’t like being told no or admitting your mistakes. Wasn’t that why you’re still chasing Daniel?

And so you spend the entire day making excuses after excuses – whether it be playing with your sister in the pool or taking your brother to the park. You made excuses and scenarios that would keep you away from your phone.

Though as you open twitter, you realize maybe it’s for the better. The words before you are glaring and piercing accompanied with a picture that makes you want to throw your phone against the wall. The account that posted it is an F1 gossip account, one that you followed months before mostly as a joke after a particularly hilarious fake rumor about Max. You absolutely regret not unfollowing it now though as the photo that greeted you is one of Daniel, wearing one of his party shirts and looking a little drunk as he exits what appears to be a club, a woman whose face you can’t see properly is behind him, their hands entwined and their heads bowed.

“Red Bull driver Daniel Ricciardo seen leaving a club holding hands with a mystery woman.” The caption cruelly said, making you want to vomit as your chest suddenly felt heavier.

That night, you locked yourself in your room. This was worse than him leaving Red Bull. This is worse than any high school heartbreak you’ve been through. You were right after all. You are just a child to him. He played you so well. And like a naive idiot, you fell right for it.

You were wrong. Daniel is that kind of person. He feels nothing for you. There was never anything real between the two of you. You had imagined everything, so desperate for him that you’ve fooled yourself into thinking that he might feel the same.

At the end of the day, no one can be blamed but you. Your own stubbornness to let him go eventually being the cause of your heartbreak.

Max calls you. You know he knows and he knows that you know. He leaves you a bunch of messages as well. Eventually though, you realize he’s just being a good friend checking on you and so you send him a text assuring him you’re okay. Your mother calls you for dinner, you claim you're not hungry, not even opening the door for her. An hour later, she calls for you again, mentioning you hadn’t had lunch. You assure her you’re okay. Your father texts you, asking if you’re fine as your mother let him know that you aren’t eating. You tell him you’re just tired. Two hours later, your mother sends in your little sister, your known weakness. You eventually give in, unable to resist her adorable toddler face as you accept a sandwich.

Daniel calls you. He texts you too. He spams all of your social media. Far too tired, you shut off your phone, placing it screen down on your bedside table as you cry the night away.

A week passes and little by little, your sadness turns to anger. Suddenly it didn’t matter that he’s leaving or he doesn’t want you back. The only thing that matters is to get even. After you read your siblings a bedtime story, you open your phone for the first time in a week, ignoring the multitude of notifications coming in, nearly all from Daniel, and dial your father’s number.

You tell him you miss formula 1. You ask if you can join for the next few races. Not having heard from his eldest for an entire week, he’s more than happy to have everything fixed for you and the next day, you’re on a plane to Belgium.

You arrive on a Friday morning and despite your body craving sleep, you hop into the shower, making a point to perfect your makeup and curl your hair to perfection. You wear a white flowy, backless dress that barely reaches your thigh – casual enough to not have anyone question you but revealing enough to turn heads.

You’re a woman scorned with a mission in mind. If Daniel doesn’t want you, well then you’re just gonna have to show him what he’s missing.

When you step into the Red Bull Motorhome, it’s half an hour before quali. Immediately, Daniel who’s squatting in a corner with headphones on, turns to you, his eyes slightly widening as it meets yours. You look like you walked out of a daydream and Daniel can feel his heart mending and breaking even more at the sight of you.

The past month without you has been complete hell. Every after race, he always expects to find you sneaking into his drivers room only to be disappointed each time. He never thought how much you’re integrated into his day till he had to adjust without you in it. His hand craves to touch you, his arms craves to hold you. Your fading scent in his clothes haunt him with each day that passes.

Now though, you’re back and Daniel swears you’re a devil sent from his very own personal hell to torment him. But he never was good at ignoring temptation as he pulled himself up, making a beeline towards you. Your presence, your scent, you overwhelm him as he stands in front of you, his hands itching to reach forward and pull you towards his chest.

“Y/N,” he starts, voice breathy as though he can’t quite believe that it’s you. He’s gotten so used to imagining you in order to cope with missing you that actually having you so close again feels like a fever dream.

“Good luck out there,” you say and the sound of your voice after so many weeks is enough to cause him shivers. You casually pat his shoulder as you push yourself past him.

Daniel is frozen in place. He expected you to scoff, frown, pout. He expected you to glare at him and maybe even scream. He expected anger because he knows it’s what he deserves but he feels his heart break a little as you offer him a smile – not like your usual ones that he adores, but rather a polite, detached smile lacking both emotion and sincerity. You’re looking at him like he’s a stranger, someone who doesn’t matter, a presence you’re only tolerating.

This is worse than anger, he decides. Anger and fury he can take and maybe he can even match but your cold indifference he knows he will never be able to handle.

He watched as you walked towards Max, that usual smile you’ve reprieved from him now on your face as you throw your arms around the dutchman. He watches as Max’s hand settles on the exposed skin of your back. You’re punishing him. And maybe a part of him believes that he deserves it. You should have punished him long before he let it come to this, but still, he despises the sinking feeling in his stomach.

but it would have been fun if you would have been the one.

Daniel is slowly but surely losing his mind. He’s a mess and it’s all your fault. The sight of you with your tiny dresses and perfectly done makeup walking around in the paddock as you smile at everyone but him is cruel.

But the sight of you in some new other man’s arms is worse. A mechanic or an engineer, an intern or a trainer. You entertain everyone that gives you attention, letting them touch you and stand close to you as long as Daniel can see. It’s driving him insane. You refuse to talk to him, not even giving him a chance to start a conversation. You even refuse to look at him and if Daniel isn’t completely at his wits ends, he would have acknowledged how much your actions hurt. He misses looking into your eyes. He misses your scent and your smiles. He misses your jokes and your laughs. He misses everything about you but instead he’s stuck watching you from afar.

Eventually though, you’re unable to play your game forever and Daniel is unable to hold himself back much longer. Justifications that this is the best for you no longer means much to him as he stared at you from across the club — another goddamn club.

It’s your 21st birthday celebration and Daniel is sure that if he hadn’t been part of the team, you wouldn’t have been forced to invite him. It’s not like his presence makes much difference though considering you haven’t looked at his general direction the moment he arrived hours ago. Instead, he’s left by himself, watching the way your hair bounces as you jump up and down, a careless smile on your face and your laugh often echoing around the club.

Daniel thought you looked sinfully beautiful, some guy’s arms around you as the two of you jumped to the beat.

He also thought that you’re a goddamn pain in the ass, his resolve slowly slipping away as he watched you. You’re doing it on purpose, he’s sure. Taunting and teasing, pride and ego and the need to get even. Truly, he knows you too well.

As it turns out though, it’s you who breaks first. You hadn’t meant to, far too drunk to understand anything apart from the fact that you missed him.

Daniel turned around for a moment, having decided that if he’s going to watch you and wallow in jealousy the entire night then he might as well get drunk. He may not be the best at keeping you away but he is good at staying away, determined to follow your lead if it meant ending whatever the two of you had for your own good.

Perhaps this is the universe giving him a chance to correct his mistakes, to actually put you first over his own selfish desire to keep you for himself.

And if it meant you hating him then Daniel is going to force himself to live with it.

But still, the sight of you suddenly gone from the corner of the club you’ve been occupying the entire night and suddenly he couldn’t help the sudden worry sinking in his stomach. He waits for a few minutes, hoping you just went to the bathroom or something of the sorts but when ten minutes passes and you’re still not back, Daniel’s worry becomes far too much to ignore as he pushes himself off the bar stool, fighting his way through the throng of people.

He goes to Max first, asking the dutchman where you were to which the younger driver replied with a small shrug, far too drunk to even properly process his words. Daniel rolled his eyes, all but marching into the women’s bathroom as he checked for you only to find it completely empty, seemingly only increasing his worry.

It’s a few minutes later after practically turning the entire club upside down that he finally finds you, keys of his rental car in his hand with the purpose of going to your hotel to see if you’d made it home safely.

But he stopped in his tracks at the sight of you sitting on the pavement, head against your knees and shivering. You look small and vulnerable and he can’t help the way his heart breaks.

“Y/N!” He calls, jogging towards you. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

You look up, eyes squinted as he kneeled before you, hand instinctively going on your shoulder as he assessed your figure for any sort of injury or explanation.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, voice small and hoarse. Earlier you were full of life as you drank the night away, determined to show Daniel what he lost but now your body feels heavy and all you want to do is cry.

