#OF COURSE THERE'S ONLY ONE RIGHT ANSWER I JUST NEEDED AN EXCUSE TO MAKE THIS POLL JFIEOWJIOG
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Needy
Pairing: Joel Miller x reader
Summary: Joel needs his fix of you, and he doesn't care if it makes you late.
Warnings: smut| oral sex (f receiving) and coming untouched. Joel is a little more sub in this one and he's obsessed with eating you out.
a/n: guys, i have a confession to make, i do not know what this is, i wrote it tonight and boy i'm so tired that i'm honestly not really sure about what i typed, but i was in the mood and i like this thing of Joel tuesdays im doing so... hope you'll enjoy.
"you look gorgeous, baby"
It didn't take a genius.
The way he wrapped his arms around you, pressing his body to yours, the way he whispered in your ear, the way he didn't break eye contact, looking at you from the mirror as he kissed your neck...
Joel Miller might have been a hard man to understand many times, but not when it was about sex.
"Joel" you stopped him immediately, neglecting the shimmers of pleasure he had ignited inside of you from such a small gesture "We don't have time"
If he heard you, he didn't show it.
His kisses only grew hotter and lower down your neck.
"Baby I'm serious" you breathed, feeling one of his hands travel down your sides "We're gonna be late"
Even with a bad ear, he should have definitely heard that, but his only response was a low groan and an attempt to hike up your dress.
"Baby-"
"just a peek" he murmured, sending a shiver up your spine "Just wanna look at her"
Even if your natural response was to roll your eyes, hearing him so desperate was doing things to you.
"please" he breathed "I'll be quick"
And after a moment of silence, as you considered what he'd just said, you finally huffed out a "fine"
It's just one peek after all, what could go wrong?
He had turned you around and was on his knees before you had time to blink, and your dress was pulled up to your belly before you could take a breath.
You watched him as he held your waist like you were a long-lost treasure he'd just found, and as his eyes trained on your clothed core with so much hunger and lust to turn them completely black.
And then slowly, oh so slowly, his right hand came to help, removing that torturous piece of fabric obstructing his view of (as he referred to it) "the most perfect pussy on the planet"
"fuck" he groaned, his pupils dilatating so much they were one with his iris.
You let out a small chuckle at his amazement
"There, you saw it, can we go no-" you tried to speak, but were quickly interrupted
"just a kiss"
He didn't even sound like himself, but like he was in a trance.
"just one" he breathed, leaning closer
You sighed, before agreeing
"one"
And he didn't even answer you, he just went straight to it, groaning loudly as he kissed you right on your clit.
"Joel..." your hand found his hair, as a shock of pleasure coursed through you.
"just another one" he murmured, not giving you time to protest before his lips were on your core again, this time forcing a whimper out of your mouth.
"baby-"
But another groan of his interrupted your train of thought
"fuck you taste so fucking good" his eyes glanced up at you "I could eat you for every meal"
"Joel we're gonna be la-"
"let me taste you a little better" he growled, "just a bit, ok?"
But again, before you had time to give him a half-hearted excuse, he'd dived in, taking your pussy in his mouth like it was his lifelong duty.
His tongue was now swirling over your bud, your hole, and along your slit, making you forget all about your plans and the people waiting for you at the restaurant.
"shit baby" you moaned "f-fuck"
His hold on your waist got tighter, and soon, you realized his definition of "a bit" was much different from yours, as he didn't look like he had any intention of stopping, and to be honest, you were more than happy about it.
His nose was rubbing against your mound, you could feel his mustache tickling your skin and the way his tongue was tasting and savoring all of you was making you ascend to another universe, one where you didn't fall for Joel Miller's stupid tricks every time for example.
"J-Joel"
And usually, he was very talkative during sex, for being such a man of a few words he really loved to talk when he was inside of you, but not when his mouth was busy, never, when his mouth was busy.
Eating your pussy for him was like a drug, I’m not kidding, you'd never met any other man who loved giving head like Joel did, most mornings than not you'd wake with him between your legs and go to sleep the same way, and when he didn't get his fix... well, you ended up arriving late at the restaurant.
"oh my god" you moaned, gripping his locks with more strength as his lips closed on your clit, sucking it deliciously "Joel fuck I-"
And that's the other thing, not only was Joel obsessed with going down on you, he was also amazing at it. Sometimes you didn't even last a full minute.
"f-fuck baby I-"
And with one final stroke of his tongue, you were pushed over the edge and left wailing and crying as the orgasm took over your body.
He drank every single drop of your pleasure, not stopping to lick your pussy until you literally pulled him away by his head because you couldn't do it anymore.
"fuck" you exhaled, as your breathing tried to get back to normal.
He fixed your dress for you as he stood back up
"you're perfect" he murmured, a smile from ear to ear plastered on his face before he kissed you, letting you have a taste of yourself "fucking perfect"
You chuckled as you wrapped your arms behind his neck and kissed him again"We don't have time for me to take care of you too baby"
His lips pulled into a more shy smile now "yeah, that's not really necessary anyway"
You frowned, looking at him, before you let your eyes fall to his crotch.
A dark stain covered the front of his jeans.
"oh my god" you huffed out a laugh "go change"
"right away m'am" he nodded, giving you another quick kiss
"and wash your mouth a little bit"
And at that, he smirked
"not a chance, sweetheart"
Your head tilted as you rolled your eyes at him.
"You, Joel Miller" you cocked an eyebrow as you looked into his hazel eyes"are a gross, gross perv"
A lazy smile pulled at his lips
"Only for you darlin'"
#and thank you so much for all the support on the final jump I love you guys#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fluff#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#fluff#joel miller imagine#joel miller blurb#joel miller angst#fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo
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PART & PARCEL
male reader x sana && tzuyu
18k words
“Is it too late?” Sana asks, and here’s how it always starts with her.
Nevermind that it’s not a question in search of an answer. A normal person could, should, text you. Hey, what’s up? or something equally inconspicuous before turning up the dial, are you busy? can I, like, come over?
Instead, she’s at your doorstep again, twirling a bundle of honey-blonde between her fingertips as if she doesn't know what all that does to people. Some people say, incorrectly, that these are the hours of the night shared with ghosts. And to that you say: No, these hours belong to Sana, clearly, and apparently nobody fucking else.
Now in a way, you do get it. It’d be easier to turn back over in your bed and ignore the elegant simplicity of a text message, or one step beyond that, do the unthinkable and finally tell her no, but when she’s standing there - there with that face, like a thousand different excuses or a million little reasons why she needs something from you, right now - and all she has to do is push her lips together, eyebrows going high -
It is a bit like magic, after all, this feeling when she comes around.
Everything that happened before - her visits, the first one and then the next - no matter how impossible, gets washed away, and suddenly all you have is her. Her voice, her hair, and a sneaking suspicion that the time apart really isn’t such a bad thing, because you don't always have a guess as to what comes next.
Of course, you were always going to let her in.
“I saw the lights were on,” she adds, starting to shrug off her coat like she knows you will.
“I mean, I’m here,” you say, non-committal.
“Yeah. I can see that.”
The door's half open and the only substantial hesitation you have is when you peer over her shoulder. There’s another girl, propping herself up against the doorframe, with a pretty head of glossy, sable hair falling gracefully down her shoulders, and she looks at least a few years younger than Sana. You smile cautiously at her before giving Sana another, much longer glance. In response, you receive a wink that's as subtle as a brick through a glass window (which only raises more questions). You ask the one that seems most important.
What else would Sana, of all people, possibly want to bring you if not some plaything or another. You've seen it all: girls who liked her money, girls who liked her body, girls who just flat-out liked girls, whatever. The dynamic always seemed to be, as long as everyone is having a good time, nothing to get hung up about - because at the end of the night, everyone comes around to Sana again.
And she comes around to you.
Why question it.
“This is a little… irregular,” you say with a nod of your chin, as you step back from the door. "Who's the plus one?"
Sana motions the girl in with a sweep of her hand and throws you another disarmingly flirtatious smile - the same one that'd first left you utterly hooked by this strange person, who had, when you first met, walked into your life for five minutes, then fucked your lights out the way she wanted. She goes further with this, of course, teasing a warm smile and slanting an eyebrow.
"I figured I'd bring you a gift," she coos, in this sultry, dusky sing-song of a voice that really needs no followup whatsoever, other than maybe take my clothes off right now, as she makes a show of how she's pushing her shoulders back, like there's an audience to be impressed with the curve of her bust. "Since we were celebrating."
"Uh-huh. What's the occasion?"
"Whatever the hell you'd like," Sana chirps.
With that, she takes you by the collar. And even though the girl she brought is in the middle of, like, peering around curiously in your foyer, Sana leans up on the balls of her feet and kisses you hard. It's a real kiss - no preamble - which is sort of funny, given you would have been more than okay with some. So, naturally, you're caught entirely off-guard. It takes a full ten, fifteen seconds of feeling her hot little mouth pressed insistently up against yours, your mind gone blank with the suddenness of the moment. Your body taking it for granted.
Meanwhile, the other girl blinks - long, dark lashes batting the curve of her cheekbones slowly until Sana has moved to stand in front of her with the full, earnest intention to cup her jaw, tilt her head down a smidge, and kiss her too (very thoroughly, also, in her own way).
Sana lets the girl go with a sharp draw of air and a peck. Then she looks at you, just this side of playful. The way her teeth flash over her bottom lip suggests how she's enjoying, to her bones, this state of affairs: a dalliance with control, with desire, where she can flaunt it.
She tells you to relax, unwind, which you suppose is code for taking another of Sana's friends and bending her over every horizontal surface in your flat and fucking someone the way you've wanted for the last however-long it's been since Sana dropped back into your life. You've done as much. Some rotating cast of characters: Mina, Chaeyoung, Nayeon, the raven haired girl with the perfect tits; some names and faces starting to run together the more Sana pops up at your place with a girl under one arm, usually looking half bored and half shy - or at least putting up some pretense that might justify Sana telling them to strip down while she's already eyeing you with this look like she's wondering which article of clothing you'll be ripping off her first.
"Does she have a name?" you ask, with a nod vaguely in her direction. Of course it's a loaded question. What's her name doesn't matter. You don't know most of their names.
But when you do a double-take, remembering to steal a good look, you're not sure you've ever seen anyone pull off that perfect little white dress quite the way she does - the kind that goes right up the back, tucked under the neck, sleeves coming to a neat point across her fingers. Sana may or may not have a thing for pretty girls in cute dresses, but this is, without question, the most obvious bribe you've ever witnessed in your life.
Sana's still smirking - so much for being considerate, you think for a second, until you’ve got a dainty hand stretched into yours like you’re brushing up with royalty. And well, maybe you’re getting a better look now that she isn’t bathed in the calm, assured wickedness that two A.M. might only ever know - the dark curling like wind around her fingers and down the lines of her spine, cajoling.
She is gorgeous.
And she says -
“Chou Tzuyu,” in this charming little voice that’s even more mesmerizing than you anticipated, this taut thread winding itself up between the two of you. She says her name with a gentle sigh, a light in her eyes that you know, intimately, not to trust, but you get the sense that she'd rather you make an exception for her - or at least for the night. “Everyone calls me Tzuyu.”
You feel a squeeze at your fingers, an anxious reminder from Sana's thumb, as if she feels the reverie in which you've lapsed. It draws you back, just slightly so.
"Tzuyu," you say, taking mental note of the faint smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth when you do. "How much do you know?"
She twists in Sana's direction, and oh, look how eager and innocent and coquettish Tzuyu's making herself in front of her, smiling. What do I say, the gesture is asking. You can see her effort to hold back a giggle or two as she bites her lip, trying, as all the pretty girls who come through these doors often try, to come up with something cute and modest and small that'll allow you and Sana to picture exactly the right thing. You can tell when a person is not used to having an audience.
"I know Sana..." Tzuyu's voice trails as she gives Sana a furtive glance. "She talks about you a lot. And I figured, you know."
"What? That we were good friends?"
"Sure," Tzuyu laughs to herself lightly again. "Whatever makes it easier."
Sana has her fingers threaded beneath Tzuyu’s chin, studying her like she’s an artifact that belongs behind glass. Expensive. One of a kind. And oh-so-excessively fragile.
The way Sana touches her, she may be trying to prove the point, guiding her body's angles and edges towards whatever form she sees fit, with just fingertips and the slightest tug, showing you exactly how malleable the girl can be. The look on Tzuyu's face is hardly discomfited when her dress slides past the dips of her shoulders or the slope of her waist, when the fabric gets crumpled in Sana's hand like the most expensive balled-up tissues in the universe. You can't decide what animal comes to mind: perhaps a deer, some cute, unknowingly doomed elk.
"No underwear," you note, watching.
Sana draws herself a little closer to Tzuyu with an appreciative gaze, lips gently landing at her shoulders, neck.
"Why bother?" Tzuyu muses. "What were we going to use them for?"
A pull here, a tug there, and the dress puddles around Tzuyu's feet, silk shimmering like the inky dark of a starless sky. And just shy of a pedestal and perhaps a fucking moonbeam, she's the spitting image of perfection: porcelain skin stretching out over a masterwork of curves and bone and muscle. A sculpture, a study in the form that so frequently leaves people just absolutely dumbstruck and thirsty in their wake.
Sana trails her hand around the width of her hip - drawing your eye along the skin of her leg, up and around the perfectly curved thigh - stopping to splay her fingers just so at the base of her spine, as if in demonstration of ownership. Like this: mine.
"Don't get it confused," Sana tells you. "The whole naive innocence thing is a total fucking misdirection."
"Tzuyu," you say again, this time noticing the way it feels in your mouth, syllables sweet and sticking to its roof like honey - maybe something more of an excuse to move forward and touch her yourself, palm her face, brush your thumb over her bottom lip. A taste, something subtle but intense, spreads to the back of your throat, the moment her teeth graze gently over its pad. "Is that true?"
"Are you asking me what kind of girl I am?"
"I didn't put it exactly like that."
"Just answer, sweetheart," Sana says, brow quirked in a faux-display of nonchalance, fingers still pressed, spreading gently at her neck. She's enjoying this a little too much. Though, you're enjoying this too. It doesn't have to be an either-or kind of scenario.
"It's better if you say it," she adds after a second of consideration, and even though it's obvious by now she's only prodding and that this is a foregone conclusion, Tzuyu puts an emphatic twitch in her lips - red, wet, a vision in crimson - like the thought is deeply troubling and will likely require lots and lots of thorough explanation later.
"Fine, okay, in that case," Tzuyu starts with a weary sigh, and then with a blink-and-you've-missed-it flash of a smirk, there's no way anyone's buying any of this, "I’ll say: I'm whatever kind of girl you want me to be."
Sana was right, and she didn’t even need to go so far as to say it. It’s clear - you want her.
But it's half as easy to pinpoint where it all starts: there's the way Tzuyu melts, sinking just that much further when you guide your hands around the curve of her ribs, fingers following the flow of her soft edges, the slopes and valleys of her breasts, and she parts her lips even before yours touch the seam of her mouth, her breath warm, heavy, the kind of anticipation that sends jolts down her neck, her spine, the body electric - a real live wire.
Or, it's because of the way she likes it - like, really likes it. There's something exceptional in a girl who will wrap her legs around your waist and suck your tongue and whimper just by a feather's touch around her hips or between her thighs, where it's damp and hot and holy shit, this is unreal in a very tactile, visceral way. There's no mistaking the noise for anything but genuine pleasure when Tzuyu's trying, unsuccessfully, to bite down the whine sneaking up her throat and into your mouth - where you're kissing her, still - the kind that presses heavy at the bottom of your stomach.
Or, there's Sana yet, pulling her clothes off, and instead of leaving a trail in her wake, folds each piece neatly until she's bared down to this fine little number of lace and cream-colored silk that'd make your head spin if you weren't, y'know, pretty busy, mouth occupied by Tzuyu's pliant moans, both of your tongues colliding.
"God," Tzuyu groans out quietly as you pin her to the wall, and again after another string of kisses, sucking your lip.
There are fleeting moments that slip through like sunlight that have you thinking: Right, this was a good idea, nothing other than a sweet girl like this all messed up and squirming with the shallow dig of your nails. But only close to perfect.
Sana will explain it.
"Mm. Not god." Sana is grinning when she leans up for the same kiss, but she takes her time with it: mouth slotted tight against Tzuyu's as her long fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of Tzuyu's neck, working her grip up slowly so that the strain gets more noticeable until the girl is a gasp on a choke of breath. The curve of her back is drawn out by that same hand and her ribs pressed, pert and rosy, into the cool air.
"Sir, and please," Sana then instructs, voice just harsh enough for Tzuyu to understand.
You might imagine she's also drawing in with her nails, teeth, a full-body drag up her exposed front, like some kind of prize, marking and tasting and fucking every inch. There's a whimper, desperate sound of, yes, right, fuck, please, and sir slipping like a sigh off the edge of Tzuyu's tongue.
"Or better yet," Sana adds, with another searing press into the junction of her collarbone, "say daddy, please," then follows through on the plea with another slow-pull.
You try not to roll your eyes. It's Sana's kink, not yours. It's a whole thing. And with Sana, like most things, you find it best when you simply play along.
More than that, you indulge her. You both do.
"Okay, daddy." Tzuyu's teeth catch the corner of her mouth in a self-amused bite. Twisting and twisting the swell of her lip further until it snaps forward. "I want you to tell me something," she says, which, for the way this typically goes, is a little more self-assured and pressing than the usual fare. Even Mina, who was perhaps less than enthusiastic about the - uh - title in question, came around eventually when she had Sana's fingers, your cock, all sunk so deep inside her she forgot what any fucking words were anyway.
So maybe Sana does know what she's doing with this one. Maybe you oughta thank her.
Tzuyu just lifts her chin, says, "this isn't what I expected when I showed up here."
"Obviously, it's not," Sana says.
"What I mean is, this is all good fun, of course," Tzuyu explains. A charming indignance that slips past, like the fingers down her belly. She swallows hard, muscles clenching as your palm runs slow over a hip, squeezing. "Though I guessed when we left Sana's, I would've been bouncing on his cock five minutes ago."
Sana's lithe little frame ends up closer - nearly naked in lace and wholly difficult to miss. She's a half head shorter than the girl in front of you, but with a tilt of her chin and a beckon of her hand, it's a powerful look about the lines of her face: eyes slightly hooded, mouth curved and devastating. It's as if, at every hour of the night, the simplest glance will have the fabric of someone's clothing coming undone, regardless.
Tzuyu is just slowly trading looks between the two of you. So curious. "So what then, do I have to do," her words curl like smoke up her throat, "to get fucked by both of you, hm? In, like, the next five or ten more minutes, preferably."
"He's not going to fuck your brains out simply because you ask." Which by the way, is the first real lie Sana tells tonight.
Tzuyu is unimpressed, or maybe she's a stoic. "Clearly," she deadpans.
Whatever the expression is that is fluttering those gorgeous lashes, eyebrows pulled down, adds a faint mark of distrust across her brow. The prettiest scoffs you've ever heard. "Isn't the point to get me spread out on your sheets so you can use me like a little fucktoy?"
A sigh from Sana: heavy, calculated. She does not reply in any obvious way to that, no flimsy assurances that it would be whatever the hell Tzuyu likes (though you think maybe Sana might want to take this whole fucking opportunity, all this thinly veiled begging for it, for the first taste of what will probably be the main thing that'll hold her over the edge of an orgasm or two).
So, instinctually, Tzuyu pushes it, just enough - she tilts her head, and the motion is followed by a wide sashay of her hips as she gently presses a fingertip to your chest, encouraging a step back to better your balance, like the pull between you has a little more gravity.
"Don't go quiet on me." Another sultry note pulls from her mouth when she guides you another foot - or however many, until the foyer opens up into your living room. The chair, the sofa, a table, you watch her eyes wander like she's mapping the territory. And then finally she drops her hands from your shoulders, reaching instead for Sana, taking her waist in her palms.
Holding her. Kissing her.
There's a delicateness about both of them, clearly, and not only how Tzuyu angles their lips, as if she doesn't fully intend for the two to merge but instead taste the line, test the edges, or something; but Sana doesn't fight this. In fact, when Sana's being drawn gently, but confidently into a deeper, harder press, a very eager give, her eyes slip closed. There's a war, and Sana - though she'd be the last to admit it - is losing.
Tzuyu, at the end of a particularly sharp draw of air, simply turns to you, eyes peeking over the tousle of copper hair atop Sana’s head, and asks: "How does daddy want to play with his toys?"
It clicks in your head immediately: she's a natural, could be an actress, maybe a pro - you have no idea where Sana found her - even if that doesn't exactly match with the diction; daddy, and sir, and the baby-girl pout. There are the things she does to Sana, this slipstream of control passed back and forth and back and forth again - a fevered tugging, the give of one or the other. An entirely different dance. Beautiful, fluid, intense.
Eventually, it lands in your lap. Literally and metaphorically. Tzuyu looks up from where she's kneeling between your legs and with a little pinch of your hips, tells you with that intoxicately sweet, melodic voice of hers, that you seem like the sort who wants someone who just takes initiative.
And she's right.
"May I?" she asks, breathlessly, fingers at the zip.
"Of course,” Sana answers for you, settling into her side like you both belong to her. Like she’s about to enjoy this just as much as you are.
What does the room sound like, the darkness giving away? Everything. The hum of the appliances, the purr of the heat, something in the walls is settling into its final position for the night as the floorboards sigh. Breathing. Listening.
What you don't hear:
Chou Tzuyu moving - whether she shifts onto her knees, or adjusts how her slender fingers fall from the waist of your pants, doesn't matter - no crunch, no shuffle. She doesn't swipe away the hair from her eyes or drag the pad of a thumb over her swollen, bottom lip. All she does is pull, just a bit, and the zipper breaks the silence, comes apart down the way.
Sana clears her throat gently, hoping, possibly, that Tzuyu might be the kind of girl who just loses herself to the moment, caught in the headlights. The way every delicate, doe-eyed girl is supposed to do. Sana likes them a little helpless like that - makes her feel big.
It's too bad really, because Tzuyu doesn’t appear like she's awash with anything in particular. Or at the very least, she's done a fairly convincing imitation of not being the slightest bit off-put, completely disarmed or whatever Sana had been looking to see.
She does look up though. Long, pretty face still managing a bit of devastation from this angle. Those full lips slightly pouted and slick in red: such an inviting color against her pale skin.
"Sana," she coos, eyes wide and brilliant - innocent, yet taunting all at once - and she's deliberate in what she says next, flitting her tongue across her canines to punctuate every sound: "Isn’t daddy going to use me now?"
"Oh." Sana leans in, eyes flicking up at you, Tzuyu's hands, her body, and starts slowly, like she's exacting a punishment, "Tzuyu, baby," her own anticipation beaming off the surface of her thousand-kilowatt grin, "you're going to take that perfect cock," the words dripping off Sana's tongue, heavy, sweet, "you're going to take it, get your pretty little lips all over it sweetie, you're going to show him just how good you can use that filthy fucking hole of a mouth for him. You're going to take him until he cums in your throat, and then you're going to beg him for more. And if you can do that, well. Then we’ll fuck you exactly how you wanted."
Tzuyu blinks - doting and innocent like the angel everyone probably thinks she is.
But then what you've learned about the angels that Sana brings you: they're devils in disguise, well familiar with the sin and lust that resides in these places; sunk into the cushions of the couch, pressed against the cold pane glass of a window, wound tight in the springs of a mattress. You had long thought - and think, you do, particularly when doing the unthinkable - it's easier that way, to leave aside thoughts of right and wrong and ask: Just how far can an angel fall?
"Ah. Perfect," Tzuyu says, sounding like an answer, and her eyes widen as she peels past that band of elastic.
Your cock springs forward and bumps into the pad of her finger, which traces the length of it like it's hers to own, to pleasure.
"God," she hums with satisfaction, and even without looking up, or even before you say a damn word, she draws her tongue up along the underside in one swift, wet lick. "Sana you weren’t exaggerating: daddy's cock is fucking gorgeous."
There is that tiny whine, or more precisely a tiny, oh fuck when Tzuyu curls her hand around your shaft. Sana gives her a push. "Say it, Tzuyu," she all but growls at her.
"Daddy," she says, always pausing on the word. Testing it further. "Please."
"Please," Sana mimics in faux-sweetness, repeating it again once you start to nod.
Not that it changes much - the stare that Tzuyu fixes you is charmingly determined, like a challenge. Then, she inhales.
Deep.
That slide into her mouth is smoother than anything, hot and slippery and oh, right - you remember faintly with a shudder: those pretty teeth hidden away behind a perfectly lascivious mouth, so much that a couple sharp, expert brushes are enough to send lightning dancing along your spine. Sana moves her hands across your hips, to the buttons on your night shirt, working her way up until the fabric has fallen to the side and she can open your chest up to the air, let Tzuyu swallow the rest.
This, Tzuyu likes. "Ah," she gasps around you, or she tries to, your cock propped up on her soft little tongue.
She likes the way that feels. The way you fit in her hands, her mouth. And it shows. Her posture curls deliciously, under the satisfaction of her lips wrapping finally having something to wrap around tight, tight, tighter - under Sana's roaming touches, the skirting of her nails down Tzuyu's chest, reaching with slow deliberation across her stomach until there's a whisper of skin across sensitive flesh.
