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tonycries · 27 days

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AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! - G.S.

Synopsis. When your sugar daddy just isn’t paying attention to you, can you really be blamed for fúcking his son? Especially when his son is absolutely obsessed with you.

Pairing. Rich boy! Gojo Satoru x Sugar baby! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, jealous Satoru, créampie, dirty talk, manhandling, marking, Satoru’s dad is not really present, oral (female receiving), overstim, másturbation (male), thigh riding, cúmplay, Satoru is really really down bad and filthy for you, CEO’s son! Gojo, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 8.1k

A/N. Will proofread later, lowkey scared to post this, but I just wanted it out of my mind. And in my mind, Satoru’s dad is FINE asl so-

The first time you meet Gojo Satoru is when you’re all dolled up for his father.

Designer dress just a bit too tight, running on a few too many shots of tequila, wanting to be anywhere but at this stuffy gala. Everything was too bright - too polished.

And it really didn’t help that no matter how many scathing looks or whispers that followed you, you just had to be here - it was in your contract, after all. Because luckily for you, you just so happened to be the infamous little plaything hanging off the arm of the head of Gojo Corporations.

Well, usually. Right now your sugar daddy was too busy entertaining his business partners, leaving you off to the side, praying for something - anything - to save you from this-

“Damn if I’d come to these shitty galas a lot more often if it meant I’d get to see a beauty like you.”

You jolt out of your bored little reverie, eyes immediately snapping up to meet the tall man suddenly in front of you. When did he even get so close?

You can’t help but drink him in from head to toe, from the overpriced, slightly-disheveled suit to the tiny dimple at the end of his mischievous grin. Strangely familiar white locks fell effortlessly to curtain his eyes. Eyes that were a startling blue - the kind of blue that had your cheeks flaring and knowing exactly who this was.

Oh.

At your silence, he tilts his head with the air of someone that owns this entire venue and everything in it because, well, he did. Twinkling gaze searing into your skin as it roams appreciatively all over your body, plowing on, “Though, you look like you’re on the verge of an aneurysm around these old coots.”

You sigh, pinching your nose at the curious glances around you. Not even able to find it in yourself to put on that plastic smile anymore, “Oh y’know, just soaking up my popularity with the masses after being stranded here.”

“Oh? Here with anyone?”

“Yeah.” you blurt out, “Your father.”

You watch in amusement as Satoru’s mouth falls into a delicate oh! eyes flickering over his shades between you and the handsome man on the other end of the venue, oblivious and fully enjoying himself in the company of his secretary. A bit too much without you.

“Y’know…” he starts, shaky and sounding only half the insufferable heir he was before, “I would say that’s a hilarious version of a ‘your mom’ joke but you’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

“Mhm. Though it would make a good punchline, huh?” You huff out a laugh at the way he was suddenly less of a smooth-talking playboy and more of a lost puppy. The gears turning in his head as he processes that oh shit you were the sweet lil’ thing his dad’s been suddenly rushing off to meet straight after work. And the reason why all those old fossils here were clutching their pearls in scandal.

He just didn’t expect you to be this…gorgeous. And for the first time in forever, he’s suddenly so intrigued.

Because ah, you should’ve known better than to think that this little hiccup would deter the infamous Gojo Satoru. No, in fact that million-dollar smirk only makes its way back onto his unfairly pretty face, like he’s about to spill the juiciest gossip of the century.

“So you’re the latest armcandy my ol’ man has picked up, huh? I hafta say, dear old dad has good taste.” he muses, stepping in close enough that his expensive cologne makes your head spin. “Why don’t you and I ah-” You follow Satoru’s gaze to where he was staring at the way his father was now making a beeline through the crowd. Straight for the two of you.

“Gotta run before I get my share of the company revoked.” he flashes you a quick smile, fulling intent on saving his father’s delicate ego. But not before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “But jus’ saying,” voice a pretty little purr, “I wouldn’t ever leave you standing here so alone and gorgeous, princess.”

You can only stand there, reeling from the sheer audacity as he darts into the crowd with a wink, not caring if he stepped on a few too many overpriced coattails than necessary. Wondering whether this was some bizarre dream induced by too much tequila and not enough common sense.

“Hi, sweetheart. Investors held me up, you know how it is. Having fun, huh?” A toned arm wraps around your waist as your sugar daddy finally arrives by your side. And as he went on about his latest business branch, only two thoughts ring through your mind - 1. You were seriously reconsidering this arrangement. And 2. This was going to be interesting.

And oh was it interesting.

Because Satoru always managed to find you, wherever you were. No matter if it was another droning function or a chance meeting at the sprawling Gojo Estate, Satoru always swooped in whenever his father was too busy for you. Which, fortunately for Satoru, happened to be a lot.

Hell, he seemed to find you even when you least wanted him to. Like that time he had to drag you away mid-argument with a particularly rude one of his snobby aunts. That was not a fun family reunion.

All unabashed confidence and pretty smiles where his father was cold, cold calculation. Ready with a smart mouth to bicker with you and bright eyes that seemed to linger on you a bit too long. But you didn’t mind - why would you? Because all things considered, Satoru was a very attractive man. Sure, his father was extremely handsome, too - in a clean-cut, DILF-y way, in fact. But his son was dangerously attractive.

So much so that sometimes when he swept you away from insufferable galas to talk, some strange little part of you wished it was him that you came here with instead. Just for a second.

“So, what do you see in my father anyway? His company?” Satoru asked you one day. Draping himself over his cool office desk, so comically out of place in the stiff corporate room. Legs kicking in the air as he waits for your response.