Daniel stared at you and the defeat in your eyes. Heaving a sigh, he shrugs off his jacket and places it around your shoulder. He knew that he should probably take you to your hotel now but you looked so lost and terrified that he can’t phantom the thought of leaving your side.

And so he stalls. He stalls by sitting next to you instead, making sure there’s space between the two of you.

And for a moment, there’s nothing but silence. The loud music from the club doesn’t reach you nor does the chatter. All you can hear is the way your heart breaks once again so close after so many weeks. You want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and let him comfort you. You want to let him fix everything and let you naively hope.

But too many words are left unsaid and too much heartache has been caused. You regret it all now; your petty revenge plan and walking out on him when he told you he was moving. You regret ignoring his calls and seeing that photo of him with a girl. You regret the months spent before that falling for him believing you had any control of yourself, believing that you’d easily pull yourself up if you fell.

And you understand now too. You understand now why Daniel has always held back, why he never truly allowed himself to love you. It’s because of this. He never wants you to feel this. He was trying to spare you from having to experience this kind of heartbreak once you realized nothing will ever come out between the two of you.

Daniel has always been longing. He’s always been lust and desire and hope. You never thought he could be pain too.

“You’re allowed to love me, you know,” you say, barely a whisper. “Please love me.”

It takes Daniel a few moments to answer, feeling his heart seemingly getting heavier in his chest as your voice breaks. He never wanted to see you so broken, especially not because of him.

“Loving you was never the problem,” he finally says, his voice just as quiet as if he’s telling a secret to the winds. “Loving you too much was.”

“You can’t love someone too much,” you say, your tone becoming defensive as you desperately clutch onto straws of hope that maybe the two of you could work out. “You just love me.”

And Daniel finally looks at you, meeting your eyes for the first time in weeks. “I do. I do love you. I love you so much that I’m not stealing your youth from you. I love you so much that I refuse to take advantage of you.”

You couldn’t help the tears that slipped from your eyes as all of your will shattered. You couldn’t help the way you flung yourself at him as you sobbed into his shoulder. Daniel’s arms around you are instinctive, holding you close to his chest as if he could hold you together as you break apart.

And he’ll let go of you now. He took you to your hotel room and kissed your forehead goodbye. He let you keep his jacket as he removed his arms from around you. He wiped your tears as his own fell. It was a goodbye, an ending.

Daniel loves you. He loves you with his entire soul. And that’s precisely the problem. He loved you so much he’d let you go.

“Maybe in a few years,” you all but plead as you clutch at his shirt, knowing that letting go of him now might mean forever. “When I’m old enough, you can love me again.”

He smiled. As if he’d ever stop loving you. “In a few years then.”

He used to believe there were only two types of love; the kind you’d die for and the kind you’d kill for but god, he’d live for you.

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#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo angst #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #formula 1 one shot #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader

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semicolonsspace · 6 months

Text

TW: Boyfriend! Void Stiles, High sex drive!Reader, Mention of sex toys, Bondage(use of duct tape/zip ties), Somniphillia(previous consent given), P N V, Blowjob (f to m), Mention of cunnilingus, Dom!Void Stiles, Sub!Reader, Brat!Reader, Degradation/pet names(use of Dove & Pet), Praise kink(Mention of one being proud), Spanking/impact play.

------

Y/n could remember when she first met her boyfriend Void. He was sitting on the sofa at Scott's house. The Duct tape on his mouth and bandages on his stomach. While Mellissa bandaged him, Y/n could not take her eyes off his torso. Her thighs were constantly clenched as she examined him across the room. Eventually, Melissa left due to fear of the evil spirit and returned to the kitchen with the others. Y/n stayed, glaring at the thousand-year-old demon. Her legs were crossed elegantly, her arms on the arms of the chair while her foot bounced to ease her nerves.

Void couldn't help but stare back at the girl, seemingly being interested in why she wasn't showing fear. It looked like she was angry at him if anything, which he was used to... but she was calm and angry, and it intrigued him.

Y/n stands up, stalking toward the tied-up boy slowly. She squats down next to him and rips the tape off. "As much as the others hate when you speak, I'm curious how you are for myself, instead of listening to the stories."

His jaw moves to the side as a result of ripping the tape off, turning into a smirk. "Do you want to make stories for yourself, dove?"

Y/n opens her mouth to speak and it snaps shut as soon as it opens, Why the fuck did he call her that? And why did she feel more aroused? "You're not going to switch this game so you're in control. I can just put the duct tape on again," Y/n raises her shoulders with fake annoyance. She wasn't that annoyed, the only annoyance she had for him was he was the reason why she was so turned on. Ever since she stepped foot into the room she couldn't keep her eyes off him. How he looked like he hadn't slept in months, or how even when he was tied up he had so much confidence... For no reason... except he still looked so attractive.

Void tilts his head toward her, "Are we playing games?"

"Not yet."

Void chuckles at her. "Are you going to ask about Stiles or not?" Void sighed, knowing what was on her little mind of hers.

Y/n shakes her head, but then a question pops up in her head. "Do you know how he feels about things?" Y/n asks curiously. Void nods his head, pointing to it gesturing that Stiles was watching. "Does he hate me?" She asks sitting next to him, her legs at an angle toward his knees. She had a solemn face, her lips being chewed by her teeth.

Stiles and her would always bicker at each other. Anytime the other was near, the other would complain. Y/n always had felt subconsciously hurt about this. She didn't hate him, he just never gave her a chance.

Void blinked at her slowly, he looked at her like he knew. Like he knew what was on her filthy mind of hers. He eyes her clenching thighs, his eyes slowly connecting with hers. His eyes were filled with a predatory gaze. She noticed this, not being able to stop her body from clenching her trembling thighs. She craved him, and she just met him. A demon that was a thousand years old and possessed her sworn enemy.

"He's mean to you because he doesn't know how to treat a lady. He's young... Ignorant..." Void whispers, breaking the silence. The silence was more like sexual tension.

Her head snapped to his from her lap. "What?" Y/n asks before her brain can stop herself. What was he even saying? Of course, Stiles is young.

"You need someone with more experience- Someone like me, dove."

Y/n scoffs. She grabs the tape and slaps it back onto his face. "Can't believe I thought you wouldn't turn this into a game."

Now Y/n was lying next to her boyfriend Void. She couldn't help but keep thinking of that interaction. He knew that she was aroused because of him back then. And she knew as well... From the number of times, she squeezed her thighs hard and from her lustful gazes across the room, it was obvious to an old soul. And it was obvious to her now that he knew, like looking through crystal clear glass.

Luckily though, they both had an agreement. Stiles could use her for pain or chaos so he could survive and she could use him for any sexual deed that she wanted. At first, when he gave her the option to do so she declined. She thought he was crazy, that was when she was horny out of her mind again and came begging for him to fuck her so they could seal the deal. After that Void would follow her everywhere, much to the pack's disliking. But Void was compliant; Stiles was too, he tried to not bicker with his look-alike. Like a mutual agreement so everyone could have what they wanted. Sometimes it bothered Stiles how he would randomly smack her ass hard and suck the pain out but at least they tried.

Y/n rolls over off the bed, finally acting on her arousal. She quietly gets a box from under the box, grabbing the roll of black duct tape that lay under all her many of toys.

Now she was under the covers, pulling out his dick and sucking it as he slept. His dick was quickly hardening as she licked him, her mouth occasionally sucking. His thick length dripped precum as she did so, the salty taste that she loved bombarding her tastebuds. She bobbed on him, one hand handling his sensitive balls while the other lay on his stomach. His stomach muscles twitched against her hand, his breathing now becoming loud.

Before anything else could happen, she straddles him, stripping herself from her clothes. Now the zip ties were around his wrists and duct tape on his lips, not before checking if air came out of his nose so he could breathe.

"This has to be one of the nastiest things I've done," Y/n thought. But she didn't care, I mean she woke up with him eating her out numerous times.

Breaking out of her doubted thoughts she hovers over his dick, the red tip spreading her labia folds as it grazed against her. She starts bouncing slowly, her hands on his tied ones that were on his stomach.

Now the pressure and the horniness were going to her head. She gives up on trying not to wake him up. She bounces on him harder, her hands now toying with one of her tits while the other toyed with her clit slowly. Her slick made it easy for her to ride him fast, as well as his dick to rub against her ridges inside.