“She’s so fucking wet,” Sana tells you, smiling at Tzuyu from above and fitting a fingernail between her teeth. "Good fucking girl, aren't you Tzuyu?"
The moan that leaks out around the weight of your cock is pure. Pure lust, pure pleasure. Pure perfection. Her tongue flattens beneath you and finds you surging even deeper, a firmer slide of Tzuyu's wet lips that brings you right into the roof of her mouth - as she twists her face around you, a soft scrape against the inside of her cheek.
You sigh.
And Sana sighs back.
"Of course. Always such a hidden talent," she notes, as Tzuyu's perfect mouth moves and plucks and teases your nerves, twirling her tongue around your tip. Again as she swallows you down, slow, savoring.
“Tell me,” you say, because the heat of Tzuyu’s mouth is starting to remind you of a daydream, “how exactly do you know each other?”
"Work," Sana answers, flatly.
"Like-"
"Yup."
"She sings?"
"She does - rather, she will." Sana glances sidelong with a bit of a grin. "You have no idea what that tongue can do to people when it's got some good backing tracks, when it knows a goddamn fucking thing about rhythm. Speaking of," Sana looks down at where Tzuyu has her silky brown head of hair bobbing between your legs.
And then it's clear what she means, Tzuyu humming and rolling your shaft through the flat of her tongue. It's all slick, soaking heat and the tension building and building in your balls, aching, just absolutely desperate for more friction, to be taken and used and stuffed in her throat - or just more of this.
"Here," Sana's fingers are hooked in your pants, helping them off your legs, your ankles, pulling you further to the edge of the sofa. Let me, she's telling Tzuyu, this slight murmur of want she just can't wait on.
"Wait, I'm -" Tzuyu attempts, pulling her lips off the curve of your cock, to where pre-cum is weeping out of its tip, and she kisses it so very tenderly, going back for round two. Round three. She floats her fingers up over her eyebrows, into her fringe, all to tuck some dark, wispy hair gently behind her ear when she starts to hollow her cheeks and again suck your cock in earnest.
Until -
"Tzuyu," Sana reprimands her, "don't play, daddy's got his work cut out for him tonight. So be a good girl, and let me show you what he likes."
It takes a second, maybe three. It might take longer if Sana didn't have her fingernails digging into her thighs, sliding further to grab hold of Tzuyu by the hair and pull her lips off your shaft. There's a thin trail of spit coming off her mouth and stringing across you. Sana closes her fist in the back of Tzuyu’s hair and doesn't so much as blink while studying the look on her face: lips glistening, just absolutely needy, like she can't help the whimper in her throat.
"Hm?" Sana cocks her head to the side.
"But... sir."
"You are his toy," Sana explains, flashing her eyebrows because apparently it needs to be said, "not the other way around."
And it may be the first time you've seen it happen since Sana walked in with Tzuyu and declared her intentions: the fluster, the pink spread across Tzuyu's features like some scarlet-lettered stain. Defenses dropped like a draw-bridge. She's not quite every bit as cool and composed as she wants the two of you to think she is. (They never are.)
But the fact that Tzuyu's coy little smile returns into her lips - how she's wiping the spit off her mouth with the sharp edge of her hand and pointing your cock in Sana's direction with a delicate, arched brow, how she then moves on, untangling herself from Sana's grasp, eyes heavy, but on her - is a marvel in and of itself.
It’s an amusing surprise, a welcome one, for the simple reason that Tzuyu keeps showing both of you that she can have anything she wants exactly like this: wrapped around a slender fingertip, flushed and helpless, and without breaking a sweat.
"Have you considered daddy wants both our mouths on his cock and maybe a few less words?" Tzuyu scoffs. And even though Sana does scoff right back in retort, that's exactly how it plays out.
(And you may, upon occasion, reflect: you're a real lucky bastard.)
Sana always puts on this act. One that you’ve learned to see right through.
Like she isn't too eager to follow the momentum, that she hadn't just been just as impatient to touch you - to be on her knees with Tzuyu, all aside this beautiful girl who gives you a pretty smile when her tongue finds the base of your cock. Who likes being bossed around but can just as easily turn her face towards yours - in what seems almost like a taunt - as if saying: You know what else I like? to be challenged, and sometimes when the mood’s right, pushed and punished.
But Sana doesn't let you see what kind of resolve she has until she's gone another minute, licking, lapping her tongue around your cock - this is her idea, after all. The little white dress in a heap, the adoration and worship that comes with fucking girls she knows are the prettiest things to see ruined.
Listen - even if Sana’s veneer is as blatantly obvious as it is shatterably thin, she’s no less dangerous.
When she first pushes the very head of your cock inside her mouth, and just that - because why rush it, she's so fucking perfect with those pretty lips - the rest of your brain is shouting something to the tune of fuck me sideways because she knows you better than anyone, knows what really gets your blood burning.
A few slow brushes, one kiss, this lick that goes bottom to top and over and around. It’s like she's testing the surface, dragging her lips across your aching cock as she settles on a rhythm, a tempo that starts to mirror the movements of Tzuyu's hand.
Tzuyu lets you see: this slow twist, this slide of skin up and down the length of your shaft, her soft fingers rubbing tight circles up and down the path of her palm until it meets Sana’s mouth. And like it’s the most simple thing in the world, she dips down, finds a place at the base of your cock, where Sana’s lips can’t quite reach, and drops a hot, messy kiss right across the spot.
Fuck.
She kisses you everywhere.
"Sana," you start to say, and she looks up through the strands of blonde fallen slightly in front of her face. Her lips sink further down the length of your cock - until she hears your breath catch in the bottom of your throat. Until she’s pulling you up and out, again, just barely past her teeth.
Fuck.
"Mm." She hums it right into your skin, and her eyes are hooded, dipping right down with another pull of spit, and then another, before her lips are at the tip once more, flicking across the slit with her tongue - wet and rough.
"Sana," you try again, biting into your lip as you reach a hand into the gold locks of hair framing her deceptive, pretty little face, and tug, a warning, a reminder. You need. It's too early for you to be repeating yourself, and Sana knows that.
A pop, the release of her mouth slipping off the top of your cock, and Tzuyu moves - wrapping her lips tight and silken around the sides, the rest. It all happens in an instant. You're being taken with the sudden, harsh suction of one mouth, the other, fluid and slipping back and forth again and again.
Sana's nodding along, impressed, as she watches Tzuyu take you - completely, nose to your hip - and has a glint of pure hunger shining through her eyes when you hiss, when she kisses along the lines of Tzuyu's stretched lips. There's another flick of a tongue, and you can feel Tzuyu moan something muffled and choked, a frantic pulse at the base of your spine - pressure gathering like a fucking flood.
"Just how you like it, hmm?" Sana says, her breath warm on your balls as she seals her own mouth right over the base of your shaft. And you swear there's something about this: the drag and suck of both their lips as your hips stutter forward, the feeling of them pressed together in a perfect line, heads tilted and mouths fucking dripping with saliva and sin - your hands, resting on the backs of their heads as they're returning you these greedy little moans that vibrate off the top of your cock and nearly kill you in the process.
“Tell me,” Sana adds, dragging a hot, hazy kiss over the sensitive skin up your shaft. "How's daddy feeling? Hmm? Feels nice and perfect, doesn't it. Feels like you could just let go and release, a hot, sticky load of cum, right down her fucking throat. I know she’ll swallow every drop."
"Fucking hell, Sana-"
Sana doesn't exactly answer to your begging, only hikes Tzuyu a fraction higher over your body to gain better control of the rhythm, and a better view: the hollowed out cheeks, her watery, half-shut eyes, tears welling in her lashes - because the prettiest girls always come apart in the most perfect ways.
You grip into all that silky brown hair, thumb running gently up and over the soft skin behind her ear as she finds an exacting little movement with her lips that will have your spine twitching uncontrollably as you fuck deeper down the perfect arch of her throat, Sana keeping rhythm, guiding you all the way in - a searing heat, and then a new rush of saliva dripping off Tzuyu's chin and back down into the tangle of tongues, fingers, throats, mouths.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The pair of them. The things they're doing.
"Or maybe," Sana muses, tilting her head on an angle that suggests she's weighing her options, and then, massaging a quick, firm twist into the very base of your cock she finally lets spill: "You could make a mess of that perfect face," Tzuyu's faint whimper hardly slips out unnoticed, "I'd hold her hair for you while you cum all over her - how about that baby, should we make a big mess of your pretty face?"
The whimper grows louder - Tzuyu moans long and low, right up against the tightening tension gathering between your hips, right as your balls pull, that familiar coil about to break - and, god, if there's some part of you committed to holding the moment, waiting and wanting to stay in the vision of these two perfect mouths pressed together, it's a fleeting and useless notion - but, as usual, Sana already knows.
The way they're blowing you in perfect tandem, their mouths locked together, kissing around your shaft as they continue to pleasure you, filthy and open - a little more, the thought percolates, a little longer, to let the pressure swell.
"Sir," Tzuyu says, swallowing her next breath, and that's the first you've heard her sound like that: whining, pleading.
She slaps your cock against her lips, her tongue - it's all so wet with spit and precum and slick that her chin is coated, her fingers. A demonstration of what you should have already known: Sana's girls aren't just straight down the line. They want the messy, roughness that comes with the sin; the split in the seam, the wail, the raw, uncut want.
You watch Tzuyu’s lips curl, this quiet smile pressed against your cock, and after a slow draw of air, they fall open again. Asking, "aren't you going to fuck your toy's slutty little mouth?"
The silence of the night swallows up the sounds of Sana's low chuckle and the responding squelch of her fingers tearing free, her hand trailing after. Here’s three bodies in the otherwise ordinary emptiness of your living room, on the edges of the leather sofa, so completely drenched in anticipation and hunger.
There’s a flash across Sana's rounded cheeks, hot, like she's just this small space shy of smirking, or giving into something, you don't know. Tzuyu, however, you've got a fairly clear view of - how her eyes glaze, pupils going wide and dark, staring up at you as she places the shape of your cock so acutely up the length of her perfect features: chin supporting its base, the cute, button-like tip of her nose teasing the soft underbelly of skin pulled taut - a fucked up preamble to whatever the hell it is going to feel like, once she's ready for more.
"Say please, sweetie," Sana says, fluttering her fingers over Tzuyu's neck. And then to you, as an aside: "If there isn't a better way to break in a toy."
When Tzuyu doesn't immediately reply, Sana leans over her, with a fingertip under her chin, guiding her hot, wet lips to the edge of your cock.
"Ask daddy to fuck his filthy little whore."
"Ah," Tzuyu lets out an awkward exhale. "Daddy?" she pauses to swallow, licking her lips, then, with just the slightest inflection, this tight line, right at the border, somehow managing to hit both notes of I'm going to make you beg for it and is it okay for me to be begging you for more: "Please, daddy. Fuck my face."
But then the way she fucking looks - petulant, needy, like if you don't shove your cock down her throat in seconds it could kill her - that's the realest thing you've seen from her since she shuffled through your front door wearing a dress that belongs in someone's heaving, pent up fantasy and left it in a careless pile in the middle of your foyer, tits bouncing on her way into the living room. And somehow, that's a lot to take in: to think this whole debacle has led up to her, this girl you're probably never gonna see again, pressing the pucker of her perfect, pretty lips to the underside of your cock, and -
"Open," Sana cuts in, "your fucking mouth."
Tzuyu gulps thickly and stretches her jaw, blinking expectantly as her pink, slender tongue sticks out the faintest, most insinuating inch.
You lift your hips with one good thrust, the plushness of her mouth becoming soft and velvet as she opens wider, and wider still, and you're balls deep, hilt hitting her lips as she opens her eyes, taking you down her throat, slick and slow.
"Good girl," Sana grins, watching Tzuyu swallow around you.
You may be buried into her throat but the sound of Sana's encouragement has Tzuyu keening, this wrench in her brow like she wants to focus so fucking badly. Only made worse when Sana bundles a handful of Tzuyu's long, glossy hair into a fist and gets her voice into the shell of her ear.
"I know you love it, Tzuyu, how he's fucking taking you, huh? That's it. Show daddy how good of a toy you can be."
And oh, the reaction - the very clear one, no less. Tzuyu grips onto the cushion of the couch, a full set of fingers curling around Sana's forearm, any part of you - the one closest and she's digging her sharp nails into your skin and whimpering for Sana to keep talking like her life depends on it.
"Let me see if you can be as good as you think you are," Sana murmurs, and you shift forward again, bucking your hips just barely but getting there, and then there's more, fuck - getting closer to a good steady pace. Slow, forceful. Hitting the very back of her throat, the bottom of her lips.
Tzuyu can only respond by taking you impossibly deep.
"Remember what you told me?" Sana's biting her lip, finding as much satisfaction out of the mere display.
"Mnnph," Tzuyu chokes out before slipping off your cock, only long enough to gasp for another breath, "I said, I said - all the things I would let him do to me." Her voice sounds so wrecked. Broken. Desperate. Filthy, the kind that needs to be fucked. "Please, please," she says again.
"Tzuyu." Sana's fist tightens in Tzuyu's hair, and down Tzuyu goes. "You sounded so sure, baby - when you said you'd making him fucking cum so easy, how you'd make him bust over and over with this mouth, so -"
You're getting too close. It's really not your fault, it's the two of them. Every wince on your face a result of Tzuyu's swollen, shiny lips wrapped tightly around your cock, cheeks flush and hollow with every move of her mouth. She keeps doing this little flick of her tongue as her lips slide around you - even while Sana lifts her jaw up, down, up down, fucking her mouth onto your aching cock with a sort of callous disregard for how it's fucking her up - how it's fucking you up.
"-the prettiest girls make the best fucking cumrags, you know. Really - makes your toes curl," Sana finishes, giving one particularly pointed tilt of her head at the sight of how bad your knees are shaking.
And then, out the corner of her mouth, teeth locked over her lip, because you're so caught up in how good it feels fucking your length through the vice of Tzuyu's mouth, sliding across her wet tongue - "she's not lying baby, is she? Fuck, I bet she feels so fucking good on you doesn't she" - her voice hoarse and desperate, a hint of something caught at the back of her throat like she can almost taste what it's like. What it must feel like.
Sana pushes, and even she can probably feel you pulsing at the way Tzuyu chokes when the tip meets the drain of her throat.
It gets... it ends up too much, too fast. Borderline abusive - and not just the speed, or the sheer roughness - Nayeon was here on her knees, like this, in the middle of the night not too long ago, and deepthroating you is far from the unusual or accomplished, at this point. But, fuck if that isn't something you build up to.
The slight curve of Tzuyu's arms, rising as they tremble with the effort, the little tears that slip down her cheeks, and those lovely sounds she makes. It's not at all intentional - and you're so stupidly certain Sana didn't think you'd be this riled so quickly, like there's not an ounce of willpower in the world that could save you at this point.
And while that's not too surprising on its own - Sana knows you well, this is what she agreed to - Tzuyu must have understood (it was part of the plan, in fact) what she was walking into, what she was signing up for. But fuck it: she was still pretty new, an amateur. And an amateur just wouldn't be capable of doing the things she does, and looking the way she looks, not to the same extent as this.
"Can you cum from nothing but the feeling of daddy's dick hitting your throat? I'll have him sit back and relax while we work," Sana tells her.
It'd make two of you.
"Would you like that?" she's asking you, tilting her head when you've gathered yourself long enough. "No touching, just take my orders while we pleasure you. How does that sound, daddy?"
"Sana, easy," you practically growl, biting down on the inside of your cheek because the twitch in Tzuyu's pulse has you coming far too undone, her chest hitching and lungs heaving and face wet with spit and tears and cum as it's spilling down her chin. You're seconds from telling Sana to dial it back when a low, guttural sound, sputtering, leaves Tzuyu's throat.
The grip in Tzuyu's hair goes loose enough that she pulls herself up, swallowing up as much air as she can.
And fuck, look at the damage: that swollen mess of her red, glistening mouth; the dark runs of mascara and drying tracks that make a ruin of her face, her neck; a heart-stopping shine of white drool. She blinks the tears off her lashes in a moment.
Sana’s eyeing her over the same way a surgeon might approach a task with a scalpel and a careful hand, or perhaps a fisherman surveying the quality of a catch - before tossing it to the back of a truck to be hauled back home. Like the kind of sight she gets just a little too much satisfaction at. And it's the eyebrow she shoots up into her mess of toffee-blonde hair that asks, quietly, too much?
Fuck. Maybe.
But Tzuyu's eyes shift toward Sana's, and without even an ounce of hesitation - without anything more than a heavy exhale - she opens her mouth again so you can see her tongue run across her top teeth, incensed in her lust. More, fuck me, have me, use me she's saying, telling with you the slight indignance in her eyes that Sana finds perfectly irresistible.
Then, as if unbothered by how far your cock had been slotted in her throat, she swallows. Says, "is that all, sir?"
And the sound that follows it, that shuddering sigh - breaking, cracking, shattering into the calm quiet of your apartment - Tzuyu takes you like it's more than enough. She's swallowing it all back down again.
“Fuck, Tzuyu, you’re-” you try, only to have her moan loud, so loud, when she drags her tongue down your cock and swallows around the whole thing in a way that has you gasping. Your hands end up wound tightly in her hair, weaving through the smooth waves, knuckles straining when it really sinks in. Just how deep down her throat you go, so perfectly deep, the stretch of her lips holding on the side of a grimace because she needs it that way. She can't have it any other.
"Go on," Sana murmurs into the side of your face, drawing closer so she's got her nails curled down into your thighs, leaning in to place a wet, hot kiss into your cheek. "C'mon baby, she'd told me she'd let you do anything - said she'd swallow everything, like the fucking cockslut she is."
Sana's chin digs against the bone in your shoulder, eyes unwavering on where you disappear over and over inside Tzuyu's throat. And it's not just that - Tzuyu's hair clenched tight in Sana’s one hand, the other curled hard into a fist around the base of your cock, her harsh breaths washing over the bare skin of your neck. It's fucking indecent, how needy she's gotten. How needy she always gets. You can feel her greedy little lips finding your ear and biting just shy of savage enough to break skin, and licking - flicking across the vein beating down in your throat, and then -
"That's right," Sana says with a low growl when you look at her. "Cum."
An impoverished sound rips right through your chest. Spreads through you like wildfire.
And just like that, you're spilling inside her, thrusts growing unsteady and lost in the wet, searing heat of Tzuyu's perfect, wet lips, slapping and sliding into her throat, spilling on her tongue with every surge of pleasure drumming in your blood.
Tzuyu sinks down further. So deep that the brush of the back of her throat feels like a hand on the hilt of a knife, tearing into the ends of your nerves, where they’ve come alight and been set ablaze.
Sana picks up again whispering into the cuff of your ear. It makes your head feel like it might explode. And you're almost entirely certain that's what will actually happen, when the combined pressure between your ears and that of your cock becoming so desperately spent builds and builds and doesn't stop, as though waiting.
Biding time for some perfect snap.
Only, a tickle at the back of Tzuyu's throat has her choking out. The same uncontrolled way your hips start to falter - shaky, jerky motions instead of any precision or rhythm - and you're tilting and winding your head in circles, jaw tensed, squeezing her scalp and oh, oh fuck. Tzuyu's mouth slides itself all the way off you in one hurried gasp, then two and three, just barely giving her a chance to steady herself, all while you're still leaking thick, white cum all over the slick swell of her bottom lip, up over the ridges of her elegant features, the curves of her cheeks, the high arches of her brows.
Look - you're cumming all over Tzuyu's face. You’re cumming all over her pretty face and she just takes it.
She's, fuck - she's so, so good. And not just because her mouth is fucking perfection, or her eyes are all at once bleary but wide open, watching you twitch, her own cheeks flushing as she stares up at you - trying desperately to breathe, taking a quick lick off the end of your cock, flitting her tongue between her knuckles, because apparently another taste can't hurt.
"Ugh," Sana hushes, right into your neck, "would you just fucking look, see that - god, Tzuyu, how does it feel, does he taste as good as you hoped he would?"
There's a subtle, unmistakable bob in Tzuyu's throat as she's swallowing everything down, the evidence, and a small flash of her tongue. "Good, mmn-" and you can see how she struggles in her restraint to simply say so, to let her hand drift to the 'V' between her thighs and sate that ache.
But even if her body seems ready for more, Sana's finger finds its way underneath Tzuyu's chin to prompt, with one, simple command, "let's get you cleaned up before we give you what you came for. Go on, get our little girl up to the shower, won't you daddy?"
-
It's a minor miracle the three of you make it upstairs and down the hall without so much as a trip or stumble, the girls with their fingers woven together and hips swaying as you all stagger up. It's a minor miracle you don't pin either of them against drywall or up against a doorway or do any of the number of filthy things on the mind of a man just fucked, still coming down, with two gorgeous, perfect faces - two perfectly sculpted asses - all in arms' reach.
The bath mat is still bunched at the back of your bathroom door. Still damp from the last shower - Sana's last morning here - which you have to pry apart just a little so the two of them can file in.
And well - it does happen. Eventually.
At the sink.
Just inside the en suite of your bedroom.
With Sana, being the way she is.
While the faucet in the shower starts up a shallow stream of water - tap running warm, steaming the length of the mirror and condensing the glass that Sana will soon have Tzuyu's face up against if she has any say in the matter.
"Tzu," Sana says, carding a hand through her hair and bringing a damp washcloth up to the bend of her jaw. There's a slow trace of fingertips across the lines of her neck. "Keep your eyes right on his while I clean you up, ok?"
And then there's the mirror in the center. The three of you arranged - a sort of hierarchy - with Sana stepping forward and adjusting her stance in order to survey, and clean the mess she's made. (What you've made.)
In profile, you can't exactly make out a distinct detail about Tzuyu's face in the reflective surface, only the silvery blur that is the curve of her neck, and the silhouette of the small frame that her long, slim legs form against the cabinet. But the idea's always the same - she's being used like a perfect canvas. Like an empty, ready-to-use doll that you can twist and turn in the ways you want until all your control breaks and you're just fucking into her, or having her lick and suck all over Sana's gorgeous fucking tits while she's bouncing in your lap.
Whichever happens to come first.
"You missed a spot," Tzuyu tells Sana, as though she hadn't missed several - her head tilts in your direction, eyes wide still, endless in depth. Her mouth gives away what's already burning its way through her blood. "Maybe another pair of hands will help?"
"Mine are a little rough around the edges," you explain, coming in close. The bathroom is this tight, congested space, but at the right angle there's plenty of room, even if your hips knock slightly into Sana's body. Tzuyu's delicate body already has her back flush against the sink basin. "You want to feel them?"
She shakes her head, and even though the hunger on her tongue hasn't been satisfied, even after having a good fill, there's something else she'd rather have now.
"I think," she starts, her words cut off by a hitch of breath when Sana's lips travel to the very tips of her hair and work their way up to the soft skin behind her ear. "Rough is good, when... when I'm being," Tzuyu's closing her eyes - partly so that she doesn't fall off the edge so easily, partly to lean into the sensations of two warm bodies, all attention placed solely on her.
"When you're being worked over?" Sana offers.
"Ngh," she responds - with an attempt, as best as she can, at a smile. And then there's one, light, teasing stroke across her jaw, her mouth. Sana's thumb pressed gently into the crease. "When the fucking gets..." and you'll have to fill the gap - finishing her thought with your hands slotting themselves onto the gentle arch of her hips, pressing a kiss that doesn't even come close to satisfaction on the supple dip of collarbone.
She lets out this pretty sound at the feel of your lips, Sana's, all ghosting down her throat.
"Hard and deep?" you say. Sana smirks at this - continues the effort, "A little fucking nasty, huh, sweetheart?"
"Mhm." Tzuyu is, above all else, a little helpless. “Because - you know me so well.”
But make no mistake: Tzuyu is exactly where she wants to be. With the heat radiating off her bare body, she leans into it all, only flinching when your teeth catch her nipple - when Sana's tongue laps a rough circle over the other. The scene, the feelings, all of it orchestrated precisely - these are the things she likes, maybe loves even.
And after the soft sounds slip through her lips, a moan and another hum, she finds her words and voice, "hard and deep and, rough and, ff-"
"And?"
The quick brush of your tongue flickers across the hard tip. The sensation draws from Tzuyu this very faint cry and the exhale of a word: "Fast."
"Naughty little thing," Sana presses into her jaw, pulling back to regard you both. To lift a finger, wet the pad with her tongue - and reach down, down, down until her fingertips brush the very line of her thigh, into the slick between her legs. "I love it when girls get all messy."
"Please," is all Tzuyu has to say, barely anything but, as Sana's finger drags slowly inside her folds.
"Patience baby," she murmurs into Tzuyu's open mouth. The exchange is swift but thorough; you watch, all tongue and spit, and your fingers twitch with a sense of loss. "Why don't you remind me how this went last time?"
"Mm, listen here," Tzuyu says in an astute breath, the sound of it like tables turning. There's a firm pull on your wrist - the grip on it guiding you, encouraging you, just where she wants them, into the band of lace around Sana's impossibly narrow waist. You feel Sana sigh in relief, shiver at the touch of a warm palm up against her thighs, and into a pulse-wet cunt, as though the slightest touch will kill her. "I think you might be remembering wrong, Sana."