His eyes open abruptly, groans now filling the room louder. He watched her be in her own world. She hadn't even realized that he was awake yet.

In one quick moment, he rips open the ties, his tape next. Now she was on the bed, tape on her own hands and mouth. She was on her stomach. Her elbows were toward her chest, the tape restricting her movement anywhere else.

He slams his erect dick in her, surprised at how quickly the situation has changed for her, she yelps. "Such a naughty dove, using my body while I sleep... Interrupted my beautiful dream of me fucking you... kind of like this..." Void explains. His hands that were on his hips spread her ass, now massaging the needy flesh as he fucked into her hard.

Y/n licks the tape, wanting to be able to speak and moan for him. "Please Void... Fuck me like you mean it."

"Don't be such a brat, Y/n," Void spat. "You're-" He thrusted hard into her, grazing against her spot that made her eyes roll back. "The one that used my body- just like I told you could- I'm so proud you've finally done so... I've been waiting for months to fuck you like this," Void murmurs. He lands a quick smack on her ass, emitting a loud cry of pain from her. He rubs it, drinking the pain from her ass into his body. The black veins travel up to his face, his head rolling and his eyes rolling back in such beautiful pleasure. He lands another, "Such a good pet," He groans. His voice was so low, growling as he fucked into her as if his life depended on it, which ironically it did, he consumed that exoticness of him fucking her.

Next, he manhandles her, pulling her into his naked chest. His arm holds her under her chest, his other hand still on her hip. Y/n screams at the new angle. Thank the universe for allowing her to have no neighbors... He kisses her neck affectionately. He knows that she dies inside when he does that, moans and profanity flying out of her mouth. "My hands, please... They hurt too bad-" In an instant the tape gets snapped off. He held her hands, rubbing them while taking the pain. All while he does this his thrusts never stop. She turns her head to look at him- Just the domestic look in his eyes easily pushes her over the edge.

"Just because you finished, doesn't mean I'm done with you, Dove," Void Growls. He pushes her down, her face landing on the soft sheets of their bed.

#teen wolf #dylan o'brien #stiles stilinski #stiles #stiles x reader #stiles x reader smut #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf smut #tw #Void #void stiles x reader #void stiles #void stiles smut #void stiles imagines #Dom!Void Stiles #Sub!reader #Brat!Reader

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capslocked · 1 year

Text

DECAF

male reader x chou tzuyu

5k words

"Figured you should know," Tzuyu says, appearing in the bathroom mirror behind you, "you’re all out of coffee."

This unfortunate revelation comes as you’re halfway into brushing your teeth. Comes when her warm arm reaches around your waist, fingers splaying out across your stomach before they decide to slip past the waistband of your pajamas.

"Did you—" You raise an eyebrow at her before leaning over the sink to spit, and the mouthful of toothpaste no longer muddles the question, "check the cupboard above the fridge?"

"And the pantry." Tzuyu gives your cock an experimental pump. "And the hall closet."

As you eye her reflection, Tzuyu is already distracted, trading one vice for another: dragging her lips against the side of your neck. Of all the places she loved to be—at your side, in your arms, on the end of your cock—the pucker-shaped bruises shadowing in across your throat were beginning to indicate something of a clear favorite.

"Hey." You drag the toothbrush out of your mouth, minty foam nearly drooling off your lip as you let out a dry laugh at the fingers wrapping your cock. "Can you, like, give me a minute?"

Tzuyu looks up over your shoulder, straight into the mirror and blinks a few times. Caffeine conundrum aside, it’s not a sleepy kind of blink, rather the kind that might buy one but a moment to think, get their thoughts in order. She rolls her eyes, because she likes getting what she wants, especially when you’re involved, but you like her better when she’s a little riled up, after the suspense of waiting has caught up with her. Chipped away at that prim and proper outer layer of perfection.

"No," she says finally in a surprisingly steady voice, and squeezes her fingers tighter around you. Gets a couple of gentle pumps going under your shorts. "I don’t think I will."

It’s not through any fault of her own, but she looks an ounce less put together than when you both staggered through the front door of your apartment the night before—you’d gotten your hands into the delicately styled waves in her hair and as a result, all those primly smooth toffee-brown locks either tightly curled or straightened stiff to their own volition. Then it’s your sweatshirt thrown over her shoulders, she’s absolute swimming in it. Perhaps impossible to not find it endearing. And her cheeks, still flush (because oh, had you just done a real number on her) are smoldering and probably hot to the touch. You usually have no problem getting out of bed in the morning, but the fact that she’d woken you up with her ass in your hips made it hard not pick up where you’d left off the night before.

That fact that she’s all bundled lust and sin in your arms, playfully teasing your cock between her fingers and looking at you like you’re the one who’s at fault is en route to the same outcome again.

By the time the two of you are out of the bathroom and stumbling down the hall, it’s all hot kisses and heavy hands, working toward a common goal one moment, tugging gently at your hair, lined firm beneath her jaw, faces pressed together in this sloppy, consuming kiss—and antagonistic the next, silencing the loud smacks between your lips as Tzuyu begins to tug your shirt up over head.

Tzuyu pushes you down the hallway which is every bit as ludicrous as it sounds, presses your back against drywall with a hand at your waist, and gets her fingertip tracing a lazy circle over your chest. "Hey," she says, and her voice comes out cool and composed like she isn’t standing there in her underwear, the long lines of her legs getting tangled up with yours. "Do you think it’s bad?"

"Gotta be more specific, beautiful," you tell her, snaking a hand up her sweatshirt. Still no shirt. No bra. The same as how she woke up.

As she leans her body against you, all gentle angles and immaculate curves that would make Euclid roll in his grave, you’ve got a handful of incredible ass to knead and a second sinking fingers into her chest that makes her question come across all that much more ridiculous:

"That the two of us are always together, you know, like this." And even as she considers—however seriously—that the two of you might spend too much time behind closed doors and under fitted sheets making each other cum over and over and over until you’re gasping and red in the face, she begins to rut her hips gently against you, finds a circle of motion that brushes your stiff cock between her legs in just the right way.

"Well," you say, voice trailing while your thumb skates beneath her lip, admiring how much better she looks in your hands than on TV, in magazines, all glitzed up in studio lighting and digital effect.

And psychologically, you think you understand it. How this is the only way the two of you can put any part of yourselves—the joint self, the you and Tzuyu, the combined unit—first. You can’t do what regular couples do; you can’t indulge in everything that Tzuyu so desperately wants to do. You want to as well. Of course, you don’t whine about it as much as Tzuyu, but in reality, there’s nothing more than you’d like than to hold Tzuyu’s hand in the middle of a crowded street or kiss her passionately in an airport terminal, in front of a tourist attraction, get an indulgent makeout going at a concert or a bar like you see of so many other couples. You see them all the time, so happy, so wrapped up in each other, so oblivious to what they get to enjoy that you don’t.

So you’re both lenient about the going-ons in the privacy of your own home. To a degree.

Doesn’t mean you can’t say you try to be responsible about it, keep the way you two go at each other in check, under control. You know better than to let Tzuyu have access to you where her name is up in lights, where cameras are flashing and under all those prying eyes, where the two of you could turn a mistake into calamity.

But still you like to test those limits.

"How do you figure?" You nuzzle your lips into Tzuyu’s neck. Her response is exactly like what you expect: a heavy sigh and a tilt of her chin that tells you to kiss her more, touch her more, get your mouth all over her and make her feel good. When you get closer to her ear, you whisper, "where’s the harm?"

"I just think we really have to be more careful," Tzuyu has to tell you. Frequently. "You know you drive me crazy. But if someone were to find us—"

"Tzuyu," you start, and the sound of her name on your voice, coming out low and austere, always brings her to heel. Quickly. "No one’s going to find out. So tell me. What do you want me to do to you? Right now."

Her cheeks burn brighter with that beautiful rosy shade of pink, a flush heat that travels across the bridge of her nose—eyes flicking down to where you can’t see them, suddenly bashful like she wasn’t the one who jumped you in the bathroom, gotten you hard and ready—like she wasn’t the one who woke you up with her thighs sandwiching your cock and silently demanding you fuck her right there.

"I’m just saying—"

"Tzuyu," you say again, and this time she all but shudders. Starts to quietly whine as your fingers get closer to where they can have her absolutely creaming and whimpering and coming undone; teasing at elastic, tracing the wide form of her hips; only closer without ever arriving. "Tell me what you want."

You watch the usual suspects: the swell of her lip twisted between her teeth, eyelids lidding and dusky irises glinting with thoughts of you. It’s all there, and it’s not going anywhere anytime soon. The Want. The need.

Tzuyu’s mouth falls open in a whiny moan as you realize there’s not a lot keeping you from simply shoving her across the hallway, turning the tables and getting your weight on top of her. She bites back a needy sound as you pin her in place. Normally, the proud smirk on your face would be enough to make Tzuyu groan and roll her eyes, but it’s hard to muster up the resolve required to send you a piercing glare when her current expression is as far from intimidating as it could ever be.

"Tzuyu," you say a third time, after a long pause, breathing slowly and keeping your voice even. You don’t need her knowing that seeing her like this gets your heartbeat going rabbit-fast. Don’t need her knowing how bad you want to turn her around in your hands and fuck her senseless.

"What are you doing?" Tzuyu asks, and the muscles in her body are coiling so tight they’re practically screaming. "I’m not a little girl. Stop teasing me."

You’ve got your free hand running a thumb down Tzuyu’s chest, along her stomach and sliding it across the smooth pale skin that stretches over her ribs, until in one quick delivery, you’re pulling her soft cotton panties down around her thighs. When your pointer finger makes contact with where she’s hot and fidgeting between her legs, Tzuyu’s throat clicks with a swallow.

"Just tell me what you really want," you repeat, gliding your finger across the surface of her cunt’s aching lips, "or I’ll stop." It’s possible you’d never be able to help yourself, you have to tease, playfully nudge her. The real fun is when you could get her to start cussing and swearing and begging—that’s how you knew you’re giving it to her good, that toe-curling, mind-blowing sex that everyone dreams of, when that delicately maintained veneer started to show cracks and rough edges. "Let me make this easier. Do you want me to hold you down?"

It’s not a surprise that you’re hitting the nail on the head. She’s yours. You know Tzuyu, and her eyes go wide. She nods, because it’s what she’s only ever wanted—filled her nighttime fantasies and daydreams for months before she’d ever truly seen it, truly felt you over her and fucking her with your tongue, your fingers, your cock. She’ll later swear up and down that you’re the one always dragging things to the bedroom, getting her so worked up she can’t help but ride out her own frustration. The way she sees it, you’re the one who’s corrupted her. Not that it’s even half the truth.

"Do you want me to get you wet?" You ask, even lower now, like a growl at her throat, and Tzuyu lets out a delightful sound at the mere mention of it.

She spreads her legs wider as you continue to finger her, wriggles her hips desperately on your hand to find some sort of friction that might set her loose, but you bring a grip down hard onto her waist, pressing her firmly into the wall to keep her from shifting.

"I want—" Her words become cut off and unintelligible when your fingers find purchase inside her, find her immediately soaked and dripping around you. She gets that adorably needy tone in her voice the moment your thumb comes to rest on her clit, prodding at the bud just light enough to make her shiver. "Please."

It seems to take a special kind of awful to look down at Tzuyu’s desperate expression and find it nothing other than charming and adorable, but much to her impatient displeasure, you’re that exact kind of awful.

"Speak up," you say, even though rationally, everything is clear to you—the fact that you can get Tzuyu begging for it a whole separate matter. "Wanna hear your lovely voice, Tzuyu."

She sighs. It’s anxious. It’s needy. It’s a perfect honesty: "want to feel you in me."

"Want me to fuck you," you amend, kissing her once, hot and hard, and when you pull yourself off her mouth, you make sure she’s listening. "Want me to cum in you."

She nods. Swallows. Rolls her lips between her teeth.

"Want it." Tzuyu’s chest heaves to shoot out a hot, pointed breath, and she preens the misplaced hair off her cheek and back behind her ear before returning to a moment more composed. "Want you now."

"Oh, I think we all have all the time in the world, darling," you breathe into the hollow of her throat, and the two of you don’t stop kissing this time, your lips always on each others, the smiles growing at the corners of your mouths giving way to something more heated and intense. More urgent.

Tzuyu’s arousal is like a living thing, fighting for control, getting her furious and blotchy and burning up to the roots of her hair. When you draw your fingers out of her throbbing cunt, she doesn’t even stop to think; takes them between her lips and starts sucking. She doesn’t decide to do it, you figure, it just happens, as if she’s meant to. She’s perfect for everyone, and then she’s flawless for you.

"Gonna make you cum now," you growl against her cheek, and she coos the moment you sink to your knees. Starts slipping her hands through your hair in anticipation. Gets your face between her legs where you’ve got wet kisses trailing down her inner thighs. It’s so close to where she needs you, has her rocking and circling her hips in the hope she might reach your mouth, the pleasure she might only realize at the end of your tongue.

And finally, you slide your mouth upward. Tongue flattened, lips hot and loose, you let her find it.

"Fuck!"

Between her legs, you grin, pull back enough to murmur, "there’s my girl." And with that you’re hooking a hand behind her thighs and diving back in.

Tzuyu’s eyes are all docile gleams and innocent glimmers, watching from above as you push her legs open wider for you—sharp draws of air as you eat her pussy with delicate and calculated approach: the tip of your tongue against her clit is just the right amount of hot and wet and firm to get her dizzy, voice flooding full of lust and want. She yearns for nothing more than the way you pull at her swollen lips, masking her cunt with these hot, hungry kisses that cover your chin in her slick, fill your mouth and your thoughts with her.

"Oh, my god," she says behind the knuckle worrying her teeth, crying out in such obvious satisfaction that it has you nearly laughing—so smug and self-satisfied that you push your face into her hot pussy harder to hide the expression. Like flicking a switch, you’re tapping, teasing, torturing that button that makes her feel all of that pure concentrated relief. Makes her feel like you’re pulling her apart and tearing her to pieces—makes her desperate and choke back moans, ones that cry for more.

"God," Tzuyu curses, and your name on her lips becomes a wish, a prayer, begging, "fuck, what are you doing, that’s so—that’s so good, you’re so good, please, please don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop."

Even if you consider keeping her on that precipice, nudging her closer and closer until she physically can’t take anymore, Tzuyu’s cunt is so warm and sweet, and even her cum tastes incredible, all strange and familiar at once—gets you bearing down to kiss deeper, harder. You know the basic principle of what you’re seeing: that Tzuyu’s body is reacting, that you’re reducing her to instinct, bringing her to the edge and fucking her earnest.

"C’mon princess, you can cum for me, I want you to cum," you rasp, and the pet name—one that you’re sure would in any other context make her wince—gets her heating up even more. When you lower your mouth again, you swirl your tongue around her clit and then suck.

"Yeah," she says, nodding, "Yeah, yeah." The word becoming all she can manage between hot, shuddering breaths that you can feel coil in her distinctly tight stomach, only releasing in the violent jerks of her hips, each spasm more uncontrolled, less predictable than the last.

It’s a concerted effort: the wet touch of your mouth, the two fingers—three now—that you have fucking her dripping cunt get her needy cries echoing through your apartment and her throat hoarse. The pressure must be just perfect because Tzuyu flies right over the edge into everything. She’s all broken moans and stutters and hiccups—all you find between her thighs is hot and wet and pulsing and quivering and perfect. The beginning of the end, and she’s pleading, begging for release.

"You’re going to make me—" she pants, twice, holding tight to your shoulders, nails sharpening like claws into your skin, and her legs aching into quakes and tremors around you.

That’s your Tzuyu.

"Cumming—I’m cumming," she cries out, almost silently, and then it’s your name and curses all sputtered out across these keening moans that almost see her young, tight body collapse and spill all over you. "I can’t—You’re making me cum."

"Good girl," you murmur, your mouth still dragging across her stomach, and it’s the praise that all but kills her, gets her breath arriving in fits and starts, wrestling against you for control, but it’s far, far too much. Far too gone in her own orgasm to realize she’s fucking soaking you in her slick. Of course, you’re kneeling there, just grinning like the devil himself, pushing your fingers in and out of her slowly to ensure that Tzuyu’s fucked right through the apex of her high; curling against the way she throbs; feeling the way she quivers.

She’s the girl whose name is on everyone’s lips, and she’s practically drenching you—oh, what a heartthrob, you think, and then immediately remind her: "you’re so fucking pretty Tzuyu. Love when you cum for me."