"And why might that be?"
"Weren't you the one begging me? When I had two fingers up your cunt in your apartment," Tzuyu presses forward, voice lilt and darkening like ink, and Sana whines and crumbles in her palms, knees buckling when there's one sudden and rough slide of fingers right on the base of her spine.
"Yeah?" Sana asks with a rising blush, already knowing the answer - it's her fatal flaw: she's all sharp edges and pointed teeth, right up to the point there's a finger at her own throat, a cock in her hands and a girl working at her clit until she's drooling. "Are you suggesting I'm easy? Is that where you're heading with this?"
Tzuyu's leaned up against the counter, turning Sana's slender frame around in her hands, until she has her fingers up on the over the wire of Sana's bra, palms hot beneath the thin cups, feeling for her nipples, and the change in dynamic is as palpable as the steam rising in the room.
"Let’s not put words in my mouth," she responds simply, dropping another kiss into the back of Sana’s hair. There's another one laid along the sweep of her neck, like a careful bite, and with a lift of a brow, a look that tells you what you've always known, "but if you’re asking, then sure, the sluttiest of all sluts. Easy," she pulls the cups down Sana’s chest, "as fuck."
It gets to her, clearly, as if that moan falling out of Sana's parted lips could mean anything else.
"Daddy?" Tzuyu asks, because apparently she's enjoying the bit, easing into all parts of the character. She can't seem to contain her grin.
"What is it, sweetheart?" you ask, dipping your finger down into Sana's cunt, and fuck - the girl is so, so slick for it. She needs to be taken and torn, that much is clear. Her whimpers don't get softer as your hips drive into her stomach, pinning her between the two of you.
"Is she always this much of a bratty tease? Or is that just how she gets when she gets all worked up over your perfect cock. I know she's aching to feel it stretch out that tight little cunt of hers-
"It's never been all that clear," you answer, before Tzuyu can start to say anything further. A moment of composure, in case Sana wants you to step in.
Except that, she doesn't exactly interrupt the play you and Tzuyu are setting up: "So," Tzuyu remarks instead. "Just for me then."
"It's possible."
The room suddenly feels very full, very small.
"Right. Okay. Well then," you say - watching carefully, when Tzuyu gives you an appraising glance. Sana squirms again beneath the pressure of all these fingers printing over her sensitive skin - she'd love to fuck this. Or be fucked.
"That means you'll have to take good care of your needy little princess, won't you daddy?"
It's surprisingly fitting.
-
Though it hasn’t been that long, all things considered.
Not since Sana effortlessly waltzed her way into your life. And slightly less-than-that, the time it took her thereafter to find herself bouncing in your lap and tugging at your hair while you struggled for breath between her tits. This perfect storm, caught somewhere between laughing and choking and definitely, definitely falling.
It's been a year, maybe. If that. But that's plenty to know.
Know every tilt of her mouth, every sly grin. The different moans that shake loose from the curve of her lips.
Know what it means when Sana's palms hit the tiles of the shower wall, fingers splaying as she goes quiet and submissive, letting out the barest noise of frustration as Tzuyu spreads her tongue over the pucker of her ass - know that the knuckle you curl up in her cunt has her that much closer to unraveling in a stream of whimpers, needy fucking pants and a hoarse sound of gratitude.
Ostensibly for getting her so perfectly, perfectly raw.
"Fuck, yes, that," Sana barely manages, between the messy swipe Tzuyu's tongue makes over her hole. Just this thorough lick, drawing tight, swirling circles around her, lapping at the wetness before making a hot and steady pass over the sensitive stretch of skin, drenching it in spit until Sana's scrambling against the hard surface.
She's not close to going quiet: her cheeks look rounder, like she can hardly keep her noises under control as Tzuyu eases a single fingertip inside the tense muscle of her rim and uses the stretch and warmth of the water raining down her spine, to slip in deeper. Sana's sighing as Tzuyu eats her like an act, an invitation.
You push your fingers deep, deeper, slick, pulling, rubbing, coaxing Sana's mouth apart even as your lips press wet into her cheek. She groans louder, needier, with your hand flexing up a three-finger graze over that bundle of nerves. The kind that makes her back fucking arch.
"You," Sana sputters open like a struck match, burning bright in the steam-cloaked shower, "you, you, you," and it’s not really clear who she’s cursing, "going to - you're going to - you're going to make me-"
"Oh no," Tzuyu sings, starting to straighten herself out - until she’s reminding Sana that she’s the smallest of the three of you and in a possible sort of danger.
She reaches an open palm into the stream of water and splashes off the slick running down her mouth, her chin, her neck - gaze anchored to Sana's trembling figure. It's just one, heavy exhale into the hot, hazy air: "You've got it all wrong.”
Sana twists her head around, face still so wildly attractive amidst the look of worry and that flush of pink taking over from the bottom half. The tiny, imperceptible dip in her brows.
But before she can give voice to a complaint, Tzuyu has her spun by a rough grip around her waist, pinning her back to the tile - water beating down the rise of her breasts and the tops of her shoulders.
"If you're going to cum baby, it'll be all over his thick cock, getting your whole cunt so stretched and stuffed full it'll feel like he's cumming up inside your guts."
You and Sana share this wistful groan of a sigh after Tzuyu wraps her long fingers around your cock, aims you true, and brings you close. Closer. Until you can feel Sana's pulse at her cunt, lips wet and slippery and dripping, just a few inches from where the tip of your cockhead nudges the insides of her thighs. Sana's stomach is seizing in a fluttering of heat and -
"Do you like hearing her beg? That's good. Because this girl's gonna do everything she can to make sure you fuck her raw before you even let her come," Tzuyu's voice lowers, a deep register. "How long can you last, Sana?"
Sana gives you this look, all anticipation and pleasure, holding it for longer than is strictly necessary - and then, her pert little mouth falls open, keening, hissing out a shallow, almost painful, "fuck" the moment you bend at the knees and slip inside.
The feeling that washes over you is a beautiful elixir of relief, an indomitable kind of want, tinged with something heavier, and with just the tiniest hint of longing in the sense that this is not enough, nowhere near enough. It never is.
"God, Sana," is all you manage. All you want to.
Sana doesn't wait around any longer before giving you an impatient shimmy of her hips, fucking herself further down the length of your cock, like she wants to choke on it. And the feeling of it, well, she does it well - the tight warmth swallowing you to the base, her cunt squeezing you all at once, slick and smothering. Fuck, it's all in her eyes. How badly she wants to be held down, split apart. How tightly your fist finds itself locked around Sana's long, wet strands of golden hair as Tzuyu closes any semblance of distance - brushing her lips over where she can tease Sana's open and slack mouth, licking down inside, panting.
"Baby, you are so close, I can feel you trembling," Tzuyu teases, running her fingers up Sana's stomach, cupping steady the breast she can fit in her palm. She drops another messy kiss on Sana’s throat and hums: "Go ahead, cum. I'm sure he doesn't mind.”
"You're such a prissy fucking- nnh-" Sana's words skirt right over Tzuyu's fingertips before they're shoved roughly across the swell of her lower lip and into the back of her mouth. If Tzuyu's intent was to prove a point, she's about as successful as can be - Sana can only gag quietly around her digits, working her jaw over them.
"Sana, shh-shh-shh, baby, don’t fight it; just cum around around his cock, don't put yourself in a corner and try to play games - he'll fuck you right, until you scream, I promise, and-"
It hardly ever takes much. That's something you've come to appreciate: Sana can't ever help it. With the way it actually feels, you pressing right up against where the rest of her cinches so impossibly tight. She was practically teetering on the edge, on the very cliff and within reach of falling right off of it the instant you fit the very hilt of your cock up the molten-hot stretch of her perfect cunt, sliding, fucking into her while water sprays all over her quivering body, so soft beneath the wash of rain.
One of Sana’s long legs gets wrapped around your waist and you can feel her nails start to dig through the muscles in your shoulders.
Tzuyu smirks right into Sana's temple, biting at the slickness of her skin, running the curve of her thumb around the length of Sana's jugular, and sucking with her teeth when Sana cries out. "How does our girl feel wrapped around you? Wet, huh? Needy?"
"Unbelievable," you answer honestly - and maybe that's the point; Sana's pussy is incredible. Hot and silky and absolutely unreal. There’s no question, whether she's a work of art, or if she'll fuck you up, but you love that part.
“Ruin her for me, won’t you?” Tzuyu prompts, with that twinkle of mischief you're rapidly becoming accustomed to. "She looks even prettier when she's fucked out. I know you know that."
She does, she does, she does.
Your hips snap, up, fuck in - Sana mewling around the shape of Tzuyu's first two fingers - then back, drawing the motion slow, long, full - until you’re crashing forward and sinking up into that warmth you know is spreading across every inch of Sana’s body, swallowing her up inside-out as her legs start to shake and give and her tongue laps recklessly along the outline of Tzuyu's knuckles.
Sana knows she likes to play at coy and control, but this is never part of the act - your cock fucking her submissive pussy apart - it’s hard to argue she doesn’t love how you can come to own her: hot and fast and filthy, leaving her breathless and desperate, every thrust into her tight cunt punctuated with some pretty whimper. And here, she just… there isn't the luxury, there's nowhere to hide.
Nowhere to run or shy or look away.
Tzuyu curses when finally Sana bites down, part of a long sequence of reflexes that bloom from the depth you fuck up into her cunt. And with her voice back in her throat (Tzuyu's fingers shaking out the sharp pain) she fucking whines into it, unable to stop the steady line of nonsense tumbling past her lips, incoherent except for the single-minded purpose of her own release.
"Fuck, daddy, fuck," Sana repeats in the same way she always does, getting fucked, the letters collapsing into each other. "I'm cumming, fuck, fuck, so fucking wet. God, you're, fuck, right there, oh - I'm cumming, daddy, I’m fucking cumming," is the all further she gets, muddied with the sound of your slicked-up thighs moving in quick rhythm with the beat of your heart, slapping loudly against her skin - loud enough so that the neighbors can probably listen in through paper thin walls.
Then she goes silent, face painted with it all. She isn't crying, the tears won't come, but she's gone this quiet sort of wide-eyed that matches the way she's mouthing, cumming, over and over, you’re pulling me a-fucking-part.
And you believe her. You have to.
Just look at the way her legs are doing all the wrong things. Thighs tensing taut, muscles giving out - she’s slipping down the tiles, back bending and flexing and going limp all at once. Tzuyu's already moving, scooping her up like it's something rehearsed, before you even have to ask, "Tzu, help me hold her up, won't you?"
“Tzu, huh?”
It's not much, but it is worth noting: how Tzuyu, her fingers curling and interlacing between Sana's, holds the girl like she's breakable. Tenderly, cradling Sana's small body against her chest.
"Do you slip into pet names and all that with every girl Sana brings around? Or am I," and when Tzuyu tilts her head, her smile has this very palpable bite, "the exception?"
"Every pretty girl thinks they're special, sweetheart."
Tzuyu just glimpses one downward look into Sana, shivering, riding her orgasm down into nothing, and drops a kiss into her hair. A gentle chuckle: "And when have I ever given you a reason to doubt it?"
"Shameless," is all Sana offers up, beyond exhausted, trying and failing to take more than a passing, somewhat disgruntled interest in the scene unfolding around her, while she clings to the strength Tzuyu and the tile and your hands are putting into her body.
Meanwhile Tzuyu, this devil of a daydream - this tall, skinny thing of long hair and smirking lips and cheekbones as sharp as her wit, has her gaze locked. Still curious, and all but relentless - there's more she's dying to say. It seems almost impracticable that such a lovely woman would really be this way, weapons concealed under all that good-girl charm. And in its most uncomplicated form, that's what it is: an open invitation.
You've only managed the vaguest outlines, after all. "Do you mind?" you ask again.
The next movements feel more elegant than they probably are. Cradling Sana's limp body between you, finding a steady hold.
There’s a slight shuffle to discover a proper balance, a hand slapping the glass of the shower door, and yeah, Sana's fucked out. Slurring out sounds that might resemble the shape of words if she had the presence of mind. The rest are whines and whimpers, obscene in all ways.
“Baby,” Tzuyu tells Sana in a growling kiss to the back of her ear. "Keep your fucking legs up."
(That’s a cue if you were looking for one, to get your arms fastened around Sana's small waist as she leans heavy into your chest.)
"More," The girl in your arms starts to complain, when you truly start fucking her.
"Hurt - hnn, please, more - fuck - harder," and all those sharp edges, that arrogance and conceit, it's all gone. Her pupils are blown out, an animal-like-desire set in its place - these are your invitations to wreck her, you realize, pushing so deep into her well-fucked cunt that she arches, and that her head knocks against Tzuyu's, that the small room is entirely empty save for these movements under the metal cloud of shower water, falling like rain.
This is all there is.
Tzuyu, smirking like she herself might get off on this.
Sana, begging.
And when Tzuyu buries a hot smile at her throat, nibbling at the skin - urging her, urging you, this sharp, "now give her the fucking dicking of a lifetime, will you?"
When Sana’s reduced down to her pleas of, please, harder daddy, and deeper, god, I can feel you so deep -
Well,
You’re all instinct. You sink your fingers into the firm skin of her ass, grab at the soft, slippery flesh around her hips. You sink your cock into her hole again and again.
The stretch is obvious and absolutely devastating, making Sana cry out and muffle her face in your shoulder. She makes a weak sort of sound around your neck - it could be anything, maybe please don't stop, or maybe please do - it doesn't matter.
"You look incredible like this baby, does he fuck you well?" Tzuyu croons, curling around her so her head rests on her shoulder - eyes watching Sana, meeting yours. "Oh, come on, aren't you always telling me about how it makes you feel - all this, full and hot and better than anyone? Now's your chance, no hiding from him. Or me."
"It's so, god it's - I -"
"Come on," Tzuyu squeezes out one long, eager moan with her hand dropped onto Sana's breasts, pulling and kneading like she owns it. "Tell him to cum in you baby, like the good fucktoy you are, let him cum up into that creaming pussy until you’re all sticky and leaking cum all over, just the biggest fucking mess."
There is measurable irony, you suppose, in how Sana brings these friends of hers back with the clear expectation to be fucked and torn apart, how they each want the same, all wanting to get her unraveling and her knees buckling. Only Tzuyu manages, more efficiently than anyone you've ever seen, to leave her all wanton and squirming against your hard, relentless thrusts into her needy cunt.
It's easy: this isn't difficult, there is nothing hard about falling for each and every promise her face has to offer - knowing her body's secrets and drawing the story out, line by line, so you can fall in love with it over and over, all while Sana starts to go helpless at the shape of your cock filling up that tiny, wanting cunt.
So you cum. Inside her. In one final push, filling her completely.
Sana opens her mouth like she's trying to say something - say yes - say daddy, say fuck yes daddy.
"That's it," Tzuyu strokes down Sana's belly. "I knew it - now keep your pretty thighs shut. Can't let even a drop out, understand?"
"Yes, fuck. It's - fuck - good, he feels," Sana finally sobs, chest heaving as you grind the last little bits of cum deep, so far and hot as it can get. All the way in. Where it's hot and wet and throbbing and slick.
Where it should stay, because you never pull out. You savor the last bit of your pulse, sporadic and lethargic. Because in truth - your mind is made and your mouth won't say it because you don’t need to.
Tzuyu's wringing the water out of Sana's hair, picking the strands into careful folds. "Alright then," and her grin is positively lecherous.
There's a bench in the corner of the shower where you eventually arrive, panting now that you realize it, and Sana makes herself at home right in your lap, face buried in your shoulder. Grinding her hips down in this almost imperceptible circle, circling back and feeling. Holding you inside and murmuring into your collarbone.
(Fucked, Sana is simply and unfairly beautiful.)
It’s all in that exhale of a moment, when Tzuyu catches water in cupped palms from the shower-head, wiping away what stray tracks of soapiness left on Sana's shoulder-blades and breasts and thighs. Her hands all up and down her body, sudsing the crease between leg and torso, down lower still, around her sensitive pussy and her folds.
You wonder if she can hear you swallow.
"Maybe we should actually wash up before we go again?"
-
The first thing Sana's free hand goes for when she stumbles through the threshold of your bedroom is a hair band you didn’t know she was storing in the top drawer of your dresser. She fidgets around keeping her towel wrapped tightly around her chest as though modesty were an option at this point.
"What?" she asks, fixing you with a slightly-irritated, slightly-teasing smirk. "You look like you have something you want to say."
"Nothing." You laugh out loud. "It's nothing. I'm just waiting."
She makes this face at you, guilty - so sorry about the contraband - as she twists her wrists and pulls the hair band round her middle-finger, wrapping her palms around her knot of wet blonde and bundling it into a half-assembled ponytail. It leaves the length of her nape exposed and vulnerable, neck flushed pink-from-showering in all the most wonderful of places.
"Waiting," is what she hones in on.
Tzuyu is pulling out of the bathroom. Her hands, washed clean and dried off with a fluffy, off-white towel. When she sets it down, she steps back, leaning on the frame. "He's waiting, for what I wonder?"
She's made of all things smooth-and-sharply-cut. Even from here, even through the sleep-haze fog, the silhouette of her nude figure gives itself to a small sense of anticipation. The long and smooth sweep of her chest, from breast, up and out, and then tapering along down to where her hips flare. She takes a step and then another and lets her fingers ride her side, from the very top of the shallow indentation in the dip of her waist, up. Then the tautness of her abdomen and further still, running slow and over the breast, coming to cup its full weight, pushing the bottom of the curve outwards.
"Waiting to," and she wets her lips in something akin to expectation. "Pound me into the fucking bed?"
You’re smiling when you explain, "I was going to say a request…"
Tzuyu’s dimples deepen. "You mean, like, we can tell you what to do?”
You sit on the bed, which is actually more of a proposition than you realize. "I suppose."
"Sana, sweetie, is there something I should be doing for him," Tzuyu looks up, wearing that trademark kind of playful expression that is definitely deliberate and not at all a tell. "Or maybe I've got this all wrong and you know exactly what you want."
"Well," you manage in reply, sounding surprisingly sane. "Don't both start coming forward with any ideas you have no intention of following through."
"And what if I have no ideas at all? What would you tell me then," is the challenge you find hanging around the slender outline of Tzuyu's wrists, and then at the back of her fingers, as she cards her hands through her hair and pulls it prettily over rise-and-falls of her collarbones, until it's barely curtaining her breasts.
(Barely.)
She crosses over to the bed - to you and Sana - and without much other movement than that, finds a knee on either side of you to let a lone fingertip skirt the tops of your hips. Flirting with the towel around your waist.
"For the record," Tzuyu says, flicking a glance at Sana and leaning down into your jawline. The palm she slides over your thigh is so warm, so promising of its heat and pressure you'd swear you can almost taste the touch of her. "I never, ever go back on my word."
"Try me," you tell her.
"I do have some, ideas." Every time her fingernail ends up between her teeth, it’s another drop in a well that runs god knows how deep. "Though very few of them involve this towel."
“And about the ones that do?”
"Well," Tzuyu starts to purr - reaching a hand down and spreading the flat of her palm on your chest, "I figured if I ever wanted something to bite down on, well, you know."
It's just a subtle little rock - and the perfect view: she starts like this, her hair all tucked behind one shoulder, the arch of her back lifting. Slow at first, Tzuyu only pausing after every other short breath to lick and kiss your lips with hers, and the edges of her teeth, all soft and insistent. You are sure - that with a subtle twitch, a minor jerk of the knee or hip - she is almost right over the perfect place, and when her hips grind in these micro-friction little motions that have her sighing and pushing herself flush, it's clear that all she's looking to do is rub her cunt down all over the erection you've been holding in since the last time your towel was hanging somewhere above your waist.
"Hold, please," Sana interrupts, when she leans over and plucks something out of the messy contents of the nightstand - a few hair clips, and, more importantly, a condom. She swears aloud when the package tears the wrong way, but she's quick to apply a lip balm-slick finger-tip on the inside of the ring, and hands the thing to Tzuyu by way of a passing roll, "so, I assume you've got this under control."
"Give me that."
"Mm. Have at it."
There is an intrusive thought that finds its place, wedged somewhere at the base of your skull when Tzuyu starts the careful act of lowering herself down your shaft - like this, it has an inevitability - a forward momentum, the familiar sense of excitement building a force in your heartstrings. Sana must have a similar sensation, as she scoots her ass and slides one hand over the same place you feel that force thrumming, her palm reaching right for Tzuyu's ass, while Tzuyu hisses out a tiny sound at the added stretch.
"Careful," Sana says, fingers drawn back from the cleft of Tzuyu's beautiful ass with a string of slick that's unmistakably arousal. "You try going back after having his cock. And trust me, there's nothing to go back to. Like, ever."
"That must be why you're always like this," is Tzuyu's cock-sure comeback, finding herself flush with your hips.
You're biting down. You're holding back. You're probably digging nails into your palms hard enough to break skin, because you could be double, triple wrapped, latex running up your length like a goddamn balloon and you'd still feel the hot, melting perfection of Tzuyu's pussy swallowing your cock in one, slick, seamless motion. There isn't any sound either more pleasing than that hitch-groan-slip you hear as Sana helps guide Tzuyu's hips back, forth, back again and to a steady beginning of this proper pace: smooth and full.
You both need a second, because, fuck - and she's biting into a grin. Eyes already half lidded as the speed builds. As Tzuyu starts really enjoying the drag of it, the feeling. The god-damn-fucking-stretch.
"Oh? Like what?" Sana asks, smirk filling out her lips to bridge the silence you're both groaning into. "Like what?"
"Greedy," Tzuyu says. The only part that really needs to get filled in. "Because he fucks the self-control right out of you."
Now Sana lets that settle, and it's not like she doesn't know. Or doesn't understand. And still, "Mm. That does sound like me, doesn't it, daddy?"
(Yeah, well- you- )
Tzuyu watches you watch what happens next: Sana peeling out the cotton slip of her bath towel - sizing up just how good Sana looks. Fuck-me-raw.
And then she laughs, deep and gorgeous. "Didn't he just do a number on you - hn, god. Can you hear him all up inside me? Fucking, splitting me apart."
It's true.
All of it.
The way Tzuyu rides your cock. Faster, faster, rolling her body and drawing her hands together behind the length of her hair and neck until the point of her chin is upturned, showing off the hollow of her throat. A tension that glitters with sweat.
The tightening in the space between the bottom of her ass and your cock - all of it is heaven. This slow-and-rough, rough-and-fast. Tzuyu picks the tempo of it to fuck out a particular pleasure that has you catching her and pulling her closer to your body, holding her through the upward grind, where your cock meets the heat of her cunt - pressing her closer.
That's it.
Possessive. That's what both girls have the good grace to read.
Sana's hands come up Tzuyu's ribs, fingertips skirting the muscle-taut-surface of her stomach, the bumps and grooves of her ribs, and up further still, riding the path of her breasts as they're bobbing-jostled and going full-on heavy - her thumbs go at her nipples. Rolling around the hardened tips - the faintest tug at them, enough to start to pull - then just teasing them between thumb and forefinger and loving the sight of you wincing. Loving that you love that.
"She's pretty, isn't she?" Sana laughs.
"It's a real show," you bite the compliment out. The very least you can get to.
(You'll be fucked if you can hide how much you want to stay buried in this girl and cum a fucking waterfall between those perfect, creamy thighs. Oh, she knows. The dirty little smile, the filthy laugh, you're holding tight - even if the act is useless.)
"Like how she clamps down," she hums. "That's the part I've always loved, you know. She just does everything so slow, so fucking good, so... deliberate."
There's a fist in Tzuyu's hair and no trace of sympathy or self restraint in her friend when Sana tells her, "Baby, ride him slow for me, can you do that?"
When Tzuyu sucks a hiss through her teeth, mouth caught around the sharp intake, Sana just licks a slow line along the curve of her lower lip - as though saying, baby, like the slut you are, remember who asked nicely?
And it turns out: slow is worse. You can feel every tiny tremor of friction, every little shift of Tzuyu's cunt squeezing you. Clinging tightly. Your fingers wrap around her rib cage and hold her right as her ass hits your lap, while her head rolls back into her own hair. It is enough, finally, to draw an out-of-breath little pant out of her, making a beautiful blush crawl and spread across her cheeks - there.
(Oh, fuck, your brain echoes. So, you want slow, that's what the noise from your throat says as she eases back, rising up. So slow, you-can-feel-all-of-me. She makes the effort so flawlessly, it's fucking you both over, because she's looking at Sana with this flutter-beat look, eyes wide, wet and round and pleading.)
It gets that much worse the minute Sana pushes her down by the shoulders. Giving her some resistance. Showing you both she can take you inch by slow goddamned inch.
"Harder. Deeper, sweetie."
Tzuyu does everything Sana says she'll do, loving her fingers in her hair, pulling tight. Control given as easily as that. Because she looks just how she feels: utterly surrendered. A helpless kind of want, like there's something broken in her chest when the head of your cock pushes her deep, deep. To the point she feels something more than an ache.