Her fingers thread through yours, and she finally lets her lips twist out that million dollar smile, laughing all abashed and flushed and red in the face until finally giving you that look: an expression that lets you know she has only one thing on her mind, and that she wants for nothing more than to get filled by your cock, mend the empty feeling knotting in her stomach, the utterly foundational need.

And after kissing you, melting into you and getting her own taste off your lips, she brings her mouth against your ear, breath still hot and haggard, tells you, "get on the bed, baby."

And but so, you arrive at a familiar crossroads, those four corners of your bed. You’re sprawled with your head at the base and feet at the pillows because that’s simply how you two managed to tumble, Tzuyu controlling the fall. When she peels the sweatshirt from up and over her lithe frame, your cock jumps, twitching in her hands, because the image is nothing less than perfection. The fact that a girl could have a face like hers, and a body like that is some sort of error, a cosmic mix up—one to which finds you the sole beneficiary.

"Maybe I should tease you," she says, licking her palm and getting both hands around you, pumping you languidly to full attention. "Look how bad you want it."

"You’re in charge, princess." you say, laughing out loud.

Tzuyu rolls her eyes. Gets her elbows on either side of your face so you’re looking at nothing other than just her. There’s a story here, and sure, it’s novel and unique. Right up until the point it isn’t; there’s never been a different ending beyond your cock buried deep inside her until she’s panting and whimpering.

"Is that right?" she asks, leaning in so close you can feel her warm breath tickle your neck.

"I mean, I might be lying; decide to get you underneath me if you go too slow."

"I’ll keep that in mind." Tzuyu chuckles, her laugh echoing against your chest as her lips curve up into a toothy grin. If that isn’t a look perfected. She grabs you by the jaw and kisses you, so thoroughly that you really haven’t the shadow of a doubt in your mind that she will be every bit the challenge you could ever hope for—and when she pulls away, her tongue licks across your lower lip, before gently biting down and whispering, "I’m gonna ride you now, baby."

The look on her face is careful, more determined, as she lines herself up against your body, straddles your hips and rubs the head of your cock through her heat, kissing it to where you’d made her soaked and wanting; there’s a deep breath between you, and then Tzuyu slides closer in your lap. Sinks down.

And then you feel her—all of her—as she takes the full length of your cock into her hot, tight cunt. Neither of you even move. Simply sit there and look on all teary eyed and so wracked in pleasure to the point your mouths just hang, frozen, because apparently she was discovering the answer to every question in the universe, and all of them were you.

"Move your hips for me, Tzuyu," you say, and you’re guiding her, urging her, making haphazard grips out of the beautiful curve beneath her tiny waist, a makeshift reign where her hips flare and that ass smacks down hard against your thighs. "There you go; fuck yourself on my cock."

Actually it’s more like she slams down. It’s a lofty goal of hers, to get you so fucked and bothered and reduced to smithereens. That, or get you so close to the edge, get you so needy for your own release that you’ll simply throw her off you and pin her to the mattress and fuck her like she really wants.

"It’s so fucking good," Tzuyu gasps, raising her hips. The sound that comes out of you is indescribable when she lowers them again. That’s the reaction she’s looking for, that you—ever indomitable you—are shuddering under her hips, that every time she drags her pussy along your length, gets you aching inside her tight, hot cunt, she has you absolutely struggling, hanging on by a thread.

"Tzuyu," you choke, and you’re gathering all these smirks and haughty looks; she throws her head back because apparently that vice-like grip she has around you, a glove to your cock, all velvety smooth and addictive is just as good for her as it is for you. "I just love how this pretty little body looks when it’s bouncing up and down on my cock."

"Oh my god," she curses, moaning at how good you feel inside her, voice finding a familiar tremble as each bounce on your cock gets her hot cunt that much more fucked, more soaked, more perfect, and you’re both whimpering mindless. Her body stretches to accommodate you as she squeezes up so tight around you that you’re joining her groans with a lazy smirk. She nods, slapping her hips roughly against you, fucking you with all the energy she can muster, and she rasps, smiling in silent laughter, "ugh, I can feel you filling me so deep. Love fucking you like this. Could do this all day."

The sounds coming out of you—fucked out of you each time her thighs land flat against yours, each swivel of her hips in a rhythm that doesn’t falter even once—are driving Tzuyu up the wall. Every last moan and sigh only spurs her to ride harder and harder until she realizes she’s better off lifting herself onto her feet, crouching over and using every muscle of her toned legs to fuck your aching shaft. With her beautiful form above you, tight young body glistening with sweat and whimpering at the bottom of every rut, you hold tight to her waist, carelessly marking bruises under your fingertips, grasping hard as you’re fraught with the utterly perfect, tight, wet cunt wrapping your cock.

"It’s good," Tzuyu gasps, on repeat, and her cheeks begin to flush again, fill so unbelievably pink. "It’s so fucking good, baby."

On the basic, thrust by thrust level, it’s kind of her trademark—what you’ve come to expect from her. She’s all toned muscle and coiled lust around you, merciless, truly fucking you, taking you up and down while her curves ripple in place: small, perfect tits shaking each time she crashes onto you, and her ass against you waist feeling incredible.

It’s fast and heavy and hot and you’re nearing everything dangerous, nerves on fire and holding your breath right up until the moment Tzuyu cums all over your cock. She slows to a near crawl, hips still circling against you, and then, overcome by the sensitivity of another orgasm, freezes. This time, it comes with no warning, just the writhing and wracked look of a girl who can’t believe how good your cock feels deep in her pussy, making her feel so full and complete.

"Tzuyu, you’re gorgeous," you reaffirm, reaching a hand against her chest, sinking your fingers hard into her perfectly sculpted breasts. You know how this goes, the fact that she never knows how to ask for what she wants, that when she’s like this, she needs you to take control. There’s always such sweet fun to be had in grappling her hands behind her back, get her ready to be fucked and used like she craves. Shift your hips downwards and prime yourself at the perfect angle, and get her cumming over and over until she’s a hot, fucked mess. "You look so good cumming for me. I’m going to fuck you through it sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. I always do."

"Mnppph." Tzuyu moans into your neck, as you start to glide upward into her hot, fucked hole. She’s so massively drenched that the sound of it, you thrusting fast into her cunt, is absolutely filthy. If the sheets were in bad condition from your romp before, they’re approaching new levels of fucked, completely beyond repair.

Tzuyu grins. She loves this. She loves whittling down your arrogance and repurposing it into an unabashed lust, the kind of raw emotion that will hammer at her cunt until she’s mewling, keening, and simply falling apart. Until she’s recovered enough from losing herself on your cock, and she’s whispering in your ear, "want your cum, want to feel you fucking burst."

You consider it. All with Tzuyu’s lips on your throat, kissing your face and punching out tiny breaths every time your cock buries into her, it’s a pretty real possibility. It was taking some amount of self-control to hold back before with Tzuyu’s pussy being the hottest, tightest, wettest you’ve ever known—only growing more unbearably immaculate with every inch you bore into her—and here you are, fucking her with such strong, hard strokes that slide so easily from base to tip of your cock that you’re approaching it all. Dangerously fast.

Yours, Tzuyu croons in your ear, crying out in heavy desperation with a voice so crushed and gravelly it’s near irreconcilable—she’s so wracked that the only thing she can do is beg for you to unload in her cunt. "I’m yours. Want you to cum in me so bad, fucking own this pussy baby, fill me and make me yours."

"Tzuyu, you—" Holy shit. You’ve got it all twisted, explosion imminent. Nerves and muscles acting together and without your permission. "—feel so fucking good."

"I know," she says, thumb rubbing at your cheek while she barely holds herself above you—eyelashes fluttering each time you bottom your cock out in her cunt. "You can cum. Go ahead. Cum for me, baby."

Your teeth grit, and you take a final gasp of air between your teeth, "Tzuyu, fuck."

You’ve got your hands clamping down on her ass, pulling her into the end of each thrust, and as you bury yourself deep into her cunt again, you cum.

"Amazing," Tzuyu breathes against you, ignoring the groans and sighs still billowing out of your lips. "You’re perfect." She clenches down on you, tightening around you to wring you dry with each shallow thrust you make to fuck your cum deeper into her. It’s hot and wet and fucking unbelievable.

It takes all your remaining energy—those last waning vestiges—to shift Tzuyu’s body aside you. Your cock falls out of her well-fucked pussy and onto the sheets before you feel her ass snuggle again into the crook of her hips, as good a way to start as it is a way to finish, and the exhaustion of your own orgasm has your breath short and unsteady.

"Hate to say it," Tzuyu says, wiggling her ass against you, which is truly a dangerous game, regardless of your condition, "but I’m really hoping you’d go get more coffee."

#kpop smut #male reader #twice smut #twice tzuyu smut #tzuyu smut #male reader smut

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holymusicalmothman · 7 months

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Eat at Baratie! - OPLA!Sanji x Fem!Reader

Might do a part two, there might be more of this that comes to mind!

Inspo is from @madmadamemimble who said : "Sanji recognizes reader as a former patron of the baratie a few years back. Why does he remember them? They dined and dashed. On his watch. Zeff. Was. Furious. He still begrudges them for the lengthy month of chore duty he got stuck with as a result. But how could he ever stay mad at someone so beautiful, kind and charming."

Warnings: none? mentions of a dine and dash in the past. Don't do that to your waiters guys :)

Word Count: 1k

Main Masterlist

You felt yourself tense when your little brother led you all through the fog and towards the Baratie. Normally you didn’t return to places that you had left on a rather…unhappy note. But you also knew that you didn’t stand a chance against Luffy’s appetite.

But maybe the waiter from before wasn’t working there anymore? And the Head Chef and Owner, who you knew to be Red Leg Zeff, had never seen your face. So you knew there was a slight chance you’d make it through this. After all, you didn’t even have a reservation.

You weren’t proud of your prior actions, but back then the simple dine and dash had just been a moment in the wind. You definitely hadn’t planned on returning.

And you definitely weren’t telling your brother.

Growing up two years Luffy’s elder, you made it your own personal mission to look out for him. Especially after Shanks had left. You had taken his departure personally, the pirate genuinely being your father. Luffy had never quite told you how that moment had affected him, it was the one of the few things he had never opened up to you about. But you had seen how much he treasured his hat. He called you his sister though. And you called him your brother.

You and Nami stood more towards the back of the group as Luffy and Usopp attempted to get a table.

“You’re tense.” She pointed out.

Being the only two girls aboard the Going Merry, you liked to think you and Nami were friends.

You lowered your voice. “Don’t tell my brother, but I might have dined and dashed here a few years back.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You?”

You nodded. “Took a few months a few years back to see what I could. I felt restless back home, and Luffy wasn’t quite ready to head for the Grand Line. I wound up here, hungry and broke. I feel bad for the waiter, if I’m honest. He was…charming, and easy on the eyes.”

Nami smirked, a quick laugh passing through her nose. “Well then, maybe he’s still working here.” She walked over to the host and pulled some Berry from her pouch. “Excuse those two, they’re idiots.”

“Nami!” You were floored. Had she not been listening when you said you had dined and dashed?

“Relax, you said it yourself, it’s been years.”

You groaned as you followed the group to the table, seating yourself between Nami and Zoro, trying to vanish into the booth.

“Are you okay?” Luffy asked, not quite sure what to make of your antics but concerned none the less.

You kicked Nami in the shin under the table as she opened her mouth.

“I’m fine. Just tired.” You told your brother, reluctantly sitting up.

There was a shout a ways away, toward the entrance to the kitchens. You couldn’t quite tell what was happening from your angle, but you recognized the accented voice that followed.

“No cause for alarm folks, return to your meals.”

Your gaze fused itself to the tablecloth.

A basket of bread was set on the table.

“Hi, welcome to our shitty restraunt where the only thing worse than the ambiance is our food. My name is Sanji, what can I get for you?”

You frowned, looking up.

It was the same man from the last time you were here, but the charm was…missing. Odd.

Luffy had dug into the bread with joy. “One of everything please!”

Sanji glanced at your brother. “Anything to drink? Perhaps one of our signature cocktails to help you choke down your meal?”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“Wow. Giving us the hard sell.” Nani’s voice was sarcastic and rather deadpan.

It was like a switch had been flipped. Sanjis eyes flickered from Nami to you and seemed to linger.

“Apologies, madames, I didn’t see you there. Would you care for an aperitif to start? We have several rare Micqueot vintages in stock. Or perhaps a glass of Umeshu? You know, something sweet for someone sweet.”

The wink that followed was obviously directed at you and you felt your cheeks warm despite the situation. You returned your gaze to the table.

“Something wrong with your eye?” Nami questioned.

Sanji merely smiled. “Just blinded by beauty.”

You heard Nami order the both of you plain waters and the receding footsteps of your waiter.

As soon as he was out of earshot, the boys started giggling at the obvious flip to his personality. You rolled your eyes and nudged Zoro to let you out of the booth.

“I’mma get some air.” You muttered lamely.

The open air bar was cooler than the dining room, you noticed as you leaned against the railing.

“You caused me quite the bit of trouble the last time you were here. I trust you don’t plan on pulling such a stunt again?”

The blond was at your side, resting his forearms on the railing, a lit cigarett dangling from his fingertips.

“I have berry.”

He raised a brow, taking a drag. “And you didn’t before I take it.”

You shook your head. “Not at the time. I’m sorry about that by the way. I didn’t mean to get you into any trouble with Zeff.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” he smiled, grey blue eyes meeting yours. “Just a month’s worth of extra kitchen chores. Honestly, Zeff could have done much worse. I think, that as long as it doesn’t happen again, we’ll be alright.”

“We?”

“I trust you’ll be docked while your ship receives repairs, and I’d love a chance to get to know a lady as charming as yourself.”

You laughed. Something about him was enthralling. You couldn’t tell if it was the charm, the accent, the smile, the way his hair fell in his face, or even just the way he looked. Something about him reeled you in like a fish on a line.

“Maybe a drink after my shift?” He asked, hopefully.

“I’d like that, Sanji.” You said with a smile.

“Ah, and the beautiful lady blesses me with a drink. I should get back to work, I’ll see you later then?”

“Yeah, I should be getting back to my brother.”

“Until later, then.”

You smiled as he walked away, back into the dining room. Maybe coming back to the Baratie was a good idea after all.

#opla sanji x reader #opla sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #opla x reader #thismothwrites

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soapskneebrace · 1 year

Text

gravity

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: General audiences Word Count: 3.9k Warnings: none Author's Notes: LIKE CHILEAN MINERS (iykyk). I want to express a tidal wave of thanks to everyone for waiting so, so patiently for this chapter. Life got hard and is remaining so, but the kindness I have received has been so incredibly comforting. Please enjoy the longest chapter of Neighbors I have written to date. Also a HUGE shoutout to Lev @yeyinde as ALWAYS for her advice, the pub is a direct result of her guidance. MASTERLIST Now on Ao3!

It’s a cold and windy morning that, as you hover just a little closer to his warmth, you ask him about decent places to eat nearby.

“Fancy pub food?” he asks in response, and it takes you a moment to process what he’s said. Today he’s in a thick, soft-looking knit sweater, which makes it infinitely difficult not to imagine huddling up against him.

You think he’d let you. You’re not sure how you know this. Maybe it’s the way he positions himself next to you, standing at an angle toward you just slight enough to be casual, but open enough to be purposeful. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like he’s trying to warm you up with his eyes alone—he asked you once why you always bundled up to be outside, and you told him you were just sensitive to the cold.

Since then, you’ve often caught him checking on you, surreptitiously. Simple once-overs that you think are searching for evidence of discomfort.

What would he do, you wonder, if he found any? Would he send you inside, as he had the first morning?

Part of you thinks that would be better. It would give you an out, open up a path diverting away from whatever this thing is that hangs in the air between you and John Price, this thing that you pass back and forth between the pages of borrowed books.

It’s a thing that breathes with the both of you into the early morning, and you don’t know how to look at it. You don’t understand its shape. It’s a thing you wish you wanted to walk away from.

“Who doesn’t?” you reply, sipping at the cold dregs in your cup.

“How ‘bout tonight, then?” John says, and you swallow a little too quickly.

“W-what about tonight?”

He smiles at you, as if he’s thrown you off on purpose. “Dinner, on me.”

You blink several times. “You—I—I mean—really?”

He shrugs, easy and casual as you wish you could be. “Could show you what’s best on the menu. And I wouldn’t mind having dinner with someone besides m’self.”

You hesitate, because your gut reaction is to say yes, John, I’d like nothing more, and that is not a reaction you want to satisfy. These past several mornings have been nice—nicer than you could have expected. You’ve stopped interrogating yourself as to why you keep bothering, because each time his smile greets you as you step outside is answer enough. The routine has been easy to settle into, even comforting.