"Want it," Tzuyu whispers out against Sana's smile. "From the back, like you promised," she says, and takes the shudder out of your breathing.
Sana cups her jaw, laughing. She puts one arm around Tzuyu's throat and bites at her chin, at her ear. "I bet he'd do just about anything to give you what you want, baby."
Tzuyu’s hips snap down onto yours again. Melting your cock in this thick, molten heat.
And again, faster. Needier.
The kind of movements across your lap that make everything louder - a beautiful chorus of small-sounds. Slaps and squelching. Wet and gasping and begging and skin-on-skin. You'd never, ever considered the act a competition before, not with Sana. But when Tzuyu seems to be seeing who can pull the most erotic of noises out from underneath your ribcage - or the highest pitched sigh - the wetter and louder it all gets -
"Sana."
"Tzu."
Tzuyu rides the pressure and finds her voice, head thrown back, jaw slack. "Sana - tell him to, I'm gonna, soon. Tell him what to do."
"Beg for him," and Sana gives her the fakest-of-all-pouts when she slips her hand along Tzuyu's inner thigh, nearing her where the two of you meet, then slowing her pace, bringing you both to an immediate stand-still, while her fingertips continue, ghosting across the shape of your stomach. "He doesn't need anything less than the truth."
Tzuyu's face. It's the most gorgeous thing you've seen. Her hips are winding slow against you when you hit a spot you're not entirely sure either of you can recreate at your own whim: deep inside. Her eyes as wide as they can be. All of her sharp edges now just these subtle things - the very shape of the shadow beneath her clavicle, the tensing of her thighs at your sides, the gentle lines that curl up from the wide bottoms of her hips when your fingers thread up her belly, palm open flat.
"I want," is where Tzuyu starts, not hiding it any part. "I want you to bend me over the bed."
And in a breathless voice:
"Please, please let me have what I want. Just bend me over the bed, shove my legs apart and take me. Hold me down. Fuck me and fill me and don't let me move or say a thing. Until we're both fucking finished."
You swallow. Hard.
Because here's what Sana's brought you: this tall brunette with an impossibly beautiful ass and thighs to die for, a sin-full mouth. The curves in her waist and back and tits a distraction, that you might try to map out until you're so lost you forget how to leave, how to ever take your cock out of this tight cunt.
"Is that a thing you can do?" Tzuyu practically purrs in one long tone, pushing herself up your waist, until your cock falls out and hangs there. Until you can only see all of this clear, gorgeous skin in front of you and hear her pretty little moan. "God, please, daddy, I’m begging you."
(She says this last part in a way that lets you know this isn't something either of you will get over easily, the kind of pleasure, the feeling and the flash. She's unreadable - almost, not quite- just too honest, there's nothing else for you to believe. Maybe that's where the shiver comes from, or your palms itching, or the sounds of your bedding ruffling as you spin her onto her back, her tummy - pull up on her hips until they're sky high and you can palm her breasts, let her press her knees up and apart on the duvet. Until you get that first look down the column of her spine and the sudden, stunning shape of her ass in a view you never want to say goodbye to.)
Tzuyu slides her hands across your sheets, all this stretch. A flex of muscle. When she opens her hips and you push two fingers deep, inside, easy - then back out -
"How much of that," Tzuyu interrupts, blushing furiously, "do I have left to beg with? Please."
- because she's been soaked and aching all day just thinking about it. Just begging for a good fucking - or so she told Sana, who now giggles and leaves small kisses up the ridge of her spine, crawls alongside the dip-line of the mattress, and after curling her fingers around the column of Tzuyu's throat - smooths a single fingernail up and down and presses, tracing, the groove of her jaw as you nudge your cock against her.
It’s not on purpose, this needlessly drawn-out moment - simple brush of latex against her slick, dripping folds, the tightening in her core and how it matches the tension in Sana's wrist and the coarseness of the bed-linens and the hardness of you - but everything eventually folds, into her.
And you're not helping, the way you're fastened to the narrow point of her waist like it's a handle. Your thumbs riding the arch of her hips, taking every opportunity to sink your fingers hard into the flesh, grip tighter and push, pulling Tzuyu, if only to really work that friction between your hips.
"Fuck, it's all in. Finally." Sana gasps like she's the one being bent, arched, fucked from behind, then lays herself down against the length of Tzuyu's shoulder, chin bumping her cheek. Watching Tzuyu. Taking it all in.
You have a hard time making it out, but Tzuyu starts this half-whimpered litany about how she needs to be fucked (that is, roughly - deep and long, or maybe rough and short and deep, or whatever, as long as it makes her lose composure), followed with some shoddy mix of cursing and your name and Sana's - the things all three of you might consider for another chance meeting.
And as you're following up the suggestion with a low groan, that's exactly how you notice that grind in her hips - a jerk back, a twist, bucking against you. She feels so, so incredibly tight when she writhes onto you, squeezes. Like she wants to tear her heart out her chest, she's so overwhelmed. So thoroughly and totally taken by this fuck. By you. "Harder," is all she says.
This one line does it, then two more. All in-and-out thrusts from behind, fuller the second time, then the third.
Only when you find Tzuyu peering back over her shoulder with a pair of eyes that say, please, pretty-please, all liquid and warm and wanting. "Fucking ruin that cunt, I want - god. Do you have the slightest idea how much," and that is where the words disappear into a slow and sticky whine.
"Yeah baby," Sana whispers.
She knows what it is. Tzuyu wants so much more, so you give it. Give her the just-this-side-of-ruthless fucking and the slow-pace grind you know can push her right over the edge. Give her more, all of you, and get her hands twisting in the pillow and grabbing fistfuls of sheets, burying her face into the space above her wrists and nearly choking on her hair with how she moans and yelps - loud.
Her whole body jolts forward the next time. The arch to her back deepening. Body drawing in on a flawless line.
Tzuyu does cum. Eventually.
She keens and rolls and begs you not to pull out or slow, just stay put and fill her with your cum - keep fucking going, please. The only thing keeping her from landing flat on your mattress as she practically unravels around your cock are fingers you have under her hips, tightening. Bruising.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck me, you’re,” you’re railing out of her lungs, where the words hang on sex-stale air.
First with Sana whispering promises into her ears and letting Tzuyu swallow, and suck around the length of her index, then two, fingers. Then licking a kiss into her mouth, tongue tangling up hers and finishing up the act with, "cum for us, Tzu, like the sweet girl you are - you take him so well."
Then, with your hand held over her ass-
(She could cry from it. From how everything pulls you in, like a riptide, and, really, with no regard for things like safety or drowning.)
-the utterance off her lips has your stomach twisting into knots:
"Keep," you hear her ask Sana. Barely getting the words out as you ride, fast. "Please, keep, telling him that I - god."
It gets worse before it gets better.
"I can't - I need; fuck, I can’t, with the rubber, I want him," and Sana smirks like she knew all along. "Sana, please-"
"You want the real thing, sweetie. Isn't that right, baby? Hm. Of course it's okay," and Sana soothes a hand through her friend's fringe, pushes it away from her eyes and over her ears, making something that sounds like an adoring laugh slip out. "You want him to fuck his cum so deep in that pussy, I know you do, don't worry."
When you slow down the grinding, wipe the sweat from your face, Sana gets your attention and nods to the very place your cock is disappearing between the cheeks of Tzuyu's ass, "go ahead. If you want the mess-up, sweetie - let's make sure that's exactly what he'll give you."
Who exactly wants what most is hard to say. Sana's the one pulling off the condom, the rubber stretching to an obscene limit that has you fearing for your life should it snap back before it breaks. Tzuyu is already a sort of gaping mess with it all, her own fingers snuck under to rub harsh circles in the absence of cock and something firm and heavy to fill her. To feel full.
And there's you, asking, or maybe, double-checking: "Tzuyu, you're saying you want me to-"
"She doesn't care," is what you're interrupted with, courtesy of Sana. "Fuck a baby into her cunt, that's what she wants."
(Like you wouldn't fucking love it too. Or have the frame of mind to even begin to unpack all of that.)
It’s a lot, admittedly.
And not just because Tzuyu has never looked better: on all fours, pressed, and presented. Legs all the way apart and ass and thighs in your grip, with that smile all pointedly certain and wild-eyed, like, she knows, that you know exactly what to give her - what she really wants - filling her so full and marking your claim by fucking your cum right to her very core.
Tzuyu drags her head back, so she can peek over her shoulder and meet your eyes.
She does things. Like sighing this small sound and laughing and - she has this thing for noises, for things breaking under the strain, where she won't say a word, except to murmur some part of your name into your jawline, a raggedness in her breathing. Sheer hunger.
"I want - want you to, fuck me."
You will. Or you are. Or you're going to, only - Sana's lips are fast around your cock, fingers fluttering delicately between your thighs and drawing these stuttering sounds in your breath, "I will. I will. I'm - I will."
Sana just hums, copper hair bobbing in place. Her hot mouth and wet fingers pulling and sliding and pulling and sliding. Tongue moving in all the ways she knows you like.
Which, here’s a fact: Sana can be mean. No one would believe it.
But sometimes this is the price of admission. You have to be honest about what it takes, how, exactly, you intend to break this beautiful brunette whose ass is swaying back and forth in this mesmerizing little waggle of the hips. It's hard not to marvel, not to ask questions and not wonder at what a pair of friends so similar and so opposite do to each other and other people and to themselves in those small, private hours and space no one else shares, that has you panting and burning and her clasping the hollow of your neck and asking with her body if this is okay, because sometimes, in moments of absolute need, just a glance can mean your end.
So, there's no tease; Sana is well aware of what it feels like when you're throbbing and ready to burst - she's working you up and over and right to that point of no return-
"Can I? Fucking-"
"Fine," she replies, maybe having now considered every other way you might spill a hot load out and make a mess of the sheets. "Have at her," and a flick of tongue catches around the tip of your cock - the final tease, the best punishment.
And the promise of how Tzuyu makes that perfect whimpering cry. Something entirely wounded. Because as soon as it begins - your cock in the shallow depth of her creaming cunt - you're both made aware how she's wetter than she was an hour ago and clenching at nothing, hands balling themselves in frustration, palms bunched white-knuckled up in fists. She needs something, anything. Something for her to squeeze against. For her to bear down on and bounce her cunt off-
The sound all three of you make when you grit your teeth and bury yourself deep into her pussy is a guttural, aching thing, with you biting a lip and gasping. Tzuyu half-growling-half-sobbing into the sheets.
It doesn't matter that she lets Sana cover her open and slack mouth in an attempt to quiet it.
It doesn't matter because in a blink, the exact point in which you sink completely inside - where it's the first, the best, feeling of Tzuyu’s hot pussy taking your cock.
(Mind-numbing, is the word that doesn't come to you.)
Under you, Tzuyu is writhing and hot and tight into the mattress - and so desperate.
"Please," is about all that gets away from her. Which is just too cute to ignore: she's been dying to be fucked, ever since stepped into your foyer and was introduced by the softest, most deliberate of gestures that wound up being all-too intimate. "Please- I need - harder, fucking-"
Sana takes to touching you, her own little form of enjoyment that ends with her fingertips mapping the shape of your jaw. Pupils blown, "Isn't she amazing?" Sana laughs into your neck.
"Fucking," is what your first real stroke back into Tzuyu pulls out, “unreal."
The friction has you both grinding your bodies together at the base, and she arches, this throaty moan, before looking back up at you and letting her mouth fall open - this wordless sentence of plea, over and over again. She's shaking. Body-full. It's almost something painful to see, that she's so undone - and what if you were the only person who'd ever fucked her like this: into ruin.
Tzuyu clenches around the next thrust - begging, so-sore-and-begging to cum.
The demand is practically written in her muscles, and all you want is for her to let go for the second, third, last time - until she loses track of the count. To get there before you have the time to register that she is actually doing it. She's already half-way gone and at your mercy - her only choices now, being: cum, or let you chase the orgasm you're currently rubbing all around the curve of her cunt.
Sana swallows her scream when the first little cry comes, that you've edged out of her. And it gets worse and better the second time her ass meets your thighs, where she's making a real mess on your hips and all but yelling out her orgasm in her state of such incoherent stutter and disarray. The arch to her back is this thing out of your best imagination, which has you - pounding out all her noises - gripping and curving over the plane of her stomach. Until Tzuyu's beginning to make these different cries, somewhere new, somewhere you're finding a whole lot deeper.
"Hold her ass up and fuck her 'til she's full of cum," is the advice you get from Sana in the end, as you fuck her and fuck her through the tumultuous rise and fall of orgasm after orgasm, "oh baby, does it hurt so good? Do you feel that heat spreading down your thighs and getting you all slick? You always knew the best toys are the ones that get bred, sweetheart."
And from her, barely, "fuck, yes."
That's what does it: the desperation just that tangible in all your voices.
Sana manages to get her lips on yours. A kiss that could knock the wind out of your sails under normal circumstances, one that curls a fist and tugs around a familiar part of you. But Tzuyu's eyes roll and drop low, fluttering shut, while your hips crash in quickening succession:
"Fuck-you're so-perfect, cum in me again, daddy - make me," and, "please, so fucking full, just give me more. Want more of you, until it's-"
Tzuyu gets you. Just there. Just the way you needed it. Just like that.
There's something addictive in how her muscles clench and grab around the head of your cock - drawing everything you'd been holding back to a painful front, and - Sana's taste in your mouth still so sweet, mixed with salt and sweat, while you fuck and pound, with absolutely zero respite. Cum buried deeper and deeper until it's spilling and Tzuyu whines for the filthy feeling. Until you're fucked through, emptying every single drop into her open cunt. Until your legs feel sore, a slight shake all through the muscle and the tension in your neck and shoulders, and you're growling this thing that might be her name, and "Tzu, my god, baby, you feel, so amazing," in between thrusts.
It earns you an appreciative whimper.
Something breathy and not-at-all restrained. She doubles down on it when your cock slides out of her swollen, well-fucked cunt.
At first, she only hums a sleepy smile and turns her face in toward the touch, eyes closed and unresponsive. A long exhale. Even like this - especially, perhaps - Tzuyu is lovely.
Either out of exhaustion or overbearing satisfaction, you collapse into her - bodies folding up like that old-cliche about a stack of cards or dominoes - with your cheek to her back and your arms wrapping around her chest, tight, trying to squeeze. Like you're hugging someone from behind. Which isn't too far off. Because for the next five or ten or fifteen minutes or a half-hour, you lie there, pressing your face in against the side of her neck, smelling her hair - how sweet the strands are - then down along her shoulders, and under, listening to the soft way Tzuyu falls into her breaths.
In, out. In, out.
Sana follows all the while with, "should we not have let her ride, first?"
To which, Tzuyu says, "fuck off."
Sana brushes it off, crawls around your shoulders and slips two, three, five kisses into your forehead. That's when you know to shuffle over, dragging and tugging limbs and muscles and bone in the same direction - careful not to let the sticky sensation linger anywhere it shouldn't. Not even for an instant.
The three of you are laying in a total fucking mess. But it's your mess, and that's beautiful in a sort of thought-provoking poetic way.
You turn your head. Tzuyu's there, still, blinking slowly.
"Hello again, hi," you say and the smile comes up all sorts of natural. "Okay?"
Her gaze shifts into something vague, so much quieter, but she nods. So it must be. Okay.
-
“Is it too early?” Tzuyu asks two weeks later, and nothing has ever, ever started like that.
She’s at your doorstep, a little too dressed up for the middle of the afternoon, hair pulled away from her face in two loose braids, bright eyes, lip-gloss that shimmers just enough. Something innocent in the whole way she looks and stands and smiles. Nothing, on the surface, that gives the truth away.
You lift an eyebrow, skeptical. Always. "I wasn't expecting company."
"Yes you were," and she dangles a set of keys.
"I'm sorry, did you steal those?"
The laughter from her chest is as surprising as it is gorgeous, rich and thick like molasses, rolling over the shape of her tongue. It hits you hard that two weeks - really, any amount of time - it’s not nearly long enough.
And before Tzuyu can admit as much out loud, Sana chirps from her spot aside the door, knee bent and grinning, "maybe I did."
"Well," you say, hands on your hips, "this is all a little..."
"Irregular, I know." Sana's giving her best impression of you: so exasperated.
"Which is, honestly," she continues to explain, pushing away from her perch and approaching in these small, gentle steps. "We need, that thing you promised you'd do," she trails a finger up the buttons of your shirt, under your jaw. You're already drowning. "Whenever" - is her very worst torture - "we called."
(Might just be a little bit of trouble, is the one honest answer, to whatever you were trying to start when you saw their faces and recognized their bodies and said: yes, come inside and meet me and fuck my brains out, all that.
What a way to begin. What a story it'll be.)
a/n: these two are fucking adorable.
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Protecting Boyfriend | Quinn Hughes
summary — During the Canucks home game, a man says some not-so-nice words to you because you're wearing a Hughes jersey. When Quinn finds out, he does everything he can to protect you and makes sure you get the pep talk you need to hear
pairing — quinn hughes x reader
words — 2165
warning — not-so-nice- words
A wide smile formed on your lips as you entered the Rogers Arena.
Today would be the game against the Coyotes that you've been looking forward to for the past week.
You can't wait to support your boyfriend Quinn and the rest of the team live in person, and then at home, in your own stadium.
You slowly walk down the stairs to your seat, from which you have a perfect view of the entire ice.
But from your seat you not only have a good view of the field, but also of the Canucks players who are seated not far from you.
That way, if your boyfriend wasn't on the field, you'd get a good look at number 43.
You can hardly wait for the stadium to fill up and the 1st period to begin.
In fact, it doesn't take too long before the stadium starts to fill up and various people fill the seats with their jerseys bearing the shirt numbers of their favorite players.
Today you are also wearing the blue Canucks jersey with Quinn's number on it, which you wear at every game you attend.
From the beginning, it was natural for you to show up at your games in his jersey and not to wear any expensive clothes to make your appearance at Quinn's games a kind of catwalk.
There were many wives or girlfriends of players who used the games to get themselves all dressed up and did half a shooting during the game to get likes and attention on Instagram or various other platforms.
But you've never been like this before. Supporting Quinn has always been your number one priority and that will never change.
"Hello," an older man in a Canucks jersey greets you as he sits down on the happy seat next to you.
"Hello," you reply in a friendly manner and give the man a friendly smile.
As your gaze begins to wander through the now full stadium and the noise level slowly rises, you feel a gaze on you.
Slowly, you turn your face in the direction of the man who had greeted you kindly just a few minutes ago.
Now there's a crinkled look on your face as he eyes you intently and begins to make you feel uncomfortable.
You've always been a little reserved around strangers, so the words that now leave your mouth surprise you.
"Is everything all right? Or is something wrong?"
The man begins to mumble something into his beard, which you can't understand due to the volume level.
"Excuse me? What did they say?" you ask as your heart starts to beat a little faster with nervousness.
You just want to watch the game in peace, without incident.
"I said that it's obvious that you're wearing a Hughes jersey of all things, like almost all the young women here."
"What makes you think that?"
The confusion was written all over your face. Of course you know that there are a lot of fans wearing the number 43 jersey, but there certainly weren't that many in the stadium just now.
"You young women now only pick players who look good. Most of you aren't even interested in the sport itself," he rants, causing you to look shocked.
You expected anything, but not this. What is wrong with this older man? And above all, what the hell did he have the nerve to say that to you?
Stunned, you start to shake your head and just as you've thought of the perfect answer, it gets loud and the teams enter the ice.
Probably better that way, because at least the man next to you was quiet and you could more or less enjoy the game.
Because you wouldn't let him ruin the day you've been looking forward to for a week.
—
The man had actually kept his mouth shut to you the whole game.
But when Quinn scored a goal and you, like several other fans, jumped up and cheered loudly, you heard other comments coming from his direction, but you couldn't hear them over the loud cheering and music.
Now the game is over, which the Canucks won 2-1.
A broad smile returns to your face, but it is immediately extinguished when the man next to you stands up and gives you an annoyed look.
"Well you fangirl? Did you even watch and understand the game? Or were you just undressing Hughes with your eyes?" His voice growls slightly, making you flinch and reflexively wrap your arms around your body.
This can't be true. Why can't the man just leave you alone and make his way home?
Even if you were just a fangirl who was only there because of Quinn, that wouldn't be his problem.
You just shake your head and leave your seat.
As you climb the stairs to get to the exit, you try not to let on too much how much the man has intimidated you and you're starting to panic.
It's all good, y/n. Just keep walking. You'll be with Quinn in a minute, you repeat the phrases over and over in your head as you leave the stadium, a light breeze blowing through your hair.
You breathe out deeply and close your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again and mingling with the crowd of fans to get to the back of the stadium.
There you will meet Quinn so that you can finally embrace him and congratulate him on his victory.
As you reach the back entrance, where a barrier has already been erected in front of the exit and one or two fans are already waiting to intercept their favorite player, you look around.
So as not to get in the way of any of the fans, you stand in the corner of the barrier so that everyone else has enough space. After all, you're not there to get autographs or photos, but to wait for your boyfriend.
But luck was not on your side. A few seconds later, the man you just met stands next to you and looks at you with an annoyed expression.
"Well, are you trying to get your hands on Hughes?" There is disgust in his voice. He speaks so quietly that only you can hear him.
Your heart begins to hammer faster against your ribs as your hands claw at the barrier and you try to stay calm.
"Stop it," you whisper on the verge of tears, which makes you angry with yourself for showing the man weakness.
But you can't do anything about it. The words and the way he treats you start to burn on your soul and reopen some old wounds.
You don't have an answer ready, but if you were honest with yourself, no perfect answer would shut the man up.
As the first players come out of the stadium and start signing autographs and taking photos with their fans, you stand on tiptoe to get a better look at when Quinn will finally arrive.
Quinn was never one of the first to leave the dressing room and then the stadium, so it would be a while before he arrived.
You would survive these few minutes - hopefully.
"Don't get your hopes up, sweetie. Hughes would never take you home," the man laughs as he steps closer to you.
"If they only knew..." You mumble, unaware that you've just spoken your thoughts out loud as you take a step to the side to put more distance between you.
"Excuse me?" the man hisses.
"I said, if they knew," you start and then gather all your courage for the next words that leave your mouth. "He's my boyfriend."
The man next to you starts to laugh out loud, attracting the attention not only of the other fans, but also of one or two of the players.
Confused, Dakota, Conor and Elias look in your direction. It took a few seconds for the three's eyes to grow wide as they recognize you and realize what's happening right in front of them.
"Hey, man. Do you want an autograph too?" Dakota asks as he approaches you and the man.
Dakota gives you a warm and gentle look, trying to make you realize that everything is going to be okay.
"Oh, I'd love to!" The man beams now and starts to engage Dakota in a conversation in which he is overly friendly.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Elias run back into the stadium, followed shortly afterwards by Quinn.
Relief spreads through your body as you spot Quinn, who looks anything but pleased.
He looks angry.
Elias must have summarized everything for Quinn.
Several fans start yelling for Quinn, but he only has eyes for you.
He approaches you with quick steps, puts his hands on your hips and lifts you over the barrier.
"Are you okay, babe?" You ask him as you feel his tense muscles under the suit.
"I should ask you if you're okay, if anything. Why didn't you say anything?" Quinn looks down at you with a worried expression.
"I couldn't have said that during the game..." you begin, but are immediately interrupted by Quinn.
"But during the break. You could have texted me or come to the dressing room."
Quinn strokes your hair gently as he continues to look at you with concern.
His muscles relax slightly under your hand, which is still on his chest.
But you know that won't last long.
"I wouldn't take her home tonight!" A voice calls out, making you flinch.
Immediately, Quinn's muscles tense again as his face becomes angry again and his hands automatically clench into fists.
"Quinn..." You begin, but Quinn doesn't seem to hear you at all.
He gently pushes you over to Elias, who has become like a big brother to you over the last few years, when you've spent a lot of time with him and Quinn.
"Elias..." You mumble anxiously as you look up at the blond.
"Don't worry, y/n. He won't do anything stupid," Elias promises you, but you're not even sure if you can really believe his words.
From a safe distance, you watch Quinn more or less stumble the man together.
As you do, you pick up a few scraps of words, like "My girlfriend...She doesn't deserve this...Greatest person on earth...Our team doesn't need fans like you..."
It's not long before the man is taken away by security and Quinn returns to you.
Sniffling, you throw yourself into his strong arms, which he wraps tightly around you and presses you gently against him.
"I'm sorry," Quinn mumbles into your hair.
"It's not your fault," you sniffle as you look up at him and see a few tears in his eyes.
"But he hurt you and said things to your head that no one should ever hear. And if you get hurt, it hurts me here too."
Quinn reaches for your hand and places it where his heart is.
"Oh, Quinn..." you whisper as countless tears begin to roll down your cheeks.
He was incredibly sweet to you and now, after you had to hear those nasty and caustic words from the man, he made sure that you were moved to tears.
"If that happens again - which I hope it doesn't. Would I like you to come straight to me, Elias or another one of my colleagues, yes?"
Quinn looks you in the eye and then kisses your forehead.
"I promise," you murmur as you snuggle back into his arms and enjoy his strong, warm arms.
All the words that had hurt you just a moment ago disappeared as if by magic while you were in Quinn's arms and enjoying his closeness.
"I want you to forget all those words that man banged on your head, y/n. You know none of those words are true. I know it's hard to get these words out of my head, but I hope they help you. You're the best person I've ever met. You are the love of my life. You're always there for me, you make me feel better no matter how bad I'm feeling, you make me laugh and just your presence makes me feel good. I love you y/n and I could go on and on, but then we'd be here until tomorrow and I hope these words help you forget all the crap he's thrown at you."
His words caused a tear or two to roll down your cheeks. You were touched by how lovingly he treated you and had the perfect words to make you feel better.
And Quinn's words actually manage to put all the man's words out of your head once and for all.
Quinn was not only your friend, but also your protector.
Even though you do this side of him and you like how protective he is of you, you hope that something like today won't happen again.
#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes#quinn hughes imagine#nhl x y/n#nhl oneshot#nhl fanfiction#nhl x reader#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl#nhl hockey
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jackie and wilson.
previous | next series masterlist.
summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.
paring: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader
word count: 4k
content: luke is still a moody teenager, reader is still the fly he cant get rid of. does he really want to, though?
notes: these first two parts feel very introductory but it gets juicy as we dive a little further in the next parts hehe. also who do we think readers godly parent is?
PART II — and lord, she found me just in time
For a hotshot lawyer, your mom couldn’t lie for the life of her. Every time you brought it up, she’d always quip that she didn’t need to be a good liar to be a good lawyer, since all new evidence is legally required to be disclosed to both parties before they are presented in court. Therefore, there is no lying, only brief twisting of the truth. She was good at that — clearly.
“You said you didn’t want me to leave you!”
The wooden floor of Chiron’s office wasn’t the most comfortable of lounging places, but you’d accidentally kicked the radiator after tripping over a horseshoe and Mr. D — who had escorted you there when you’d asked about speaking to your mom — had just sighed and told you to use the mist currently spraying from it as a form of communication. The whole Iris Message thing was still unusual to you, but at the same time, you’d tripped over a horseshoe because the owner of the office was half-horse. Does it get weirder than that? Probably not.
You leaned back on your haunches, disbelief written all over your face at the scene you…walked in on? Called in on? Iris Messaged in on? Whatever — you were more worried about what you were looking at than the right terminology to describe it.
“Oh — sweetie!” Your mom was quick to hop down from the kitchen counter, pushing the man who had been standing between her legs away from her so forcefully he fell back into the living room.
“What was that?” You heard him ask from afar. Your mom chuckled, buttoning up her blouse.
“The answering machine.” She excused, “I completely forgot I was supposed to call back my daughter. Would you give me a minute?”
The man agreed with a huff and your mom pushed the kitchen door closed with a click before looking at you, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms, “I didn’t. I sure do now!”
“I’ve been gone for, like, two days!” You exclaimed, “And you’re already inviting your boyfriend over? How old are you?”
“Oh, let it go.” The woman chastised, shaking her head and attempting to push down her amused smile. “I was bored.”
“Bored.” You chuckled, “Of course.”
“But I miss you.” She said then, smiling sweetly and leaning her hip on the island, “How’s camp?”
“It’s great.” You grinned, “The people are great, the food is great. Turns out, I am super with a spear.”
“A spear, huh?” Your mom nodded, “No surprise there, you’ve got a hell of an arm.”
You hummed excitedly, the previous event long forgotten as you filled her in on your first few days at camp, “One of my friends in cabin nine offered to make me a personal one.” Your mom furrowed her brows, “Children of Hephaestus. Blacksmith guy.”
“Right.” She nodded with a click of her tongue. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” You smirked cheekily, ignoring the scoff and evil look she sent you in response.
“Alright. I best go.” She interrupted just as you went to make another comment about her guest, “I will see you at the end of summer. Okay?”
“Okay. Love you.”
Truthfully, you were happy to spend the rest of the day talking to your mom — it was so hot that morning that you’d thought about sacrificing your breakfast to Apollo in hopes that he’d ease up a little. You decided against it and just sent your prayers to each of them in general, hoping maybe your dad could fess up to actually being your dad.
Clarisse had suspected you would soon join her in the Ares Cabin — something about your skills with a spear and the swift right hook you sent Chris when he made one too many comments on your form during your training session with her. You weren’t even sure why he’d been there, but you could probably fathom a guess if you judged by the looks he sent her whenever she wasn’t looking.
After the exciting discovery that yes, you were good at something, Mr. D had come by to say you could either call your mom now or never. You chose the former option, obviously, and you only regretted it slightly as you heaved yourself up from the ground — already missing the sound of her voice.
You didn’t let it linger, instead you pushed the creaky door of the Big House open as gently as you could, even though it still swung back against the wall, and nodded at the pair sitting on the porch, currently in a heated card game you couldn’t recognise. They didn’t look at you for long, Chiron muttering something about meeting the Demeter kids by the fields to test your gardening skills before putting down a card that made Mr. D grumble in his seat.
You were trudging through the grass, huffing when the longer bits tickled your legs and made you go all itchy, when you spotted a body sat by the hearth in the horseshoe of cabins. You lit up, changing course and jogging over to them, “JoJo!”
Luke looked up at you, frowning, “What?”
His curls fell over his eyes and he shook them away, only to squint at the sun that shone into them. You sidestepped, your shadow proving ample shade so he could focus on you, and you stammered a bit when his face fell into focus. He was pretty.
You let out a breathless chuckle, folding your arms, “From Horton Hears a Who.” He shows no signs of recognition, “You’ve never seen it?” Again, his face did little to answer you, so you shrugged, “Whatever. I’ll get an answer out of you one day, I’m sure. We’ve made steady progress.”
“Have we?” He hummed, picking at the worn sleeve of his hoodie.
“Of course we have, ya’ nutmegger.” You quipped with a short chuckle, grinning when his eyes snapped back to yours.
“You still haven’t told me where you’re from.”
You tutted, “Where’s the fun in that? You gotta find out.”
He huffed, “Whatever.”
Since his outburst about New England the day before, Luke had done a considerable job at avoiding you. Well, you didn’t think he was doing it on purpose — he just wasn’t obligated to spend time with you anymore now that you were cleared to roam camp on your own. You’d seen him at breakfast, perched silently on the end of the bench and staring sadly at his soggy oatmeal, but then Clarisse had whisked you off to the training fields with Chris hot on her tail and you hadn’t seen him since.
You weren’t completely sure why you were so determined to break his shell. Maybe it was because you knew he never used to be this way — that underneath the deep frowns and annoyed huffs, was a happy boy who would spend days in the sun with his teeth bared in a wide grin — and you yearned to get a peek of who Luke Castellan used to be. To bear your eyes on the side of him he kept away and to find out why he did so, to understand him on a level deeper than anyone around you did, or even deeper than you understood yourself.
Or maybe because he’s hot.
Either way, you weren’t letting him slide away that easily. No sir. You straightened your back, “Going to the gardens.”
No reply, as usual.
A huff, “Mind walking me? I don’t wanna get lost.”
He looked at you, brown eyes flitting over your expression, before licking his lips and standing, “Fine.”
You grinned then, wide and sunny, “Great.”
You knew where the gardens were — hell, you could see them from where you stood, the two teenage sons of Dionysus chasing each other with sticks while the Demeter kids scowled at them. But you were new, and Luke was ‘the guy’ for all the new campers, so really he wasn’t allowed to say no.
You were desperate to know more about him; his favourite sport, movie, colour. Anything irrelevant that you could see in public and think: Luke. You just didn’t know where to start — he could shut down at any given moment, so which question was more fitting to ask before he built up his walls and fucked off?
You settled for something easy — something subtle that wouldn’t hint towards you asking about him. An easy question that any reasonable tour guide would have to answer.
“So, do you guys host any…mortal activities?” Looking up at him in question, brows raised as he once again made no indication that he’d even heard you speak.
But he had, “Not usually. Sometimes on weekends we’ll play volleyball on the beach, and I think Lee Fletcher has a soccer ball he kicks around but…” He shrugged, “No. Not really.”
You hummed, “You said we. Do you play volleyball?”
Nice one.
Luke stiffened a little, sort of appalled that you’d swerved the question on him so easily, but he answered with a grumble, “Not anymore.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, “Grew out of it.”
“Huh.” You said then, facing forward with a nod and continuing your trek through the long grass, occasionally reaching down to scratch your calves, “I don’t think I’ll ever grow out of baseball.”
Come on, Castellan, take the bait.
“Baseball?”
“Yes!” You exclaimed, a little too excitedly for it to be a simple answer to a simple question. You lowered your volume and gave a more collected nod, “Yeah. Yes. I’ve played since I was old enough…little league.” You let out a weak chuckle, suddenly shy about the subject.
Luke nodded at you, “First base?”
“Left field.” You corrected with a proud smile, “I got legs.”
“Oh.” He replied, a little caught off guard at that. Although, he was also caught off guard when you said you played baseball.
You were debating whether or not to press when a gangly blonde boy with dark purple eyes jogged up to you and held out a wicker basket, “You’re the new kid right?” He didn’t wait for an answer before thrusting the basket to your chest, “I’m Pollux. We’re picking strawberries, c’mon, I’ll show you the best way to get ‘em.”
You weren’t sure there was a specific tactic to picking strawberries, but you stepped to follow him anyway. Turning your head to send a thankful smile to Luke for walking you down, you spotted him looking between you and Pollux with furrowed brows — then he noticed your stare and swallowed, nodding, “Uh, see you later.”
“Bye.” You replied, slightly starstruck. He walked off, but he did it slowly as if he was unsure of where to go next. You were positive he had somewhere to be — big shot counsellor and all — but as you stood, one foot in front of the other, face turned back to watch him go, he seemed to stutter in his steps at the top of the hill, deciding where to turn. His beaten converse led him west, and Pollux yelled you out of your stupor so you could help him and his brother pick strawberries.
As suspected, your strawberry-picking skills were pretty much the same as everyone else’s — really, how can one person be any better at picking strawberries than another? It’s a very simple task. Either way, Castor and Pollux didn’t envision you as their long lost sister, and the Demeter kids apparently couldn’t smell it on you that you were one of them, whatever that meant, so you were back to your search for daddy dearest — at this point, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to find out anymore. All this hassle and for what? It’s not as if he was going to attend the daddy-daughter dance with you, no matter which god he might be.
“So, do you, like, know Luke or something?”
Henry Furstatt was a Demeter kid a couple of years younger than you, who had been set the task of walking you to the lake where you would rejoin the Hermes cabin on their canoe lesson. He wasn’t very talkative until you’d put some distance between yourselves and the strawberry fields, where he posed his question.
You glanced at him with a thoughtful frown, “I mean, he’s been showing me around the past couple days, so…I guess —“
“I meant like,” He swallowed, waving his hands around, “from before. Did you know each other before you came to camp?”
“Oh.” You responded, tucking a loose hair that had fallen in front of your face away, “No. Why’d you think that?”
Henry shrugged, his loose-fitting camp shirt doing wonders to hide the movements, “Dunno. He just hasn’t talked to many people since he got back from his quest…but he’s talking to you.”
“Well.” You were suddenly a little sheepish — were you pushing Luke too much? Was your constant questioning making him uncomfortable? You were only on a mission to find out more about him because he interested you, but did you interest him, or was he ready to boot you as far as you’d fly? “He has to, doesn’t he? He’s still a counsellor, even if he does hate everyone here.”
“True.” He settled with a nod, fiddling with a daisy he’d picked while you were walking.
You breathed a content sigh when you finally stepped out of the grass — the summer blooming made it slightly unbearable to walk through, tickling at your legs the whole afternoon. The beating sun didn’t make you feel any nicer, but you just wafted your shirt a little as you walked past the Hermes cabin and towards the dock.
Camp was always noisy; something you’d grown accustomed to the longer you stayed there. You never really noticed it until you were alone, but the chatter of the kids filled the air the whole day and only really faded out when they all went to sleep. It was slightly unnerving to sit in the silence, and the loud murmurs often comforted you — made you feel less suffocated as the new kid. Less eyes on you, the better.
You were so used to the noise, in fact, that you almost completely brushed past the argument that was brewing outside the Ares cabin just a few metres away. Fortunately, Henry spotted the commotion, and pulled you to a halt in favour of staring at the ever-growing crowd.
You followed his eyeline and spotted a burly looking boy with black hair — when he moved his head and the sun hit the right spots, you could see dark red highlights swimming in his locks. You thought that was a little bit much, but you forfeited commenting on it considering the giant machaira that hung on his back.
The boy in question was sneering at someone in front of him, but the corners of his mouth were perked up in an amused smile that made you think he wasn’t angry yet, but he sure was getting there. You couldn’t see who he was talking to, but as Henry ventured closer, you were forced to follow and eventually his words reached your ears.
“—big shot golden boy finally got himself a quest and doesn’t fancy sharing the details.” He laughed, deep and low in his throat.
Henry patted someone on the shoulder, and they stepped aside to let him into the circle. You stayed behind him, watching over his head and finally checking out the opponent. Your eyes stopped on the familiar figure, and his familiar curls that hung over his eyes — eyes that were glaring daggers in the Ares kid’s direction, casting shadows over his cheekbones and making his scar look a little menacing.
The boy continued after Luke showed no signs of replying, “We get it, Castellan. You failed, but that doesn’t mean you get to gatekeep the whole thing.”
“Dean, man.” You finally noticed Chris, standing off to the side of Luke and glancing at his brother in apprehension at the boy's words. “Back off.”
Dean just snorted, “Don’t defend him, Rodriguez. We let him mope, now it’s time for him to spill the beans.” He took a step closer to Luke, “What happened on your quest?”
You had only known Luke for two days. You weren’t sure if he was the type to fly off the handle, swing before reasoning, but you suddenly became aware that neither did anyone else. Sure, these people had known him for years — but you’d heard it from enough people to know that he was a different person these days. After his quest a couple of weeks ago, people had been walking on eggshells around the boy. Maybe a month ago, he would’ve calmly walked away and let Dean simmer in his anger. But now? Nobody could be sure, but judging by the look in his eyes, darkening by the second, you might be able to fathom a guess as to what he’s going to do with his hands now that they were rolled into fists.
“I mean, is this about glory? Because you won’t exactly be sharing it — ya’ can’t share what you don’t have.” Dean let out a chortle at his own joke, looking between his friends around him and grinning with them.
Luke stepped forward. And — you couldn’t blame anyone, really. After that last comment, you were all expecting fists to be swung. It was only reasonable. Maybe the old Luke wouldn’t have done it, but this new Luke was looking increasingly more angry at the world as the days went by, so when he took one measly step forward, the crowd around him let out a collective woah! and put their hands out to stop him from lunging. Including yourself.
Only he wasn’t about to punch Dean. His hand stayed dormant at his side, the only clear movement was the single step closer he’d taken to match the one the Ares boy had made earlier. He was only really stepping forward so his next words would hit harder — that’s all it was, words. They died on his lips when he realised the implications of his actions, looking between the outstretched arms and tense faces.
He looked at Dean, “We can discuss quests when you get your own.”
Then he walked off, past the crowd that didn’t bother stopping him. Looking around, you saw the looks on their faces — shame, from assuming Luke would evoke such violence off the sparring mat. You definitely felt it, but you didn’t stick around long enough to confirm that with anyone else. Instead, you left Chris to berate Dean in place of the head counsellor and followed the boy in question as he huffed up the hill towards the edge of the woods.
“Hey!” You said, breathless (you were not an uphill climber). “Hey, Luke!”
He hesitated in his steps like he did earlier, but he didn’t turn around. His head twitched a little, like he wanted to look but was holding himself back, but you simply rounded him until you were face to face. The anger had long since dissolved from his expression, replaced with soft confusion.
“Hi.” You huffed, still recovering from that incline, “Are you okay? That guy’s a dick.”
“I know.” He replied, short as usual.
You licked your lips, still catching your breath, and nodded. He remained silent, looking around you like he was just waiting for you to leave. You decided to take the hint, muttering lowly, “Okay, sorry for bothering you.”
But his hand reached out, circling your wrist just as you passed him. You looked at Luke, raising your eyebrows, watching as he stammered on his words, “I, uh, you aren’t bothering me. I just…”
He let go of you and you stepped back to your precious spot. Behind him, the crowd had dissipated, Dean long gone. Chris remained, staring up at the pair of you on top of the hill. You couldn’t pinpoint his expression, but he seemed to hesitate before turning his back. You looked up at Luke.
“Why did you…come after me?”
You scoffed a laugh, “What? Anyone would’ve, it’s like…common decency.”
He twisted his expression, looking amused and devastated all at the same time, “But they didn’t.”
He was right; before you’d set off up the hill, everyone had just been watching him walk off. It seemed a little out of character, but then again, you didn’t know these people as well as you thought. Luke let out a sad chuckle, shaking his head, “Everyone’s sorta given up on me now that I’m…”
“Moody and depressed?” You finished, raising a single brow. You smiled at him, and it lifted into a grin when he smiled back, albeit only slightly. But you’d take it. “I just think that they’re a little unsure.”
“They’re scared, is what they are.” He said firmly, staring at the ground in mirth, “Their precious golden boy won’t clean up all of their messes anymore and they’re scared that they’ll have to start looking after themselves.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” You said, even if you didn’t believe it. How could you? You didn’t know these people, Luke did. “They’re just worried about you.”
He scoffed, finally moving his head up and meeting your eyes. He went to say something, presumably another quip about the campers, but stopped himself. Backtracked. Instead he said, “Aren’t you angry that you haven’t been claimed yet?”
That was a deep question. You sat on it for a couple of seconds, reeling at the sudden shift of conversation, until you finally let out a low puff of air and shrugged, “I don’t really know how I feel. Why? Should I be?”
“This camp, it’s —“ He huffed, “It helps you, sure. But it also forces you to…mould yourself into the perfect kid for — for a parent who doesn’t care enough to watch you grow up. Help you live, use their divine powers when a dragon is clawing your fucking face off!”
He’d stepped closer to you, unknowingly, that final shout making you wince a little at the volume. He stopped then, evening his breaths and stepping back with an apologetic expression. You brushed it off.
“A dragon clawed your face off?”
“Yeah.” He chuckled weakly, “Tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”
You smiled at him, shamefully admiring his face. Now that he wasn’t glaring in anger, and his face was more relaxed, you could see the whites of his eyes. His lashes, unreasonably long, and his lips that were so plush you were close to asking him if he took a trip to see Dr Miami while he was on his quest.
“Gods.” You murmured under your breath, “You’re so pretty it sorta pisses me off.”
Luke laughed then — a genuine chortle that shook his chest and made passers by glance in his direction. His grin was uncharacteristically wide and for a second, a brief moment, you saw it. Luke Castellan, the one everyone looks up to. The one they turn to in times of peril, the one they giggle and gossip about under the shade of the fir trees.
Then you knew your answer to Luke’s question. No — you weren’t angry that you hadn’t been claimed. In fact, you didn’t think you’d care even if you were so long as he was smiling at you like that.
He calmed down, catching his breath, his face relaxing back into that cool expression he’s always got on. Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you were sure he looked a little less tense than before. He nodded, waving a hand, “Alright, Sunny. Let’s go canoeing.”
“Sunny?” You asked, walking alongside him.
He clicked his tongue, glancing down at you, “If Apollo won’t claim you as a child of the sun, then I will.”
“Alright.” You smiled softly, looking forward so he wouldn’t see it and run off. You picked at your nails, “So long as I can call you JoJo.”
“Let’s watch that silly movie it’s from and I’ll decide if you can call me that.”
“Deal.”
🏷️ @katherines-imagines @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry @jennapancake @cobaltskiez @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons (comment to be added/removed!)
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Target Acquired - Rooster
Pairing: Rooster / Female! Reader
Length: 1.2k
This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only
Warnings: Discussions of Menstruation/Periods and Everything That Goes with It; Rooster (Slightly) Panicking; Amelia Being Sassy; Fluff; Flirting; Use of "You" but No Y/N; Female Reader but No Physical Description
Summary: Amelia gets her first period while Rooster is left in charge of her. He is forced to ask for help from the first woman he sees, which just so happens to be you.
Master List
When Rooster agreed to watch Amelia for Penny for a weekend so that she and Maverick could have a weekend to themselves, he thought that it was going to be simple. Amelia was fifteen. She couldn’t drive herself anywhere, but she could advocate for herself. If he left her alone for half a day, she would survive.
But, of course, Amelia had to get her period for the first time. Ever. And Penny wasn’t answering her phone. And Phoenix wasn’t either.
So, here he was, standing in the middle of Target, starting to pull his own hair out, as he tried to figure out what size of pads or tampons he should buy Amelia. He had no idea. Not a clue. His mom had given him an overview of what to expect with women on their periods, but his mind was completely blank as he edged towards a state of uncontrolled panic.
“Just get the normal ones!” Amelia yelled at Rooster over the phone, holed up in her bathroom back at the house. “I still can’t find my mom’s stuff!”
“Just tell me what size to buy!”
“The normal ones!”
“What color are the normal ones!?”
“I don’t know! Can’t you read!?” Amelia yelled back at him. Rooster sighed, forcing himself to take a breath. “Just ask someone!”
“No, I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m literally bleeding out in my bathroom right now, Rooster! Ask someone for help!”
Rooster held the phone away from his ear, which he swore was ringing from Amelia’s yelling. Looking around, Rooster paused when he saw you step into the aisle. You offered him a kind half-smile before turning to the products. Quickly grabbing a set of tampons and pads, you were about to carry on with your shopping when Rooster seized his chance.
“Excuse me, Miss?” he asked awkwardly, causing you to grow a bit defensive. After all, women assumed that the one aisle where they wouldn’t be accosted by men would be in front of the tampons. “Um . . . I need some help picking out some pads and tampons.”
“Okay,” you replied cautiously, clearly a bit confused.
“My . . . step-sister just got her period for the first time and her mom isn’t picking up and I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to buy. And I really need some help so that she doesn’t kill me when I come back with the wrong stuff.”
Your face softened at his explanation and you even chuckled a bit to yourself. Pointing at his phone, you asked, “Is she on the phone right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“Yeah, of course. Uh, her name’s Amelia.”
You smiled and brought his phone up to your ear. Introducing yourself to Amelia and offering Rooster a reassuring look, you looked at the period products in front of you.
“So, I think it’s probably best for you to start with pads,” you began, picking up two different boxes and placing them into Bradley’s basket. “I’m grabbing you a thicker pad and a panty liner. Start with the thicker pad and definitely wear it overnight. But when your starts to stop, you can switch to the panty liner just to make sure you got it all out.”
“It seems pretty heavy now.”
“The first days are usually the heaviest. It’ll get lighter as the days pass. Some women finish their periods in two or three days. But if it goes on longer than a week, you should talk to your doctor about it. Or maybe go to see a gynecologist, if you can.”
Rooster stood there, quietly making notes to himself, in case he found himself in this position again. After reassuring and answering a few more of Amelia’s questions, you grabbed a box of tampons and placed them into the basket as well.
“I’m giving you a box of light tampons. They’re the smallest ones. But don’t feel like you have to use them. I waited almost two years to use them myself. But if you want to try it out, you just squat a little, insert it, push the smaller moveable part up while you hold the bigger piece in place, and then slowly pull the plastic out. Don’t leave that in there. And don’t forget to take it out after a couple hours.”
“Thank you,” Amelia replied, causing you to smile.
“Anytime.”
You handed the phone back to Rooster, who offered you a thankful smile before he pulled the phone up to his ear.
“You okay? Do you feel better now?” he asked Amelia.
“I mean, I’m still bleeding out, but at least you’re bringing the right stuff back.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be home soon. Text me if you need anything else.”
Rooster hung up the phone before turning back to you. Sliding his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, Rooster tried to not be awkward after his request to you, a complete stranger. A complete, very cute, stranger, who was no longer staring at him like he was a freaky weirdo lurking in the feminine products aisle.
“I hope that was helpful,” you offered, causing Rooster to nod.
“Definitely. I was completely lost.”
“I could tell.”
“Right,” Rooster laughed off, rubbing the back of his neck. Slowly dropping his arm, he added, “Is there anything else that I should buy for her?”
“There’s always things that you can buy for this,” you assured him.
You led him through the aisles, placing some pain relievers and a hot water bottle in his basket. And when Rooster asked again if there was anything else that he could get for Amelia, you pulled him into the food section.
“Now, every woman is different, but when I’m on my period, I’m always craving something sweet. Chocolate is a good go-to, but honestly, I’m usually craving some kind of baked good. A cupcake or peanut butter cookies or something else entirely. Does she have anything that she usually likes to eat?”
“Peanut butter, actually, yeah,” Rooster agreed.
The two of you walked through the rest of the food section to pick out a few items before slowly making your way to the checkout aisles.
“I should pay for your stuff,” he offered, causing you to shake your head.
“No, no, it’s fine,” you insisted, holding your basket away from him. “It’s nothing.”
“Let me pay for something, at least.”
“You can buy me a coffee,” you replied, smiling softly. “After you go home and help Amelia, of course.”
You typed your phone number into Rooster’s phone and the two of you bid goodbye to each other before heading your separate ways. Not even an hour after you left the store, Rooster texted you.