You need to protect that comfort, you know, even from the allure of something more.

John does not press for an answer, seeming content to savor the last few inhales of his cigar. You wonder if he’s guessed at your inner conflict, wonder if the quiet he’s giving you is an intentional moment to sort yourself out.

He never presses for anything, ever.

“I suppose I could meet you after work,” you finally say.

The smile that breaks across his face nearly knocks you off your feet. You’re relieved when he says, “Sounds good to me,” because if he’d said it’s a date you think you might have dissolved on the spot.

John texts you the pub’s address, and it’s close enough to walk to. You arrive that evening, in your usual two coats plus a knitted hat, to find that the place exceeds a set of expectations you didn’t know you had. The patio seating is closed in with a white picket fence and hung with strings of fairy lights, and it flanks a red brick building with a large, friendly lantern hanging over the door.

You might have expected something a little grubbier, if you’d given the place any more thought beyond this is John’s pub and he’s having me for dinner here.

Warm air envelops you as you step inside, and your gaze is drawn as if by a magnet to a table further in—John has already seen you, and beckons you over with a wave.

He’s still in the knit sweater, and his fleece jacket is hanging on the back of the seat across from him. He stands as you approach, rounds the table, and pulls that chair out for you when you join him.

You don’t know why the chivalry makes you falter, makes you want to turn and sprint all the way back home. All you know, as you sit down, is that you can practically feel the aura of his presence behind you as he helps push your chair in, can feel it move as he leaves your side to return to his seat. You feel yourself gravitate into it, leaning a little over the table as if trying to keep it close.

“This place is tidy,” you say earnestly, trying for that morning normalcy, as you begin to shuck your layers.

“It’s alright,” he agrees. He’s smiling gently, the cool blue of his eyes vivid in the contrast of warm lamplight.

“Do you—” and then you can’t help but giggle, because it’s such a cliche question “—do you come here often?”

He grins, huffs that little laugh. “Too often,” he says as he sits back in his chair, putting a hand on his stomach. “It’ll start showing soon, probably.”

You look at the flat of his stomach, the broad paw of his hand. Remember the trim waist of that very first morning. “You know, somehow I doubt that.”

He meets you eyes, laughs again, and it warms you to the bone.

Seeing him like this, at night, is an unknown quantity. The John you know how to interact with exists on his front doorstep, painted in the cool palette of sunrise, cold air, cigar smoke. This tableau, composed upon the table between you, might as well turn him into another man entirely. Who is this John, awash in warm light, nearly twelve hours older than the man you spoke to this morning? Who are you, now, seeing him after work and before the end of the night?

You feel a little untethered. Your feet still itch for the door, for the measured, predictable floorboards of your own home.

Maybe John notices, because he takes a menu from the stack of two at the end of the table and offers it to you with a reassuring lift of his brows. “Hungry?”

That question, at least, has an easy answer. You smile a little. “Starving.”

His advice turns out to be necessary—everything looks good, and you both end up ordering too much food. Over a spread of fresh, hot chips, halloumi kebabs, and katsu chicken served liberally with curry sauce, John also has a bottle of scotch brought to the table.

“No, that’s too much!” you protest as the waitress sets the decanter down with two clean glasses. “John, really.”

He sets to pouring, his expression pleased, though you’re not sure what about. “Humor me, love. I don’t get to share very often.”

He hands you a glass, and lifts his own above the food. You acquiesce, and clink the rims.

“Do I take a shot or a sip?” you ask, bringing the glass up to your mouth.

“A sip,” says John, and his expression is genuinely distressed. “Please, don’t ever suggest shooting scotch again. That hurt to hear.”

You smirk, and take a slow drink. It hits your tongue with the prologue to a burn, rolling across your taste buds as the twinge fades and you close your eyes. The flavor opens like smoke exhaled into still air; you purse your lips a little and swirl it in your mouth; nutmeg, vanilla, and even a little apple expand across your palate. When it hits the back of your tongue, a short floral burst surprises you, and you swallow it down eagerly.

You find John watching you when you open your eyes.

“Where did you learn to drink like that?” he asks, and there is a new tone in his voice that you’ve never heard before.

It’s low. Resonant. Almost—purring. The look in his eyes, too, is different, the pale blue sharper somehow. Focused keenly, and with some unknown, honed intent, on you.

It pins you where you sit. John is looking at you. John is seeing you.

“Doesn’t everyone learn to drink at uni?” you reply, trying for airy and light. It doesn’t work. Your voice trembles, just a bit.

He’s still watching you, and you think he sees that. Recognizes, perhaps, a change in your expression, some telltale sign that he has shaken you. He looks away from you, takes a drink of his own scotch, and when his gaze returns the keen edge of it has softened. You breathe, and realize you hadn’t been.

You seek something comfortable, something you can measure and control. “How is Actium treating you, then?”

He smiles, and it’s a little rueful. “Octavian’s being a cunt.”

As talk of the most recent book he’s borrowed carries you into more comfortable territory, the two of you make your way through dinner, which is every bit as delicious as John had promised. The food is hearty, greasy in a way that isn’t too heavy, and pairs perfectly with John’s scotch, which you indulge in liberally.

When the alcohol has outpaced the food that is meant to offset it, you think back to what he’d said earlier, about not often getting to share.

“So am I the first person you’ve brought here?” you ask. “Or do you take every neighbor out to dinner?”

John lifts one dark brow, leans in with a tilt of his head. “Only the pretty ones.”

You give an unladylike snort and swirl a cut of chicken around in curry sauce. “You’re incorrigible, John, really.”

The smile he gives crinkles the laugh lines around his eyes, and you feel yourself want to melt at the sight. It is unfair how handsome he is, in that warm sweater, in that golden light, haloed softly in the haze of your verging intoxication.

“When will you believe me when I compliment you, hmm?” he asks, low and resonant in the depths of his chest.

You shoot the rest of your scotch in answer, stuff the chicken into your mouth, and proffer the empty glass.

John squints at your heresy, but obediently pours.

“I suppose your line of work isn’t really great for your social life, then,” you comment. “Always coming and going.”

“My calendar’s certainly empty,” John agrees. “Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve sat down with someone like this. I suppose I’m out of practice.”

“You’re eating with a fork and knife and not your hands.” You grin. “I’d say that’s pretty good already.”

He smiles back. “Would that chase you off?”

You sip your scotch. “Not if you keep pouring.”

“And she complained when the bottle came out. What about you, then?”

“What ‘bout me?”

“How many blokes have you been to dinner with, lately?”

You scoff at that and wash your food down with a sip. “None. As if they’re throwin’ ‘emselves at me.”

John’s expression changes, and it’s slow grin that spreads across his face, a smile you have never seen on him before. It isn’t the sad smile he’s given you at times, melancholy and resigned; nor is it the one he gives when he sees you in the morning, warm and soft and friendly.

No, this one is—energized. Invigorated. As if someone has given him good news he hadn’t been expecting.

“They’ve got to be,” he says, and his tone is humorous. “You must have your pick of the lot. And none of them have struck your fancy?”

You press your hands to your too-warm face. “John, don’t tease me.”

“Seems I’ve got to count myself lucky tonight, then,” he continues, leaning his elbows on the table. “If you’re as choosy as all that.”

You give him a droll look, and swirl your drink around in your glass. “If you must know, I got out of a relationship not long ago.”

John’s brows lift, and you want to smack yourself for letting that little detail escape you. “Is that so?”

You drink. “That is so.”

“What kind of idiot would let you get away?”

“My head is already spinning, and you’re abusing that,” you protest.

“Sorry, love,” he says, clearly not sorry. “But now you’ve got me curious.”

You sit back in your chair, staring at your plate to avoid his gaze. “I’m afraid it’s not all that dramatic. It just…didn’t feel right. I guess he liked me more than I liked him. We would go out, and I would think, ‘I want to leave him and go home.’”

And you still felt guilty about it. You hadn’t liked him that much in the first place, when he’d asked you out—you’d just said yes, because it seemed like the right moment in your life for something like that to happen. When you’d ended it, your extended social network had scratched its collective head, because there truly hadn’t been any good reason.

You just weren’t happy.

“Suppose I didn’t give it enough of a chance,” you say, downing the last of your glass.