Amelia told me to say thank you again for your help. She and I know that I would have been hopeless without you.
Sitting in your kitchen, you smiled to yourself as you typed back a response.
Always happy to help!
Biting your lip and wondering if the exclamation point was too aggressive, you let out a breath of relief when Rooster quickly texted you back.
Are you free tomorrow for that coffee? Amelia’s mom is coming home then, so I’ll be free.
Yeah, I’m free. Does 11 work? There’s a cute coffee shop right around the corner from Target with a nice patio in the back.
I know what place you’re talking about. I’ll see you there tomorrow at 11.
It’s a date, you typed back.
#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick#top gun: maverick#top gun#tgm#tgm fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#rooster x reader#rooster#rooster fanfic#rooster x you#bradley bradshaw fic#rooster imagine#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader
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Hey there could I request G!P professor!nat x shy!quiet!reader where reader goes to the school dance alone and feels like a loser for not having the balls to talk or join in with other people but then nat decides to keep her company because she can’t stand seeing her favorite student all pathetic just standing there like a lost puppy and then they sneak off to do “other” stuff
Favourite
Paring: fem!reader x prof!Nat
Warnings: SMUT, amab!Nat, top!Nat, bottom!reader, age gap (legal), taboo relationship, soft sex, p in v, brief oral, soft!Nat, virgin!reader, gentlewoman!Nat
!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!
A/N: I’m not dead yet and more active noe
I had always thought in college things would change for girls like me, the quiet ones, with a few friends, who you would only talk to to copy their homework. However it stayed that way or at least for me. I had found my small group of friends but I was far from well socialised in my college. But I wasn’t complaining about it either after all it left more time to study.
Most of the lessons I attended were boring except for one: Russians literature with Professors Romanoff, a tall, athletic woman, with red hair and the greenest eyes you had ever seen. You didn’t mind her talking for hours about poems and novels and what we were supposed to think of them. However you couldn’t care less about the words leaving her mouth when you’re eyes were only fixated on her lips.
Eventually more of the semester passed and soon it was time for the annual ball. Because of your low social status you didn’t even try to find a date opting on going alone instead, it wouldn’t be that bad right?
Once there you where alone, the few friends which you had didn’t bother to attend so you stood alone at the side of the large room your eyes fixated on the ground. You should just go, you thought to yourself. “Good evening, Y/N” you heard the familiar husky voice next to you. You looked up only to be greeted by your smirking professor. She looked gorgeous having picked out a matching suit to her eyes.
“Hi, Ms. Romanoff” she leaned against the wall next to me her eyes darting over my smaller body. “Where’s your date?” “I don’t have one” I answered truthfully, her expression stayed the same it was hard to read her. “And you’re friends?” I sighed she knew the answer to that already. “They didn’t attend.” She chuckled licking her lips like a predator who just found it’s helpless prey. “Poor girl, all alone and needs her professor to keep her company”
I let out a small laugh which sounded incredibly fake. Her words made my cheeks heat and I didn’t even know why. “Could be worse” I looked up in her eyes again “You’re a very pleasant conversation partner” “Am I?” She chuckled “That means a lot to me, hearing my favorite student say something like that” “I’m your favorite?” you stammered out “Trust me bunny a girl like you” Her hand trailed to my hip “You hardly get something like that every ten years. I’m very happy to have you”
Her words made my heart flutter and my head turn. I was special, Romanoff’s girl. “Do you mean that?” My voice was still a bit shaky. “Of course I do. We should go somewhere more private” I nodded her hand intertwined with mine she pulled me with her through the masses into the parking lot. Once seated in her expensive looking her hand never left my thigh before she started the car she leaned over to me our lips inches apart I tried to lean forward but her hands pushed my shoulder back against the car seat.
“Don’t do this to make me happy” She paused her eyes looking sensire “It won’t affect your grade no matter how you decide.” “I want this”
I breathed out our lips immediately finding each other. The kiss was passionate and heated until Nat pulled away to fasten my seat belt.
“I’ll drive to my apartment” She put her own seatbelt on “Is that okay with you or do you want to go to your dorm” “I’d like to join your tonight” Natasha gave you a cheeky grin at the response her plan had worked out perfectly.
Arriving at her apartment she seated you on her leather couch. She paced around her living room having two wine glasses in hand. “Do you want a glass?” I laughed I was extremely nervous but in a good way “Oh, I don’t drink but I’ll have a water instead” She just nodded accepting my preferences.
“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve met” She laughed slipping away from her wine glass. “And I’m not just saying that because of the wine.” She added she was sat next to her hand on your thigh. She had long forgotten about her crumpled up suit jacket on the ground though she normally was so precise about keeping everything organized.
“You don’t look bad either” You laughed she pulled you on her lap forcing you to but your legs on either side her crotch on yours. “Let me kiss you” she mumbled against you wet lips. You lips were pressed together so where your bodies and you could feel a bulge poking you. “Fuck you make me so hard” she breathed out on your lips making you moan out in response.
We were caught in the dance of our tongues when I felt her standing up her arms under my ass supporting my weight. I giggle and tighten my grip around her. “Let me take you to the bedroom”
She laid me out on the bed being careful with every item removed and making sure I was comfortable. She kissed everything inch of my skin paying extra attention to my sweet spots and I never felt so loved before. “Have you done that before” She breathed put against my skin.
“Never” I answer truthfully and suddenly I felt a dang of jealousy in my chest. “Is that- a problem?” My professor moved up again before kissing me “Of course not” She looked me in the eyes with her green eyes. “Will you let me be your first” She was being incredibly cheesy but Iiked that. It made me feel safe. “Yes”
She took one of my nipples in her mouth twisting and turning the other with her trained fingertips. She made me putty in her hands with each lick or flick she brought a new sound from my tongue.
My back arched which only made her increase the speed of her movements. After she seemed it to be enough foreplay she kissed her way down to my pubic bone, pressing her nose against my skin to take in the smell of my sweet arrausel. “Can I bunny?” She smirked and kissed your clit I was already wet but Nat was dying for a taste. She flicked her tongue over my now exposed bud. The pleasure was incredible better than any other toy I ever had and you tried to not lose my mind as she teased you bundle of nerves.
She pulled away shortly after ripping away my release in front of my eyes. I looked at her confused as she was already freeing herself from her boxer. She didn’t have a size to be ashamed of and her bush was well groomed too, like you would’ve suspected. She pumped herself a few times groaning until she was fully hard a little droplet of cum on the redden tip.
“Wait I’ll put a condom on” She reached for the drawer but you stopped her “I’m on the pill” Her lips formed a smirk as she positioned herself between my legs. “It’s not gonna hurt sweetheart” She reassured you kissing my neck.
She pushed inside and I making me scratch down her toned back making her whimper. Fuck her whimpers where hot. She bottomed me out looking down at where our bodies were connected she smiled up at you and you smiled back and after I nodded to her she picked up pace.
She was slow at first making me want more you could tell she being careful with you. “Faster” I moaned out making you hips buckle into her trusts. She moaned like a pornstar panting above me as she increased her speed the bed creaking. She made my back arch and my eyes squeezed shut as I released my quiet prayers for her.
“You close?” She panted and I nod “Fuck, your so tight” I grabbed on her shoulders scratching down as I came all over her shortly after she filled me up too. She pulled out the cum leaking down my legs. She climbed up my body flipping us over so I lay on her chest.
“You’re my favourite” She whispered and kissed my sweaty forehead
:)
#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff smut#black widow x female reader#natasha romanoff x you#black widow x reader#natasha x reader#natasha x you#natasha romanoff
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❥ . . jealousy, jealousy > joe goldberg
- joe’s happy you’re making friends in london, until he notices the way that stupid writer looks at you.
joe’s hand settles on your hip as soon as the door closes behind him. it’s become a habit since your early stages of relationship. he simply follows as you say your hellos and press your cheek against other girls’ faces with loud kissing noises.
from what you told him, he wasn’t really interested in meeting your friends, if anything he thought of them as one of the many reasons he clung to you a little bit tighter every morning
“y/n, you made it!” joe watches as a peppy blonde throws her arm over your shoulder, not minding how the two of you were almost tangled together.
“hi! phoebe, this is my husband, joe” the blonde brightens up (something joe thought impossible) when you present him. he only nods with a small smile and shakes her hand, despite her attempts of hugging him.
she smiles “come, come. i have to introduce someone to you”
his hand burns into your side, fragments of earlier and your poor attempt of a quickie still in your head as the two of you follow after your friend(ish) to a secluded bar. where a pale, almost your height man sat, swirling his shot of whiskey in its glass. joe recognized him immediately. it’s rhys montrose, the writer nadia had been talking to him about earlier.
“rhys! y/n, the girl i had been talking to you about and her husband joe”
“it’s my pleasure” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. joe doesn’t miss the way his eyes roam you over, throwing the cleavage of your dress a longer stare, he watches you all over, probably imagining lewd scenarios only your husband was lucky to experience.
he wants to leave then and there, but he wants to give it a chance, for you. he can’t think of another reason as to why he would sit there and gulp through this guy’s staring and his always dismissed attempts at flirting with you.
he sees a perfect window when you excuse yourself from the group, something about the powder room, which you never get to, because along the way, he manages to sneak the two of you off to one of many guest rooms.
he knows you felt it too, the way rhyse was staring and making inappropriate jokes, undermining joe and your relationship, inviting you on many scenarios in which he wasn’t included, he doesn’t need anything other than his rough lips and kisses to express what he’s feeling right now.
angry, jealous, possessive? those were just a few of the feelings coursing through him as he moans into your mouth, caving and letting your fingers tangle in his hair and steer him around like a puppy.
“please” your plead breaks him, you look so pretty like this, everytime, even if you were worse than him, kinkier, dirtier, he adored having you like this, under his frame, blushed, sweaty and with your chest racing as if you had just gone running.
“i don’t know doll, what exactly are you asking me for?” his nose nips at your cheek and so do his lips, pressing open mouthed kisses to your skin as he waits for an answer
“fuck me.” he groans when you whisper so sweetly. “please, i want you inside me”
“fucking hell” he struggles to pull away from you even slightly. “you just know i can’t resist when you ask me like that”
there’s some fumbling, but he manages to fish himself out of his pants, tucking your thin underwear to the side before he easily sinks inside you. the two of you make animalistic- guttural sounds at the feeling, and he can’t help when he says
“can’t believe that guy thinks he even has a chance” he chuckles against your jaw before nipping at it, and he just stares. at your furrowed brows, your parted lips. and he listens to your whiny noises and how needy you get for him, and he feels complete.
not as fulfilled as he feels though when he’s sure rhys has heard you, moaning his name over and over until you come.
“y/n?” there’s some incessant knocking, and a faux concerned man on the other side. “are you okay in there darling? you’ve been a while”
“y-yes. yes! im good rhys. i’ll be out in a minute, i think”
“is there anything i can do to help?” god, you wish you could see the two of you from afar. joe’s nibbling at your jaw and neck while your arms around his own keep you closer than ever, your fingers tangling in his hair as you clench your pussy around him. you can’t pretend you’re just touching up your makeup in there. you can care less if the man is waiting for a response, the way joe whispers against you both reassurance and degradations sends shocks of electricity to your poor and abused bundle of nerves.
“are you gonna come?” he chuckles “come on my dick baby, let him hear you. let him know he will never be inside you. that he will never make you feel this good. show him”
“fuck- joe. i’m so close, please”
“i know angel, i’ve got you.” almost on purpose, his hips slam deeper and faster, his thumb quickly presses back and forth on your clit and with his beard grazing against your neck it all becomes too much for you to take. and you’re soon shaking around him, biting his lip after a chain of profanities and his name that you hoped were masked by the music playing outside.
all of this, unaware of the encounter your husband was going to have just outside the door with the relentless writer who did in fact hear everything that just went down
#joe goldberg imagine#joe goldberg#joe goldberg imagines#joe goldberg x reader#joe goldberg x you#joe goldberg smut#penn badgley#penn badgley imagine#penn badgley smut#you imagines#you smut#gif from emotional-emotion
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starved man
tom blyth x f!reader : tom feels a way he shouldn't and lets those feelings get in the way of work. (angsty)
wc : 1.2k
a/n : couldn't help myself. i love this man. might write a parallel imagine of the scene in this as a billy x reader fic.
navigaton
maybe tom was wrong for feeling this way. well, he was—he knew that, but you can’t help the way you feel; that’s what tom keeps telling himself. he taps at his leg with his finger, anticipating the scene he was about to do with yn. he couldn’t wait any longer, he was ready to get going. it felt like this exciting and nerve-wracking whirlwind. like when you’re about to ask out your crush and can’t wait for their answer, but too scared to hear the answer at the same time. tom bites his lower lip, bouncing his leg. “dude,” daniel deadpans beside him. “you’re gonna burn a hole through her if you keep staring.”
tom laughs awkwardly, shaking himself out of it. “i was out of it, didn’t realize.”
“right,” daniel leans in closer to tom, keeping his tone low, “so you aren’t dying to kiss her in this scene?” tom gulps, raising a brow and eyes daniel. “who said i was?”
“no one, but its pretty obvious.” tom scoffs, rubbing his forehead, already annoyed, not with daniel but with himself. this wasn’t how these last few weeks of filming were supposed to go. yn was in for a few episodes of billy the kid, playing a character that billy would fall for, though, of course, wouldn’t get in the end. and, within just the few weeks he’d been getting to know yn, he wanted so much more from her. and, yeah, he was excited because, yeah, he was going to kiss her. this was an excuse to touch her body and feel her lips against his, no questions asked ‘cause this was for work.
“it is?” tom asks, looking over to meet daniel’s stare. “to me. i don’t know ‘bout anyone else.” he shrugs. “looks like they’re ready for you. try not to have too much fun!”
tom’s heart stutters. he shouldn’t be this excited. he can’t be. he takes his place, getting himself into it, into character, ready for the cameras. yn smiles wide at him from her spot across the set. he smiles back, he couldn’t not even if he tried. this scene wasn’t going to be the same for her as it was for him and selfishly, he hoped they’d have to redo the scene over and over again.
on cue, tom is his character. the scene is smooth sailing, he’s practiced his lines well enough with everyone to know what he is doing, but the closer he gets to the kiss; the faster he is with his words, desperate to get to where he wants to be. his heart feels loud and hammers against his chest. he really felt like a schoolboy waiting to confess his feelings. tom’s close to yn, staring directly down at her, her lips. he can’t seem to look away to save his life. she’s stopped talking, he looks up. what was his line again? he looks down at her lips again, he just needs to kiss her. “goddammit.” tom mutters. he dives for her lips. he groans the moment he feels her lips. his hands cup her face, holding her impossibly close. he needs to be as close as he can and touch her as much as he can this way. he's hungry for her, the touch of her. she’s soft and perfectly fitted against him. her hands hold his arms, steading herself as he pushes himself closer and closer. this is by far the best kiss he’s ever shared with anyone, and all be damned if he didn’t get to do it again.
“billy…” she moans against him. he stutters back, moving himself a step away, letting her go. they’re acting. she isn’t kissing tom, she’s kissing billy. “cut!”
the director makes a move over to them. “missed a few lines, tom, but that was great!” she goes on. tom’s only focused on yn. she’s not looking at him, she’s fidgeting with her skirt, glancing around the room and nodding along with the director. she’s nervous and undoubtedly startled. “alright, you two?”
“sorry?” tom shakes himself out of it, looking to meet the director’s stare.
“tom.” the director deadpans. “we’re going to do a quick take of you walking away after that kiss and we’ll move the conversation you two were supposed to have after the kiss to the next scene just before billy leaves.”
“oh, okay.”
“i know its a bit of a last minute change but so was that sudden kiss.” tom laughs with her, rubbing the back of his head. “right, sorry about that. i…forgot my lines and just went for it.” he excuses.
“don’t be sorry. i think that really added to the passion of the scene. more meaning.” tom nods, smiling. “okay, lets do it people!”
yn doesn’t look at him, avoiding his eyes. what has he done?
...
“billy—”
“don’t. i know.” tom sighs. he glances around, gulping. “don’t matter, i’m leaving anyways. best i do.” yn nods. “i’m sorry, billy.”
tom goes to mount his horse, the end scene of him riding off, but yn pulls him back. she kisses him. tom’s heart stops for a moment. her hands held his face this time, and he’d be dumb to not reach for her hips and kiss her back. she lets go all too soon, sighing, keeping her forehead pressed against his. “don’t forget me, billy.”
“i couldn’t if i tried.” he sneaks a quick peck, satisfied as all can be, and mounts his horse. the stare he gives her before riding off, he’s sure she can see the desire he has for her. maybe he really had gone crazy, but he could swear something was saying the same thing in hers.
...
the scenes with yn had finally ended, they were at the end of their filming for the day. tom was watching as yn indulged in conversation with the director. he sighs. though he felt satisfied by the kisses they’d shared, he needed more and that only fueled him further. the idea of never kissing yn again was weighing on his shoulders like a boulder. it's just a pair of lips, tom thinks. that happens to belong to the most perfect person ever. he groans, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “i’m going crazy.”
“crazy in love, maybe.” tom sits up, shooting his eyes over to daniel. “what? no.”
“it’s okay to admit you like someone, tom.”
“not when they’re taken.” tom sighs, rubbing his temple, annoyed. none of this would be so bad, but yn just had to be in a relationship, a happy one at that. tom just had to fall for her and deal with it, pretending to love hearing her talk about him so lovingly and so sweetly. that scene, kissing her, was his little chance into what a world with her was like, and by golly, did he want more. there wasn’t quite anything like the feeling of her lips on his and her moaning into him as her hands squeezed his arms to steady herself.
“tom—”
‘it doesn’t matter, i’ll get over it. plus, she’s done with this show, so i won’t be seeing her.” not like she wanted to see him. she’d been avoiding him after finishing up. she didn’t join them for drinks and she didn’t look at tom once.
he really had fucked things up.
#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth#tom blyth x you#tom blyth imagine#billy the kid smut#billy the kid imagine#billy the kid x reader#billy the kid#coriolanus x you#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow#tom blyth smut#william bonney
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ignorance is bliss ficlet II l.williamson x reader
my angry cinnamon roll gf’s 🤭
feel free to read the proper full fic that this is a spin off from here
ignorance is bliss ficlet II l.williamson x reader
"did she say she wasn't coming?" lia asked again with a frown as you shrugged hopelessly, just as clueless to your girlfriends absence from training as the rest of the team, leah now almost an hour late and not answering anyone's calls.
"no she was already up and getting ready when i left, she seemed fine?" you explained, having left before your girlfriend to get a coffee with lotte who had then driven the two of you to training, leahs unusual absence causing a pit of worry to form in the bottom of your stomach.
"oh thank god here she is hold on.” you breathed a sigh of relief as her contact flashed on your screen.
“may i please be excused quickly jonas? its leah." you asked softly, wincing as you interrupted the briefing and felt everyone’s eyes watching on as you hurried out of the room, accepting the call.
"leah where the hell are you? you're late and you're never late! in fact you are always on my case about making us late to things." you rambled, stepping outside and holding the phone to your ear.
"yeah uh, i sort of…ran into some car trouble on the way there." leah replied in a strange tone of voice making you frown. "car trouble? whats happened? are you alright?" you questioned quickly with growing concern, leaning against the wall behind you as your mind raced with all the worst case scenarios.
"well..." leah trailed off and you waited patiently for an answer but there wasn't one. "well? just spit it out lee, as long as you're safe we can fix whatever happened, a car is only something material babe." you assured her softly, feeling your chest tighten with nerves at her obvious hesitation to come clean.
"no no it wasn't an accident or anything I um, well I-" leah danced around her words and you felt your patience thinning, bouncing on the balls of your feet.
"isortoflostmylicensecauseigotdonespeedingagainandineedyoutocomeandpickmeup." your girlfriend word vomited so fast you couldn't make out a single word of what she was saying. "what? slower please lee." you pinched at the bridge of your nose, exhaling deeply.
"i sort of lost my license cause i got done speeding again and i need you to come and pick me up…please." leah repeated and your eyes widened as you finally understood, the silence on your side of the line causing leahs stomach to twist into knots.
"please don't be mad i know you're always onto me about it and i really think this is the thing i needed to learn my lesson but- hey are you laughing at me?" leah frowned as you doubled over, resting a hand on your knee as you were indeed laughing at the predicement.
"oi its not funny! i can't drive for three months now!" leah shouted and you could almost hear the stroppy pout which would be forming on the older girls lips.
"it is funny because i did in fact warn you of this time and time again and you never listened. i told you so!" you sung out with a grin, leah somewhat relieved you weren't upset with her but also not appreciating that your amusement was at her expense.
"too bad i wasn't there to flirt your way out of it huh?" you smiled smugly, rewarded with an annoyed huff and a half understood grumbled insult.
"sorry what was that? you're going to walk to training? wonderful i'll see you soon!" you teased, leah yelling out a hasty apology and practically begging you not hang up, something which was more than rare from your normally over confident girlfriend.
"please come get me! i'm stranded and it's really embarrassing, what if someone recognises me?" leah whined and you rolled your eyes that of course that was her biggest concern right now.
"why don't you just sit in the car then while you wait?" you sighed with a small smile, the silence on the other end telling you all you needed to know.
"oh leah....you didn't. not again!"
"stop leah'ing me, you sound like my mum!"
"oh i can't wait to tell your mum about this."
"don't you fucking dare!"
this was not a one off occasion. leah determined to buy the most tricked out car she could had spared no expense on the bells and whistles, though one of these had time and time again meant she’d locked her keys inside the insanely posh vehicle.
"baby i warned you when you bought that stupidly expensive car that the self locking feature would bite you in the ass."
"now is so not the time for an i told you so. just come and pick me up!"
"come pick you up..."
"right now?"
"leah!"
"sorry. please please please come pick me up gorgeous. i love you?"
"i'll get someone to drive me now. you know you could just get an uber leah."
"what did i say about leah'ing me!"
~
"there she is." you pointed out your girlfriend with a grin as katie slowed down a little, leah sat on the curb with her hoodie pulled over her head, clearly attempting to hide herself but the glaringly obvious red and blue arsenal tracksuit did her no favors.
"she looks like that kid who runs away from home gets about five minutes down the road and calls for their parents to come pick them up!" beth laughed at your girlfriends sour expression as you pulled beside her, though you'd note that to the others in the back all pointing and teasing her.
"you had to bring a crowd?" leah grumbled, standing to her feet and crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at beth and laura in the back who were pulling faces at her.
"what’s to say other than we all just had to witness the miracle for ourselves!" katie beamed as you leaned over and whispered something quickly in her ear, the irish woman nodding subtly with a smirk.
"go on then speed demon in ya hop!" katie teased, leah reaching for the door handle as she suddenly jerked the car forward and away from her, the four of you grinning as leahs jaw tightened.
“come on leah, in we get!” laura called out much like you would encourage a dog to return to its owner, which was not lost on leah who gave the younger girl a frighteningly filthy look.
"come on woman we haven't got all day you know!" beth tapped at her wrist mocking the time as once again leah reached for the door and katie moved the car forward slightly, sending the four of you into hysterics like naughty school kids at the back of the bus.
"nah you know what fuck this! i'm walking." your girlfriend fumed, kicking at the back of katies car and storming off down the road. you were quick to unbuckle yourself, jumping out and racing off after her as the girls all called out for her to get in the car.
"baby, get in the car." you grabbed her hand, looking at her with an amused smile as the taller blonde simply glared back at you wordlessly as you wrapped yourself around her in a hug, her arms remaining stoic by her side as she refused to engage in it.
"relax the face, relax the face." you cooed sarcastically and stroked at her forehead and cheeks trying to smooth away the deep frown lines as the defender smacked your hands away but you saw a hint of a smile grace her features as you stole a quick kiss and tugged her back with you towards the car.
leahs frown deepened as she was met with slow claps and she slid in the back beside laura, flipping them all off and sinking down into her seat.
"good news mccabe. as my work wife you have now been promoted and unlocked a new daily task. driving us to training!" you grinned as the irish woman rolled her eyes playfully.
"only if you caress my thigh and hold my hand like you do with blondie darlin." katie smirked at leah through the rear view mirror as you agreed, reaching out to accept her offered hand, intertwing your digits over the middle console.
"mccabe if you'd like to ever walk again i'd suggest you not touch her, or else i may have to accidentally studs up tackle you in every single drill." leah warned seriously, katie only grinning and bringing your intertwined hands up to her mouth, kissing your knuckles as you sarcastically swooned and leah huffed.
"now now don't worry, i'm sure vivs happy to share." beth teased, holding her hand up toward leah expecting her to kiss it as the blonde simply shot her a murderous look and smacked it away.
this was going to be a long three months.
#woso x reader#woso#woso fanfics#woso imagine#engwnt#woso blurbs#leah williamson#leah williamson x reader#awfc x reader#awfc
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Make It Up
Jacob comes home from filming to comfort his increasingly insecure girlfriend. 1k
───※ ·❆· ※───
Jacob had been away long enough for you to feel the impact of how alone you really were. Of course, you were glad he was off living his dream. You couldn't have been happier for him, actually.
But Jacob was always good at changing your perspective when he was around. Not that you needed anyone to tell you who to be. But Jacob always knew just what to say. He listened to you, he didn't diminish your feelings, and he was a master at getting you to see your insecurities in a different light, all the while.
But he was gone, and your mind seemed to run a little more frantically each day. As you got ready for work, all the bits about yourself you liked least stared back in the mirror. Nothing you seemed to tell yourself made much of a difference.
So you just pretended it wasn't happening at all, for a while. When he called, all you focused on how happy he sounded. You let Jacob tell you all about his wonderful time on set and the people he'd gotten to know, your own worries lost as he reminded you of good things.
And when Jacob's film wrapped up, and he and his castmates toured about chatting to press in their Sunday best, you caught bits of one of those interviews on the morning news.
Your boyfriend was absurdly attractive, and he fit right in between equally as pretty actors and directors. You'd usually drool as he lit up the screen, but this time was different. As his castmates all squished together on one big couch you couldn't help but notice how lovely the girl next to Jacob seemed. She had the perfect face, and an even better body and she looked so natural there next to him. Jacob somehow seemed even more handsome when your focus shifted back to his way.
That's who he deserved by his side, you thought. Someone just as beautiful and illuminating as Jacob himself. Not you.
While you went about your week, your insecurity seemed to be bubbling to a boiling point. When Jacob video called, you reached for a sweater before answering, in case any of his beautiful castmates were around to see the poor excuse of a girlfriend he had back home.
"One more day and we can get back to normal." Jacob sighed, lounging alone in some hotel bed, lily white sheets looking like heaven wrinkled around him.
"Yeah, normal." You shrugged. A glimmer of hope fizzed in your chest at the thought. Your insecurities had never been so intrusive before, so it felt criminal to address them at all. It wasn't Jacob's fault that everyone he worked with was some kind of supermodel. You knew you had to get yourself in check before he got back, tomorrow. Maybe once Jacob was home, he'd distract you from your own thoughts long enough for you to forget them altogether.
That's exactly what you tried to practice as you prepared to see him again.
When Jacob showed up in the front doorway at long last, the only worry you had was closing the gap between you. He dropped his luggage and lunged in for a kiss. Two Kisses. There, four, five.
"I missed you too." You joked when he pulled away to catch his breath. He laughed before pressing another quick kiss to your cheek and tugging you across the house. His luggage had been abandoned in the entryway as he mentioned something about being utterly exhausted. You followed close behind through the bedroom door, lost in the haze of how giddy you were to have his hand in yours once again.
"I kept dozing off on the plane and dreaming of finally sleeping in my own bed. But I suddenly just want to tell you everything, love." Jacob beamed as you flipped off the bedroom light, leaving a lamp to glow from the corner.
"I won't stop you. I can't wait to hear everything." You assured with a smile. Jacob looked so sleepy, with his droopy dark eyes and slouched shoulders. But his smile was radiant as he went on to tell you some story of the night he and his castmates got kicked out of a bar.
"We all had such fun. I wish you could've been there, my love." Jacob cooed, crossing the room to start getting ready for bed. He kicked his trousers off toward the hamper as he went on yammering.
"I absolutely can't wait to take you to all the premier parties and things. I'm dying to show you off."
You'd been circling in search of where you'd left your pj's when you registered what Jacob said. You stopped in your tracks, thanking the heavens that your back was to Jacob as you tried to suppress the sudden wave of insecurity.
You felt so unimpressive. No, worse. You felt horrid. And all the work you'd done to forget how badly you'd been feeling crumbled as all your self-conscious thoughts bombarded you at once.
You felt worried to be seen at all, and next to your stone-carved deity of a boyfriend no less. The worst of it was, you knew this was stupid. You knew most of your thinking was skewed, but it didn't stop you from feeling so insecure.
"Babe?" Jacob called from somewhere closer than before. You sucked in a breath, hoping an answer would effortlessly escape afterward. But all you could manage was a frustrated whimper.
"I know it's dumb... but I feel like shit." You explained turning to face Jacob. He had already been looking toward you with a furrowed brow. After you shakily admitted how you'd been feeling, a frown pulled at his lips.
"Huh? You-" He started, shifting a little closer to you. But once you'd given yourself the spotlight, you had to finish explaining yourself before you lost the courage.
"You're like... a fucking statue and you should be out with someone just as beautiful, like one of those pretty little things you fit so well with on the screen. I'm afraid I'm not good enough for you and I'm sorry this is so dumb but-"
"Oh, my love, no. No, listen to me." Jacob took a few steps to meet you in the middle, His deep dark eyes pierced into yours as he tangled both of his hands in your hair.
"You're a vision. You're so beautiful and I want you with me and near me always. I want you." Jacob stressed each word and searched your eyes, and you knew he was sincere. You half expected him to roll his eyes and say something about how sick he was of hearing you complain, like so many of your partners had in the past. But Jacob was different.
"You're too good to me." You spoke, somewhere between feeling genuinely thankful for his abundance of care and feeling completely unworthy of it.
"You're perfect. Everything about you is exceptional and divine."
Jacob softly gushed all while he took a gentle grasp of your hips to pull you to the bed he walked back towards. As he sat, you settled into his lap without missing a beat, somehow magnetically moving to be close to him.
"I'm sorry I've been away. I wish I could've spent my days telling you how much I love and adore you. I'm sorry I never say it enough anyway."
"Oh, Jacob." You cooed, searching his starry eyes. "I'm sorry I'm so difficult." You felt moved to sweep up your dramatics.
"You're not difficult. I happen to find you very easy to adore." Jacob's fingers trailed slowly up your sides while his eyes stayed happily glued on yours. He was so brilliant at making sure you felt comfortable. Content. Wanted.
"Now you're just being ridiculous." You mewled, resting your forehead against his. He couldn't possibly be so full of compliments. He must have just been trying to calm you down.
"It's true my love. You're stunning. Remember that outfit you wore to last year's family Christmas? We were late to the party because I simply couldn't handle how good you looked that night. Nearly had a heart attack. Really! Your beauty takes my breath away to the point of medical emergencies I swear it."
Okay, so maybe Jacob was just as dramatic as you.
"I wore it cause it covered up everything nicely." You rolled your eyes with a small smile at his efforts to make you feel better.
"What's underneath is even nicer, love," He whispered in a soft grit, eyes still locked on yours. You nearly lost yourself in the tender moment.
All you could do was kiss him then, not having to move much, just exchanging a long-lasting peck that made up for all your lost words.
Jacob kissed you back a little harder, but not by much. Even as things transitioned into something physical, they stayed soft. It seemed Jacob was still communicating with you, gentle taps and touches asking permission to linger longer. You responded in your own way, with sinking closer to him with contented sighs.
Your kisses stayed slow, but steadily grew deeper until you had to part to take a breath.
"I never want to be away so long ever again," Jacob quietly whined as you brought a hand to his pretty face, wondering how you got so lucky in love.
"How I've missed you." You let a grin blossom to your lips as you realized you didn't have to miss him any longer. Jacob gazed to you with darkened eyes that broke away from yours for the first time to search your face.
"Let me make it up to you, my love?" He asked, the whisper nearly caught in his throat. You quirked a hopeful brow as your hands trailed under his old T-shirt. He tossed it to the ground as you leaned in for another small kiss. Jacob took his time pushing your top away, nipping at your neck and shoulder as you let your shirt fall to the ground.
That's when he secured both strong arms around you, moving to lay you back against the pillows.
He settled on top of you and the weight brought you the encompassing comfort you'd been missing. You trailed a hand across his warm skin, delighted by the feeling. Jacob reached for the waistband of your trousers while he returned to kissing your neck, leaving burning a trail down your throat.
"I love everything about you. I feel so lucky." Jacob sighed, "I am lucky." He nodded with a look to you.
He went on saying things like that, not just to fill your head, but to drive home how dearly he actually cared for you. He seemed to take account of every bit of you, sending shivers down your spine and even scoring a breathy giggle or two. And when you tried to move on a mission to make sure he was feeling just as lovely as he'd been making you feel, he wouldn't let you.
Jacob kept a gentle hold on you and made you feel exceptionally wonderful, beautiful and admired. As his touch grew hotter and his hold grew tighter, you decided that so long as Jacob seemed to think you hung the moon, you didn't care about the stars off in the distance. He was the sun that shone light to your darkest parts, and your world was so much better off that way.
───※ ·❆· ※───
Requests are open ♡
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As a thank you.
(Vox x bar tander!Male reader)
Warnings: Violence, reader gets beaten up and they take out your eye m sorry:(
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"That, annoying fucking son of a bitch" cursed to himself Vox as he walked down the streets of hell to find a bar he could go to.
Sure he had his private bar in his flat but he needed to get away from Val and Vel.
He was just too fed up with their arguments and yelling he needed to get out.
He felt like trying a new bar tonight so he looked carefully at every one of them. When he looked into one of the last ones at the end of the road he looked behind the bar.
He liked what he saw, he saw the bartender.
He sat down on one of the bar stools and you went to him immediately.
"What can I get for you sir? You seem done with today." You commented lightly
"You guessed right, and I'll take whatever is the strongest." He answered trying to sound just a bit alluring. A one night stand with the cute bartender was just what he needed.
"A shot?" You asked back. "Thats the strongest we have"
"I'll take it, but only if you drink one with me" answer the TV back flirtatiously.
You raised your eyebrow.
"All right but only one." You answered while you filled up two very small shot glasses with a light blue liquid.
"Aren't those glasses a but too small?"
"Thats how strong it is its not advised to drink it in bigger portions." You lightly smirked at him.
"Well than, to shitty day" he raised his glass you raised yours and you both drank it.
This was only the start of the night. He kept requesting that one shot to the point where he was so drunk he was about to sell his company to your boss.
You couldn't just stand there and let him, your boss was a horrible person, 'Im way to nice to be in hell' you thought to yourself.
"Excuse me Mr.Vox someone is looking for you, they are waiting outside." You said loudly to get him out of the situation. Your boss was glaring at you with an intent to kill and you knew you'd regret this later, but Vox was nice to you and thats a very rare experience if you work as a bartender in hell.
You lead Vox outside of the bar.
"Huhh...nobody's waiting here" he said slurring his words.
"I know but you have to leave sir, I think you had enough tonight." You said as you kept glancing at the door to see if your boss would come out.
"Shut up, pretty boy I don't take orders from no one not even from someone as cute as you." He chuckled and than he fell into your arms.
"Sir? Sir wake up" but it was no use, you heard him snoring.
"Fuuuck" you couldn't just call a taxi to bring him home, every idiot would take an advantage of a drunk sleeping overlord. And you didn't have a way of reaching any of the other Vees, either.
"Shit." There was no other way you had to get him home. And of course you didn't have a car. So you just put him on your back and headed for the massive Vees tower. Thank god it was not so far. You knew your boss is not gonna be happy that you just left your shift but he was gonna beat you up for not letting Vox sell his company to him so one more punch didn't really matter.
When you arrived you walked into the lobby and to your luck (or unluck) Valentino was there giving a tantrum about where the fuck Vox was.
When he turned around and saw you his anger vanished.
"Uhhh what a handsome little toy Vox found himself, do you have a job sweetie?" He asked in his charismatic way.
"I would not make a deal with you if Lucifer himself would be forcing me to, Mr.Vox just had a bit too much tonight." You said as you placed Vox in one of the couches in the lobby.
"Have a good rest of your night sir" you said as you started to walk out.
"How interesting..." commented Val.
You were working the next day too, of course you had no such a thing as days off. After you got back last night...well all you thought your boss was going to do, he did. However he did something new. Usually he only hurts your body so that you can use your handsome face to lure people in. But this time, he was very pissed you just took away a huge opportunity so...he took away something important from you too.
You had to show up in an eye patch for work today. There was no eye underneath anyways.
Vox woke up with a murderous headache.
"Fuuuuuck I dont remember anything from last night" he said while he walked out of his room to get coffee.
Val was sitting on a couch.
"Really? Not even the cutie who took you home?"
"Huhh, who took me- oh shit the bartender?"
"He could tend to my bar." Chuckled Valentino.
"Fuck, thats...actually nice." That was a very weird thing to do.
You spilled a drink, again. It was hard to get used to only having one eye.
"Shit" you mumbled to yourself.
"(Y/N)... that better be the last drink you fucking spill understood?" Your boss growled at you.
"Yes, sir." You whispered back.
Vox walked into the bar his eyes searching only for you.
"Mr.Vox, what a pleasure to have you back." Your boss greeted him immediately.
Vox barely acknowledged him however when he spotted you at the bar, he immediately walked over.
"Had a good night sleep sir?" You asked while smiling lightly as he sat down to the bar.
"Truly lovely," he answered sarcastically. Now that he was looking at you without a fogged mind in day light, you were even more handsome than he originally remembered.
"What can I get you sir?"
"Nothing, I cant drink right the taste of vomit is still fresh in my mouth." He answered. You chuckled at that. It was a pleasant sound for Vox. He smiled a bit too. And then he realized, you didn't have an eye patch yesterday. He knew because he remembered staring at your eyes a lot yesterday.
"What happened?" Vox blurted out. Surprising even himself. Since when does he care? Since now apparently.
You gut nervous all of a sudden and glanced at your boss who was looking at the two of you suspiciously.
"N-Nothing you know how being a bartender is its not the safest job in the world."
Vox saw the glance. He also saw that your boss was glaring at you from the moment you two started talking.
"Would you excuse me for a second" he said at last and started walking over to your boss. Only to be stopped by you grabbing his hand.
"No, sir don't" you said, if you made such a huge power as Vox mad at your boss, you would loose much more than one of your eye.
"Oh sweetie, your boss is nothing" he said as he smiled at you to get you to let go, which you did, still worried.
You saw that Vox was talking to your boss. You boss started shacking his head and got really pissed, thats when Vox put his hand around your boss's neck and made him sign something.
When Vox walked over to you, you still looked worried.
"Come on, we are leaving." He said.
"What? Sir I cant."
"I bought you, sugar, I have a private bar." He smirked at you slightly.
"Just to say thanks for last night."
And to have you with him, but you don't need to know that yet.
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Toodles I hope you guys liked it😘
#male reader#hazbin x reader#hazbin x you#hazbin hotel x male reader#lgbtqia#male y/n#hazbin hotel vox#vox x reader#hazbin vox
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Stretch you out
Pairing: Gym Trainer Yeosang x gn!reader
Word count: 1.4K
Warning: Unprotected sex (make sure you are safe besties), vaginal sex, dry humping kinda??, sub reader, kinda pwp
A/N: I honest can just see Yeo being a gym trainer that you tell your friends you wanna fuck tbh lol. It's just something short and fun to give yall!
"C'mon, you can do it, a little more for me."
"Ahh~ please no more Yeo, you're gonna break me." You said between your battered moaning.
"No I'm not, you can handle it." he giggled as he watched you struggle. Two things were going on right now that caused you to struggle at this moment.
Number one, Yeosang, your unforgiving trainer decided to call you out on your excuses today. You always quit the routines he would give you mid-way saying your body felt tight and that you forgot to stretch at home. Him being a sweetheart he didn't want to overwork you and risk you pulling something so he always let you bail out, however today he offered to help stretch you out and wouldn't take no for an answer. You arrived at his gym prepared to be worked out to high hell today, thank god you got private sessions so no one else would be there to watch you suffer. At first, the stretching was pretty standard and not that bad, you actually felt your body loosening up, he then instructed you to lay on your back so he could stretch your legs, thighs, and glutes. Your heart raced a bit thinking about your sexy and buff trainer gripping your legs and ass but you refrained from thinking too much about it to keep a professional vibe. Feeling Yeosang palm your ass like a basketball made you feel hot inside and you couldn't help but let out small "Fuck"s and whimpers as he shifted your legs in various positions
The thought of him flipping you around with ease while he fucked you turned you on so much, maybe too much because you started to feel your pussy tingle as it got wetter the more he touched you. You looked down to see Yeo sweating from moving you around, the sweat made those huge biceps of his glisten and of course, he chose to wear a sleeveless Nike compression shirt today and his broad chest looked huge, you could feel the room spinning but you kept your composure. It was all swell until he gripped both your ankles and folded your legs to your shoulders.
"Ahhh, fuck." your eyes got wide at your sudden outburst.
"Feels good to be getting stretched out like this huh? See what happens when you prep properly!" He said with an eager smile, he was so sweet and oblivious he didn't realize he was just egging on your fantasy of letting your trainer fuck you good into the gym floor mats.
"Y-yeah." you said as your brain got foggy. Yeosang stretched your legs even more, bringing your ankles to your ears as he leaned his body against you.
This is where your second problem came in, while he was pressing his body against you you started to feel something else press against your core. That's when you realized, Yeosang definitely free balls in his gym clothes because his dick was hard as a pipe pressing against your already needy pussy. Seems like someone else is also enjoying this session a bit too much, but you knew Yeosang would never make a move on you, he was too polite, so now you're stuck with his unhelpful banter and hard dick.
"You're doing such a good job, just a little longer Y/N and we'll be done."
You couldn't help the sounds falling from your mouth as he praised you, you couldn't take it anymore, this was the most torturous version of edging you could think of.
"Y-yeo please, please." you said in a hoarse voice, he tried to get closer which only brushed his length more into your walls.
"What was that? I can't hear you, speak up." he said, no fucking way he doesn't know what he's doing.
"Oh my fucking God Yeo please you're going to kill me."
"You can take it, I know you can." he said, oh yeah he knew exactly what he was doing, he just needed you to give him the green light at this point, he just wanted to hear you say you needed him so he could fuck you senseless right then and there. He pushed on your legs even more, his dick sandwiching between your soaking wet walls as it pressed against your needy clit, you yelled out even more moans, you couldn't hold them back anymore.
"Please just fuck me, please, I need it so bad, please oh my god!" You yelled out, you didn't even realize you said that, your mind was only on getting fucked by him and feeling every inch of his dick inside you.
Yeosang giggled teasingly at your request.
"I thought you would never ask." He sat back on his legs as your weak legs stayed in place, Yeo was a nice guy but he was rude as fuck when it came to sex. He gripped your leggings with both hands in the crotch part and ripped it open, exposing your wet sex. He rubbed his fingers over it as he stared at your kitty like it was the most beautiful sight. He placed his two fingers over your throbbing clit and rubbed circle 8's on it, your hips bucked upward because of the sensitivity, more moans and pleads fell from your lips.
"Do you need to be stretched here too gorgeous?" He said looking up at you with the face of an angel but the horniness of a grown man.
"Yes, please! Please put your dick in me." You continued to beg as your hips bucked and moved on their own, he decided to not make you wait anymore, he pulled his shorts down a bit and let out his angry red dick, he reached for his gym bag, and pulled out a condom.
"Please no Yeo, I want to feel you inside me, I'm on birth control."
Luckily one of the things that came with being your trainer was you being very open with him and telling him everything so he knew you recently were tested and could trust you.
"So needy for her trainers dick, how long have you wanted this love?"
He said as he gripped his dick and lined it up with your entrance.
"So long Yeo, so fucking long." You said as more whiny moans came out of you.
He brushed your wet pussy with his dick to cover it with your slick then pushed his hard tip in, he slowly sank his length into you as he held both your ankles in the air, his mouth was a gape while your eyes rolled to the back of your head, already feeling the rush of your orgasm approaching. He finally bottomed out in you, leaned down, pushing your legs back to your ears, and took no time as he started to drill into your leaky cunt. The macaroni noises your needy pussy was making mixed with your desperate moans was like a porno was being made. He was relentless with how his hips moved as he continued to drill into you.
"Your so wet, you like how my dick stretches your little pussy out? It's so tight I'm surprised I can fit in so easily."
His vulgar words only egged your orgasm on even more, your brain was empty, only hearing the slapping noises being made by the raw and unfiltered sex. You were babbling nonsense while he fucked you dumb. Tears started to fall from your eyes.
"Please Yeo I'm going to cum please fuck me more."
He had a cocky grin on his face watching you get fucked into a dumb drooling, crying mess, he thrust his dick hard and deep into you, you could feel him hitting deep inside.
"Your pussy is going to be nice and stretched out when I'm done, you'll only be able to fit my dick inside of it." His endless stamina from working out was showing because his hips never stopped driving into you. You felt your peak as you screamed his name, drool running down the side of your cheeks as your orgasm took over you, your whole body shook from how powerful it was. Yeosang continued to fuck you through your high, when you finished he pulled out and sat on his knees, he pumped himself a few times then hot ropes of cum shot onto your stomach, legs, and butt, getting all over your clothes, remember when I said he was rude as hell? Thank God these were your gym clothes and you changed here.
He looked at his watch as you were stuck there from getting absolutely drilled.
"Looks like our session is up. Can't wait to see you tomorrow." He said with his cute little smile.
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏
Toji Fushiguro
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[Chapter 19] Moving Out
Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader
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“That’s all, I think.” Toji says as he loads up the last box into the moving truck. The day has finally come, Toji is finally moving out. You’ve been dreading this moment more than anything. You really can’t do anything about it, either way.
You’re still in a relationship with Toji, and you’re happy with him, you shouldn’t be upset. He’s just moving away, and he promises that he’ll see you as much as possible until you finally get married and move in together. That’s what he says at least, and of course you choose to believe it.
“Are you staying with us for the weekend? You know we’d love to have you.” Toji asks, watching as you awkwardly stand by his car. You agreed that you’d drive his car to his new house while he drives the moving truck that he rented for the day.
“I didn’t pack anything, so–” You begin to answer, but that’s not a good enough excuse for Toji. He doesn’t care how long he has to wait, he’ll wait for you.
“So, you have to go upstairs to get some stuff for the weekend. Megumi and I will wait for you, isn’t that right, bud?” Toji looks down at his little one, and Megumi nods in response. Megumi will do just about anything to have you by his side, it’s no surprise. You smile at your boys before turning on your heel to go upstairs.
You’re only staying for a night so you shouldn’t really go overboard with packing but you still do. You could last a week in Toji’s house with clean clothes, and you take your sweet time packing as well– Toji grows impatient, and he shows his annoyance when you go back outside.
“Did you go to the store too or something? Why the hell did it take so long?” Toji’s clear annoyance makes you laugh.
“I thought you wanted me to accompany you? Does waiting a couple of minutes make you change your mind?” You respond, and Toji rolls his eyes. Megumi runs to your side, and you take his hand. “Let’s go, baby. This old man is getting annoying.”
“Yeah yeah, I’ll see you two later.” Toji says, walking to the truck. You chuckle as you lead Megumi to his father’s car. You get the little boy into his booster seat (although he claims that he’s old enough to sit in the front with you), and you begin your drive to Toji’s new home. You have no idea why or how Toji trusts you enough to drive to his new house with his son nonetheless; he gave you a couple of driving lessons over the past couple of months, and during a very lucky day, you got your license. You’re still not the best driver although Toji claims that you’re a good one.
“Are you excited to live in your new home, Megumi?” You ask, your eyes going to the rearview mirror to look back at Megumi. He’s looking out the window, watching as the familiar passage turns unknown.
“Will you be with me?” He replies, and you chew on your cheek, wondering how you’ll answer that. Yes… But no. Not in the way that you are now. You won’t see Megumi everyday anymore and you won’t be next door to him so he can run to you whenever he needs something. But you’ll still be one call away, and you’ll find the fastest route to get to him whenever he needs you. And Toji too.
“I will be, Megumi. I just won’t be a door away.” You answer, and that’s good enough for Megumi since he stopped listening after you assured him that you will be with him. You’re still seeing him on weekdays since Toji is still leaving him at daycare with you. Things are changing, but it’s not a drastic change. The only main difference is that Toji won’t be next door. You’re still upset about the changes though.
“Can we listen to music?” Megumi asks, and you hum in response before turning on the radio.
Toji’s new home needs some renovations, at least that’s what you notice at first glance. But it has potentia, and without noting the defects of the exterior, it’s a beautiful home. When you get to the front, Toji is already unloading his boxes and putting them in the garage.
“Where are we?” Megumi asks, his little eyes staring at his new home.
“This is your new home, Megumi.” You inform him as you turn off the car. He tilts his little head, his hands and face pressing against the car window. He fogs up the window as he breathes on it, and you notice it when you get out of the car and open the door for him. You get him out of the car, and ask him, “Do you like it?”
“It’s big.” Is all that he really notices about the home. Toji told you that the house also has a big backyard, and you know Megumi is going to be over the moon when he notices that it’s part of his home.
“You two are so slow!” Toji yells when he finally notices you and Megumi. You can’t help but laugh as you grab Megumi’s hand and walk to the garage to join Toji. Toji crosses his arms when you’re next to him, and he clicks his tongue before shaking his head in disappointment, “I’ve been waiting here for a while.”
“But were you really?” You respond and Toji lets out a chuckle, which is your answer. He just got here as well. Toji picks up Megumi from the floor, kissing his forehead before asking,
“You want a tour of your new home, buddy?” And Megumi nods in response. Toji holds Megumi with one arm, while his free hand goes to your own, intertwining your fingers together before Toji drags you inside. Megumi has an option to decline, you don’t. Your first stop is the kitchen, and it’s extremely nice– You expected the rest of the home to be like the exterior, but at first glance, the interior is almost perfect. It’s rather colorful, with sage green cabinets and white oak floors. Toji then says, “I’ve been working on the inside myself… And with some help.”