“Hey,” John says, soft and gentle. You look up to meet his eyes—the expression on his face is a mixture of sympathy and resolution. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure, John.”

“Love.” His brow creases, insistent. “You deserve something you want.”

You press your lips together tightly, and suddenly you’re struck again with that sensation from earlier, that feeling that John’s presence is a tangible aura, something that rolls and settles across your awareness like a physical touch. You realize you’ve been leaning into it again, drawn toward him like a comet into the snag of a planet’s gravity.

“I’m definitely drunk now,” you say, because the only other words that want to come out are an emphatic I want you.

John smiles. He doesn’t press the issue. “Will I be carrying you home, then?”

“Oh, John, really!” You give a scoff, surprised at the sudden humor. “You couldn’t carry me all that way.”

One dark brow lifts.

“No,” you say. “You’ll have to put me down. I’m not light.”

The smile remains.

You hold his gaze, suspicious, and finish the last of your glass. It does not take long to polish off the last of dinner, and when the two of you agree that the last chips have finally gotten too cold to eat, John pushes his seat back and stands.

“Done, then? I’ll settle the tab. Love, put that away.”

You sheepishly lower your half-lifted wallet back into your purse.

Accounts settled, you make it outside the pub, and then you have to lean against a wall as John watches you, amused. The world is swaying, its pendulum arcing near-horizontal at the amplitude of each swing.

“I just need a minute,” you whisper.

John does the worst thing he could possibly do—he gives you his back and kneels down, arms a little open. “Come on.”

“Come on? Come off it, John, really, you’ll drop me!” you exclaim.

He looks over his shoulder at you. “I won’t.”

You don’t know what convinces you to do it. Tomorrow, you’ll blame the many glasses of expensive scotch, but in the moment you know it’s the way the hanging lights limn his silhouette in gold. You know it’s the soft expression on his face that you are already too fond of. You know it’s the quiet confidence in his reassurance, and above all those things it’s the familiar comfort of his kind blue eyes.

“All right, John,” you say.

As you wrap your arms around his shoulders, John scoops your knees up into the bend of his arms, and you can add now the feeling of his strength to your mental registry of his body. He is broad against you, the width of him obliging your thighs to part farther than they have in a long, long time.

It brings a heat to your face that dwarfs the low simmer of your inebriation. When he lifts you, straightens up and hoists you a little on his back, like you weigh almost nothing, you are unable now to shove back and contain what he has inspired since that first morning.

“This feels nice,” you murmur, tucking your chin on his shoulder. The scotch has the reins of your tongue now. There is no stopping the words that come out. “I wondered if it would. This morning.”

John’s reply is low, humming in his throat as he begins the trek home. “This morning?”

You breathe. “You always look warm and soft. You’re so handsome every morning. Even the first. I wanted to touch you back then. I wanted you to hold me.”

He doesn’t say anything. Maybe he’s trying to focus on the walk back and not dropping you in the middle of it. He hoists you a little, cupping his hands beneath your knees, squeezing.

His silence prompts more of your honesty. “I don’t want to go to dinner with anyone else, John. Even if someone did ask. You’re the only one.”

“You’re drunk, love,” John says. You don’t recognize the tone of his voice, why it sounds…pleading.

Your face is very close to his, your chin pillowed in the fleece lining of his collar. You resolve fully to blame what you do next on the scotch, and touch the tips of your fingers to the coarse umber on his cheek.

His thumbs press into the divots beneath your kneecaps. John says your name, low and breathy. It must be the strain of carrying you that shows in his voice.

You lean in. You press your cheek against the bristles of his beard, inhale, take in the ever-present Maduro that saturates his skin. The friction is a million little pinpricks of sensation, and you think in that moment that if his beard doesn’t leave hot, welted scratches on your face, you might fall asleep crying.

“Oh,” you murmur, not recognizing the languorous, almost wanton sound of your own voice. “Feels good, John.”

“That’s,” he huffs, and audibly swallows. “That’s good. We’re—ah—we’re almost there.”

“Okay,” you say, sighing against him, settling fully into the expanse of his back.

You doze, unburdened now by what you’ve admitted. He does not waver once on the walk, makes no complaint of your weight as street lights pass and the night moves slowly by. He is as steady, when he makes it to your front door, as he was when he first picked you up.

“Where’s your key, love?” he asks.

“Oh,” you murmur blearily, “um. Let me down.”

Even after your feet are back on the ground, his steadying hand does not leave you, ballasting your elbow as you dig around in your purse. It seems like an embarrassingly long time before you find your keychain, and when you try to unlock your door you miss the slot twice.

John’s big hand wraps around yours then, engulfing it with long fingers and broad palm, and guides the key steadily into the lock. The slide of the deadbolt is loud in the quiet night. You have to lean against the door, suddenly devoid of the strength to turn the knob as you look up at John’s concerned face.

“Let me help you in, love,” he says, brow creased. “Please. I’m worried you’ll fall and hit your head.”

Your entire body feels like it’s sinking into a glass of champagne, his words caressing you like rising bubbles, little pearls of air tickling your face as they touch you. You openly stare at him, watch his throat work as he swallows again, rest your eyes along the broad tendon that flexes as he tilts his head.

“Sure,” you whisper, too out of breath to speak aloud. “If that’s what you want.”

So John turns the knob, loops your arm around his shoulders, and walks you inside.

It is very hard to focus now, as John sits you down on your couch. There isn’t much you can hold in your mind besides the moment his hands leave you, and you inexplicably want to cry at their loss. You don’t see where he goes, vision going dark and blurry around the edges—you think he might have left until he comes back with one of your glasses, filled with clear, cool water.

He kneels in front of you and proffers it, doesn’t let go of the glass until both your hands are wrapped around it. He watches you as you take a sip.

“Drink all of that, alright?” he says. “You had a lot.”

You hold the glass back out to him. “You did too.”

His brows lift, lips parting. Have you surprised him? He pulls the glass closer with a little tug, puts his lips to the rim and tilts it from the bottom as you hold it. His eyes do not leave yours as he drinks, as he takes only a little, and then he pulls away and gently pushes the glass back toward you. Your gaze falls from his eyes, down to the little droplets of water clinging to his mustache, down again to the steady line of his mouth.

You bring the glass back up and take a deep gulp.

“Good girl,” he says, low and rumbling, and heat floods your body.

You realize then that his other hand is on your knee, the weight of his palm heavy and broad, his thumb rubbing a comforting circle into the edge of the cap. You are washed in the blend of his warm comfort and the sudden, almost violent sear of your own desire.

When the glass is empty, he eases it from your hands and sets it aside on your coffee table. When he turns back to you, your hand comes up, unbidden, to curve itself along the angle of his jaw. Umber bristles are coarse beneath the sweep of your thumb.

“Not soft, is it?” John murmurs, and there is something stormy and intense in his gaze.

You take a deep breath. “Maybe I’m okay with that.”

His hand grips your knee suddenly, vicelike, and you know this is pushing too far. He does not lean in to you, makes no move toward you, but his entire body is a bank of energy that he is holding, holding, holding back. His chest rises and falls rapidly. His eyes pin you to the couch as he works the muscles in his jaw.

“You’re drunk, love,” he says. It is not the pleading assertion he’d given earlier. It is a conclusion—fond, but resigned.

The room has begun to gently spin, with John at its axis. “I’m drunk,” you agree, whispering and fragile.

It breaks whatever has been building since you’d left the pub. John draws back. Nods. Gives you a smile—that smile. The one that had taken hold of you the first time you saw it. Trying, with every scrap of willpower it had, to be happy, to be alright with what little it had. Failing to do so.

Unable to hide how much it wanted.

“You got a spare key?” he asks. “I can lock you in.”

“Key hook,” you say.

His hand drags down from your knee to stroke along your shin, and then he’s rocking back on his heels, standing to his full height. He looks at you for a moment longer.

“Get some sleep,” he says.

When you blink, he’s gone, and the deadbolt is sliding home.

Bonus A/N: Some housekeeping. First, if you see your username on this list and it's struck through, it means you did not come up when I tried to @ you. I will try one more time, but if it doesn't work I'm taking your name off the list. Get right with the tumblr gods if you can. Second, a few people have told me that they did not get the tag notification on the last update, so let me know if that's the case for you and I will see about trying a different format. And third, I've been editing the format for neighbors across all chapters, so sorry in advance if you get notified twice. Tumblr knows even less about coding a website than I do.

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