“I love it.” You tell him, which brings a smile to his lips. He seeks for your approval more than anything, so hearing that you like the place overfills him with joy.
Toji drags you around, showing you the living room, the dining room, his bedroom, and Megumi’s bedroom which he painted Megumi’s favorite color (which Megumi still doesn’t comprehend it’s his room). Everything is bare for the moment, but you know that they’ll make it their perfect home in a matter of days. Megumi notices the big backyard from the view that the sliding glass door gives him. He runs to the door, dirtying it with his hands as he looks outside.
“Can I play there?” Megumi asks, and Toji has the biggest smile on his face because he can say yes. Megumi can do absolutely anything he wants. Well obviously not anything he wants because Toji will enforce rules, but if Toji didn’t want to enforce those rules, Megumi is free to do whatever.
“Yeah, you can.” Toji answers, opening the door to let Megumi outside. There isn’t much that Megumi can do to help, so it’s best to just let him outside to help. Toji looks at the dirty glass door, clicking his tongue, “That little rascal is already getting the house dirty.”
“He’s just really excited, Toji. You know how he is.” You tell Toji, wrapping your arms around his waist, nestling into his embrace. Toji kisses the top of your head, hugging you back with so much adoration. If it weren’t so soon in your relationship, he would ask you to move in with him.
“His excitement better not ruin my new house.” Toji says, and you chuckle. You look up at him with a smile before you press your soft lips against his. Toji feels his cheeks get hot– And fuck, he hates it but he also loves it… He’s just embarrassed that he would fold so easily for you. Toji licks his lips before clearing his throat and telling you, “There’s one room that you have yet to see.”
“Is there?” You respond, knowing damn well that you’ve been staring at the door that’s right next to Megumi’s room. You know it isn’t the bathroom since Toji gave you a thorough tour of the house. Toji grabs your hand and leads you to the final room, and you’re not exactly impressed when he opens it. Just another empty room. It’s similar to Megumi’s room, but it lacks color. You raise your brow before asking, “A guest room?”
“What do you think about a nursery?” He replies which makes your eyes go wide. You then furrow your eyebrows in confusion.
“A nursery?” You ask, and he nods in confirmation. A lot of questions run through your mind but the first words that leave your lips are, “I thought you didn’t want more kids.”
“I’ve thought about it and… The idea of having a baby with you makes me happy– Whether it’s our own or adopted or whatever. Just another member of the family… Plus, Megumi wouldn’t mind having someone to play with.” Toji tells you, and a foolish smile comes to your lips. Yeah… Toji and Megumi are your family now. And you’re so happy with that. You clear your throat before saying,
“Let’s go. You have a lot of boxes to unload.”
Toji doesn’t have a lot of furniture, which is how you find yourself sitting on the floor, watching a movie that Megumi picked up. Toji doesn’t have the money to get all necessary furniture right away since he’s saving up for other stuff that’s more important than a couch. Either way, Megumi doesn’t mind sitting on the floor in his pajamas to watch a movie, and neither do you.
You lay your head on Toji’s lap, your eyes feeling heavy as you watch the kids’ movie. Toji caresses your arm, focusing on the movie which he has taken a liking to. If it was up to him, he’d throw a few curses here and there but it’s not a bad movie– At least not compared to other stuff that Megumi has put on the TV.
“You like the movie?” Toji asks, looking down at you. You’re almost falling asleep, and it makes him chuckle. It’s not even late, you’re just so tired after helping them out (even though Toji doesn’t think that you did all that much anyway).
“Yeah… It’s good.” Your words come out slurred as your eyes shut on their own. Within minutes, you’re asleep on his lap. He looks at his son, and he’s surprised that Megumi is still wide awake, though maybe he shouldn’t be so shocked because they’re watching a movie that Megumi picked.
“Are you almost ready to go to bed, Megumi? I’m getting tired.” Toji fakes out a yawn since he’s not really tired, but he just wants to put you to bed and lay down with you. Of course Megumi knows that it isn’t his bedtime yet, so he shakes his head in response. One thing about Megumi is that he’ll refuse to go to bed until his bedtime, even when he’s halfway asleep.
“I’m not tired. It’s early.” Megumi responds, which makes Toji roll his eyes. It feels like Toji can’t assert authority without being mean to his son, which is not something that he wants to do but it’s the only way Megumi listens. But Toji has learned of the great art of bribery, and maybe it isn’t the best way to raise his son but sometimes he needs to make his life easier.
“If you go to bed now, I’ll let you have ice cream for breakfast.” Toji says, and Megumi takes a long second to think about it. That’s a tempting offer, but is he willing to turn off his movie for it? “You can finish it tomorrow morning, c’mon, let’s go to bed. Your old man is tired.”
“Fine. But you better add sprinkles!” Megumi finally agrees, and Toji will take as much as he can get. He does have to wake up earlier than Megumi to go to the store and get the ice cream and sprinkles, but he’ll get it. Toji takes the remote and turns off the screen, and Megumi pouts as he stands up.
Megumi begins to walk to Toji’s room, and Toji doesn’t have the heart to tell him that they’ll be sleeping in different rooms from now on. Well, it’s not necessary for them to separate so early. Toji doesn’t need a lot of privacy anyway, plus he loves sleeping with his baby boy. Not that he’d ever admit that, he’d just accuse Megumi of being a scaredy cat and having nightmares.
Toji picks you up and carries you to his bedroom, though you’re lightly sleeping so you’re awakened by him. He’s looking down at you, watching you open your eyes. He smiles at you– Fuck, his smile is awful but you love it. You could watch him smile all day long.
“Go back to sleep.” He tells you as he puts you down on his futon. You keep your eyes on him, for some reason not being able to look away. He’s about to walk away to get you a blanket, but your hand wraps around his ankle to stop him from walking away.
“Toji…” You begin and he looks at you with pure confusion. You really didn’t want to be the first one to say it, but you’re half-asleep, realizing how lucky you are to have him with you. Toji is the ideal man for you. “I love you, Toji.”
His eyes widen, completely shocked at your confession. It takes a minute for it to process in his mind before he kneels down beside you and begins to kiss your face. Megumi, who watches everything, has to stop his father before he kills you with all the kisses. Toji grabs your hand, giving it a light squeeze before responding, “I love you too. So so much.”
It’s a simple confession, yet his heart is overfilled with joy. He never expected to hear it again from a woman, much less from a woman he loves so dearly.
“What about me?” Megumi cries, somewhat interrupting the sweet moment, but he makes it sweeter. Toji shifts his attention to his son and attempts to hug him, but Megumi pushes him away. Megumi wasn’t talking to Toji.
“Come here, Megumi. Lay down next to me.” You pat the space next to you, and Megumi lays down beside you, allowing you to hug him. You kiss the top of his head. “I love you, my little gumi bear.”
“I love you too.” Megumi answers. You stare at the back of his head before looking at Toji, a smile on your face when you realize that he just kneels beside you in awe.
His family feels complete again.
Somewhat.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#anime#jujutsu kaisen x reader#toji fushiguro#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#daddy toji#toji zenin#jujutsu toji#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x y/n#fushiguro toji#toji x you#dilf toji#toji fic
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grass is getting greener
✯ lawn mower!jean x reader
✯ warnings: cheating (r on husband), rough, almost mind break, creampie, doggy, jean has big ego
"Daddy bought you this house?" Jean - your lawn maintenance asks you. Your first instinct is to roll your eyes, he's been helping you with the grass for a few weeks now, and he always keeps his shitty attitude.
"No, husband," you answer, wrapping yourself into a robe even deeper. It's hot as hell out, but you don't want some guy to see you in your swimming suit.
"I only talk to him on the phone. He's rarely in here?" It's your husband's fault for not being home when the workers are around. Basically, he´s never home. You always have to settle for a glass of wine by yourself or your vibrator, which is starting to break by the number of times you have used it.
"Don't assume he is a bad husband just because he isn't here." The sentence makes him laugh out loud. Do you think he might fuck you? he wanted to be good, but after you said that, he might change his behavior.
"I like your attitude," he says, looking up and down your body. You're seriously very pretty, you might want someone to fuck it out of you."
Your eyes widen at what he said. "Excuse me?" you ask him, standing up from your chair. You can't believe he would say something like that.
"I said you might want someone to fuck it out of you."
"Does he know how to fuck like that, huh?" he smacks your ass, ramming inside of you even harder. Each of his thrusts knocks the wind right out of your lungs. This guy has a talented dick for sure.
He wishes to see you from behind, he's not gonna lie, you have a pretty face, and those tits are amazing. He can see how they swing with each thrust, and Jean wants to see them up closer.
"I fucking love this pussy, look at how much you cream on my cock." he looks down at the white ring at the base of his cock. Of course, you would get this wet for him. he groans when he hears the wet sound your pussy makes now and then. It sucks him in so tightly, he might think you want him to be inside of you forever.
"how long has it been since he fucked you?" he asks you, but you're too overstimulated to answer. Your head falls on the ground, cheek pressed against the cold tiles. He isn't having any of what.
"Answer me." he grabs you by your hair, wrapping his arm around your neck to keep you up.
"8 months." You manage to choke out. He laughs at your response, his lips pressing against your neck. You scream when he bites the side of your neck playfully.
Jean knows you're seconds before cumming and seconds before he breaks you.
"Brace yourself." You are confused about what he means until he slams inside way harder than before. He lets go of your body, which falls on the floor. He presses your head into the floor as he abuses your cunt the best he can. He's chasing his orgasm too but is waiting for you to cum first.
You're so close, you can feel the burning desire rushing through your veins.
"I'm cumming." you squeak, letting all the pleasure out. He slips out of you when your body falls to the ground, shaking. It's the most powerful orgasm you have had in a while. You lay down on the floor, breathing hard as you try to recover from the mind-blowing orgasm.
"I'm not done with you," Jean says before you're yanked by your ass. He slides his cock inside of you one more time. He needs a little more, just a few thrusts. A loud moan escapes him as spurts of his cum fill your insides. Your pussy was the best one he had in a while.
"Was I too rough?" he asks you as he pulls out. You both look at the cum that leeks out of you with a smile.
"It was fine, but you almost broke me," you tell him. you both sit next to each other on the cold floor, thinking about what just happened.
"I'm Jean, you know my name already." he introduces himself, holding out his hand. You chuckle at his dorkiness, of course, you know his name.
"I'm y/n." Your hand shakes his as both of you stare at each other.
"Let's get to know each other better, y/n. Even though I have an idea of what you might like."
that fucker.
#aot x reader#aot smut#attack on titan smut#aot headcanons#attack on titan x reader#attack on titan x you#jean kirschtein imagine#jean kirschtein smut#jean kirschtein x reader#jean kirstein x reader#jean kirstein smut#jean kirstein x you
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My Son Came Home just the Other Day...
...and I just had to tell him how proud I was! My boy had become a strong young man! I'd been bragging to everyone I knew that my son, Private Joel Bishop, had made it through basic training and was on the way home to see his good old dad! I never knew being a father would bring me such joy, but here I am.
I slapped Joel on the back approvingly and discreetly wiped my eye. Things were getting too 'touchy-feely' for my taste, and we still had a whole night of celebration ahead of us.
"That means a lot, dad," he grinned as I pulled away, "but you deserve the credit. Should I grab some cold ones so we can catch up?"
I smiled, enjoying the humility and respect I had instilled in my son's character. He more than deserved the reward I had planned: dinner an expensive steakhouse and a box of premium cigars. I threw a hand on his shoulder and opened my mouth to reveal the surprise!
Instead, the words, "Son I need to introduce you to our new neighbor," came out of my mouth: definitely not what I intended.
That seemed strange. I surely hadn't meant to say that; however, when I thought about it, I did seem to remember something the neighbor had mentioned yesterday. Maybe I had promised to introduce my son to him. It must have been a good idea, if I was suggesting it. I would have to hurry though because our reservation was soon, and I couldn't wait to see the look on Joel's face when he found out what I had planned!
"Uh, sure," Joel answered, waiting for an explanation, "Who is it?"
"He's a great man!" I instantly shouted, feeling overwhelmingly defensive about the newcomer. I wasn't sure why I felt that way because I could barely even remember the guy.
Joel flinched at my sudden outburst, but I brushed it off and led him out the back door. My son followed me through the gate and into the backyard of our next door neighbor. Somehow, I knew I was only supposed to enter from the back door. My hand dug into a nearby planting pot and found a spare key. I'm not exactly sure how I knew that was there, but I shrugged it off and unlocked the door.
Joel didn't question me, but he seemed mildly annoyed. I'm glad he didn't ask what I was doing because I had no clue! My body marched on autopilot down a short hallway and parked in the middle of a living room. Our neighbor seemed to be busy napping on his couch. My cheeks flushed when I realized I had just walked in on the man sleeping.
"Excuse me sir," my voice suddenly rang out loudly, "My son Joel is back from the army."
Joel glared at me in confusion, "Dad what-"
"Shut it, kid," the man on the couch snapped awake and stretched, "Come stand quietly in front of me so I can get a good look at you."
Joel's mouth shut tight at the man's request. He marched up to our neighbor and stood at attention. There was something strangely automatic about his movements, like they were choreographed ahead of time. I suppose this is just how they learn to act in the army.
"Hmm, yes," the neighbor purred from the couch, "You're sexier than your dad described."
My jaw clenched and my fists tightened! Why the hell was this guy making those kinds of comments about my son! I had never spoken with this weirdo, and I had certainly never described my son in that way!
If this guy wasn't careful, he was going to get a fight! I would of course stand and wait like a dumb bitch until I was dismissed, but once I was, I'd let him know! For now, I'll just try and contain myself.
"Why so red-faced," he turned a haughty look to me, "You remember our conversation yesterday, right Mr. Bitch?"
Suddenly, my memory flooded back. Of course I remembered! I'd popped by our new neighbor's house to introduce myself. He had invited me in and we'd gotten talking. I had bragged about how my parenting had yielded the perfect son. Our neighbor had then launched into a long and boring lecture.
My neighbor pointed out that I'd been pronouncing my surname wrong all these years! I'm a total idiot! It's 'Bitch' not 'Bishop!' He'd also changed my plans on how to celebrate my son's homecoming.
"Of, course I remember," I gasped dumbly as it all flooded back, "Sorry, sir. As you know, I can be a bit of a dumb bitch."
"Everyone knows that, old man. Do you even remember what you have to do whenever you enter my house?" he raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, sir," I replied as the instructions came back to me, "I am to go to the bathroom, stick my head in the toilet, and flush it seven times."
"That's it! And don't forget to keep your mouth open when it flushes, you old fart" he cracked up and laughed at me.
I nodded and left my son with our new neighbor, reporting to the bathroom like I was supposed to. Sticking my face in his skid marked toilet was the worst part about coming over. How could I have forgotten something like that? Without hesitating, I dropped to the floor and dipped below the toilet water, keeping my jaw locked open like he had suggested. I blindly found the handle and flushed the first wave over my head.
"All done, sir!" I called loudly, feeling compelled to announce my achievement.
Everything above my neck has been thoroughly soaked by the swirly, and it was quickly dripping down my clothes. My favorite shirt was now drenched! I wanted badly to dry off with the towel nearby, but I somehow knew that I was supposed to leave the toilet water on me instead.
Trudging back into the living room, I tried to prevent puddles by soaking the dripping water into my clothes, but it didn't work very well.
"Joel? What are you doing, son?" I blurted when I found him on his hands and knees.
Joel gazed up at me with a bizarre look on his face. It was as if he didn't even understand what he was doing down on the floor. His eyes seemed unfocused, like they weren't really seeing what was going on around him.
Nevertheless, he glanced over his shoulder at our new neighbor. It was like he was looking for guidance. My eyes followed his and we both found ourselves looking to the stranger for what to do next.
"Go on, boy," our neighbor chided, "Tell Mr. Bitch how you feel."
"Please," I straightened up, "Just call me Bitch. We're all friends here." I didn't care if a puddle was pooling at my feet. My son clearly had something important to say to me.
"Ok, Daddy," Joel blankly answered the guy on the couch. Then he turned an empty gaze to me, "Bitch, I'm moving out of your house. I want to live with our new neighbor. I want to be his slave boy and serve him any way I can."
I felt compelled to agree. I almost told him I was happy for him, but something felt off. Something had been gnawing at the back of my head ever since my son had gotten home. This wasn't how our night was supposed to go. My son and I were supposed to be enjoying steaks and cigars right now!
I shook my head a little. Beads of water flew from my hair, and I couldn't shake how wrong I had been acting. Why had I just given myself a swirly? And why was my son making such delusional statements?
"Woah, there big guy," our creepy next door neighbor hushed, "You're thinking too hard. You remember what you like to do when you think too hard right, Bitch?"
I breathed a sigh of relief out of my chest my chest when I remembered, "Yes, sir. I like to shove your leftovers down my pants when I'm thinking to hard."
Without another thought, I strolled into the kitchen and yanked the fridge open with a numb arm. A euphoric sense of relaxation washed over me when I saw a container of leftover spaghetti. Before I knew what I was doing, my hands had popped the lid off and fished the noodles and red sauce down the inside of my dress slacks. Once the container was empty, I zipped up my pants like nothing had happened and returned to the living room.
"Feeling better, Bitch?" my neighbor asked.
My glassy eyes noticed my son crouched by the feet of our neighbor. Joel was busy cleaning the guy's shoes, and I couldn't be more happy. So what if this is what he wanted to do with his life? He could become our neighbor's sex slave for all I cared. It's not like I cared about the kid. If he really had a chance to serve a man as great as our neighbor, then who cares about serving our country!
"Yeaah..." I moaned lightly.
"You like my homemade spaghetti?" the neighbor chuckled meanly.
"Yeeaaah..." my voice came out drawn, "It feels really cold..."
"Man, you are a gross bitch, but I programmed you to fall deeper every time you humiliate yourself for me. Do you what I'm going to have you do next?"
"Nooo..."
"You're going to make your reservation at that restaurant," he looked me up and down, "And you'll go in those clothes you've soiled. Get drunk off your ass, alright Bitch? I want you to make a complete fool out of yourself."
I'd already turned to follow his orders when he turned back to my son, "I'm gonna play with little soldier boy here. Maybe I'll pass him around to my buddies so they can give him a try..."
I didn't hear what else was in store for Joel. I wasn't too bothered by my son. I'm sure he'd be able to make our neighbor happy. I was just excited to go to the steak house and start humiliating myself...
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Imagine Arlecchino being worried that her lover would be put off by her blackened hands, but then they just yank off any gloves Arlecchino might wear to hide them, and kisses her hands to assure her that they love them.
It had come to your attention that Arlecchino only wore gloves in your presence.
It was an average day, and you were at the orphanage again. The kids there liked when you went over to play with them. Today, you were reading them a story, a fairy tale that ended with the two characters falling in love. Soon enough, the children were asking non-filtered questions about if your relationship with Arlecchino was similar.
"Yes yes, Arlecchino and I are in a romantic relationship," you quickly eased their concerns, a bit embarrassed to be speaking about this.
"Is that why she smiles around you? She never does that," a child tilted their head at you.
"Well, sometimes love can make you do funny things. It brings unexpectedness into your life."
"She even dresses differently around you. That is a funny thing," another kid piped up and you looked at him curiously.
"What do you mean?"
"Father always wears gloves around you!" You raised your eyebrows, still unable to see why that was strange.
"So? She always wears gloves."
"That's not true," he shook his head. "Father never wears them around us, or the other Fatui, or around anyone else. She always wears them around you though." Your brain had a hard time processing this information, but you knew it was true since a bunch of kids wouldn't lie to you about something like this.
A lot of Fatui wore gloves, it was useful for the kind of dirty work they did, so you didn't think it was strange when Arlecchino wore gloves. But now you were incredibly confused and intrigued at why she felt the need to cover up her hands. And kind of stupid that you never noticed until now.
"Well, what do her hands look like without the gloves?" you questioned.
"Her hands are-" Before the child could finish, the familiar click-clack of heels echoed throughout the room. Immediately the children straightened up and quieted down at the sight of Arlecchino, and even your heart hammered a bit from the anticipation of the kid's answer.
"Good afternoon, Lady Arlecchino," all the kids spoke at once, showing their respect, and she simply nodded her head at them. Her attention was mainly focused on you.
"I see you've been keeping them occupied, [Name]. Thank you." You smiled at your lover. Regardless of the whole glove situation, you were still happy to see her. "Would you care to join me for a walk now? I have just a bit of spare time," she held her hand out for you to take.
"Of course, Arlecchino. I'd love to," you placed your hand on her gloved one, the mere touch of it making you wonder once again what was under the fabric.
She intertwined her fingers with you. Gloved ones. And now more than ever you wanted to hold her bare hands, no gloves getting in the way of the skin-to-skin contact. You'd have to wait until the two of you were home and alone, however.
—
Thankfully it was one of the rare days when the two of you could have the luxury of falling asleep with each other. Even hours later, your mind raced with possibilities as to what she hid under those gloves. Scars? Burns? No matter what, you'd still love her. She was so beautiful to you regardless. But it seemed that you weren't so good at hiding your emotions on your face.
"[Name], are you alright?" you nearly jumped at Arlecchino's voice, not noticing her next to you.
"Oh! Well, I-, it's nothing really-" You glanced up at her face and you already knew that she wasn't going to buy that excuse. "Okay, fine... the truth is, I think we need to... talk." At that, the Knave was on guard, immediately needing to know what troubled her beloved.
"Tell me what plagues you, and I shall have it taken care of immediately," her eyes narrowed at you, fully intent on solving whatever issue this is, even if she had to... teach someone a lesson, right now, in the middle of the night.
You took a deep breath and mentally prepared yourself. "We need to talk about us."
"Us?" The Harbinger echoed. She was not expecting that. You nodded, and you reached for her two gloved hands, holding them in front of you two.
"This is..." you were unsure of how to voice your thoughts regarding the gloves. Your fingertips danced to the cloth around her own fingers, gently grasping it and-
You had barely been able to tug the long glove a little teensy down when Arlecchino swiftly grabbed your wrist, stopping your movements.
"What are you doing?" For how serious her voice sounded, you swore you could hear it waver for a split second.
"Arlecchino, I-I know you only wear gloves around me. I don't understand why... you know you do not need to hide yourself around me, right?"
Arlecchino closed her eyes, knowing that the jig was up, and appeared to think. "You may not like what you see. You may consider it... unattractive." Your heart broke a little bit.
"Oh Arlie," you sighed. "I would never think that, not ever. No matter what your hands may look like, I can assure you that I'll love them wholly, just like I do for the rest of you." She did not respond other than her thumb slowly rubbing circles on your entrapped palm.
"Please, may I see them? As your lover, the one you said has the sole privilege of seeing every part of you?" You reminded her tenderly. She opened her eyes once again, the ones everyone found terrifying but you loved.
"As you wish." She let go of the grip on your wrist and you were free to pull it off. And you did, in one fell swoop the glove fluttered to the floor. There laid Arlecchino's completely blackened hand, adorned with darker patterns and beautifully manicured nails.
Well, you certainly weren't expecting that. Arlecchino carefully gauged your expression, looking for any signs of repulse or discomfort. For once, she was worried if she had made a mistake, if you would be put off by her hands. But she didn't need to worry, as you found her hands completely alluring.
Without hesitation, you placed a kiss on the top of her hand, making Arlecchino stiffen at the sudden affection. But you did not stop there of course. You had a lot of area left to cover. Your kisses reached up past her elbow as your hand was loosely linked with hers, fingers massaging her palm. It was unexpectedly smooth.
"Your hands are so pretty. I don't see why you would ever hide them from me," you stated honestly. The other glove on her other hand received the same treatment - yanked off and discarded, and soon a victim to your ceaseless kisses, peppered up and down her arm. Arlecchino did not move or speak while you did this, her eyes remained trained on you like a hawk, taking in your every move. Taking in every motion of your lip, drinking in the passion in your eyes as you boldly looked at her as you continued your dauntless display of affection.
After your little stunt, you pulled away for a quick breather, but Arlecchino being Arlecchino, had to regain dominance of the situation again, and she briskly caught your chin with her hands, the one you daringly made your stake on. Before you could speak, she hungrily kissed you, her free hand pushing you down on the bed. She kissed you again and again, determined to make you feel the same things she just felt, her hand running up and down your arm. By the end of it, you were panting, but you felt triumphant. It was hard to change Arlecchino's mind, but you did it anyway.
"It seems like I've successfully proved that you're hands are quite lovely to me," you mentioned breathlessly.
"It seems you have," Arlecchino agreed with you, her usually blank expression had a sliver of softness, her thumb running over your lip. "Thank you." You smiled and gently grasped her wrist.
"So, no more gloves, right?" You asked teasingly. Arlecchino sighed at your tone but a small smile adorned her face as she kissed you once more.
"No more gloves, [Name]."
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#arlecchino x reader#arlecchino genshin#arlecchino fluff#genshin arlecchino#arlecchino#arlecchino angst#fatui harbingers x reader#fatui harbingers#fatui x reader#not me rolling and squealing in my bed when i got this
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