You tear your eyes away from the way his biceps were straining so deliciously against his snug button-up to deadpan, “I mean, I am his sugar baby after all, Satoru.”

“But think about it,” he whines, batting those long lashes at you. Fully intent on driving you as dangerously close to a stroke as possible before his father finishes up an important business meeting. One that he missed - whoops. “There’s close to nothing redeemable about the man. His idea of a family bonding activity is a PowerPoint presentation on quarterly earnings.”

“Satoru.”

“And either way- I’m getting the company in a few years, would ya be my sugar baby then, princess?”

Ah, there it was.

It’s been a few weeks of knowing Satoru, and those little comments still made your head spin. Second-guessing the nature of this strange little…friendship? You didn’t even know anymore. Because yeah there might’ve been a few, stupid little lingering touches - like a trace on your hips, or your hand firmly in his as he led your (temporary) escape from another lonely gala. But those meant nothing, right?

“Nah, I’d poison you and take over the company instead.”

“Hey!”

Well, whatever, he was just your sugar daddy’s son. His sharp-mouthed, dangerously handsome son that just couldn’t seem to leave you alone. Not that you were complaining, really. Your relationship with his father was not exactly exclusive - you already knew that secretary of his was a bit suspiciously close - but that’s all he’ll ever be. Right?

Or, well, that’s what you stupidly thought.

It wasn’t until one night late in the Gojo Estate, cursing those ridiculously long hallways, that you get an inkling of exactly how wrong you were.

“Ugh, fucking rich people.” you mutter under your breath, wandering around trying to find whether the fuck the bathroom was. Because it doesn’t matter how many companies and businesses Gojo senior ran, the man still sucked at directions. You hiss, rubbing the tiny bruise on your neck - and aftercare too, clearly, even though that was in that damn contract. Something about an urgent business call with his secretary. Ugh.

After three wrong doors, a trip around the in-home planetarium (seriously, who even needed that?), and chugging a full water bottle from the third kitchen in exhaustion, you finally find yourself walking towards what hopefully looked like the bathroom.

Hand reaching for the doorknob to swing it open. Ah, this better be the one or so help you-

Now, Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. And you - hair mussed, and dazed, standing there in nothing but a large button-up, falling just below your panties - looked like a sinfully beautiful lil’ demon here to lure him into hell. And oh how gladly he’d go if it means he got to see this ethereal view more often.

“Ah! Wha- Sato-”

You don’t even know if you want to scream or not - torn between taking in the sculpted chest smushed against your face and not wanting to alert security downstairs. Reeling backward you drink in the sight before you and God how you wish you didn’t - it wasn’t too good for your heart.

Satoru’s hair was tousled, droplets of water glistening on his hair like diamonds. Skin soft and damp and smelling so delicious. Bathroom light bouncing off his rippling muscles, pecs flexing, as his strong arms reach out to steady you as you reel backwards.

Traitorously, your eyes snake across his sculpted body. Dipping below once. Twice. Cheeks flaring as a pang of disappointment hits you at the damp towel wrapped around that slutty torso. Wondering what’s underneath-

“Y’should take a picture, it lasts longer.” Satoru grins, like the shameless bastard he is. Though he wasn’t in any better state - eyes flickering between you and any sliver of exposed skin his eyes could reach.

“I should be saying the same to you.” you mutter, caught red-handed, shuffling your feet in embarrassment.

Satoru lets out a low chuckle as he pulls you closer minutely, presence practically enveloping you. “Oh, me?” he says, voice dropping to a husky murmur. Thumb tracing that little spot on your neck, “S’hard not to when y’look so appetizing.”

And you don’t even try to pull away because fuck this is Satoru and he looks so good - so warm under your fingertips, even when you jolt at the realization of what exactly he was talking about. Your hand coming up to cover that tiny mark left on your skin from not-too-long ago. A shameful little reminder that this was his son.

You grapple for some - any - sense of normalcy. Warning, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Satoru.”

He leans down impossibly, quirking an eyebrow. Both amusement and something unreadable flashing across his face. “Oh, but it’s got my father somewhere?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“Yes.”

You startle, taken aback by the blunt confession. So direct and something so Satoru. The word hands in the hair’s breadth between you two now, sending your mind reeling. And you can’t help but repeat, “Jealous?”

“Fucking yes.” There it was again.

But this time, Satoru plows on, voice barely above a whisper but ringing in the thick air. “Jealous he gets to have you all to himself but still doesn’t kiss you like you should be.”

“What do you-”

“Your lipstick.” he interrupts, swiping a thumb over your bottom lip, “Why’s it as perfect as since you came in?” And, indeed, you realize with a jolt that no you really haven’t been kissed the way you wanted - not enough to leave your make-up so sinfully ruined.

Minty breath fanning your face so dangerously now, and you barely even realize that you’re leaning into it, “If it were up to me, princess, I’d ruin that pretty lil’ lipstick of yours every chance I got.”

A delicious little shiver runs down your spine, head spinning at Satoru and his words and Satoru- And it’s all you can do to get out a shaky, “So why don’t you?”

And then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - like neither of you had the strength nor the will to stop.

Satoru tasted just like candy, such an intoxicating sweetness that had you gasping as his soft tongue licked at the seam of your lips. Intertwining with yours as he breathes you in desperately. So sloppy. Such a sinful little mix of saliva and teeth and pure need.

His chest is soft under your greedy hands, lips searing against yours, and you could feel his hands wandering across every inch of skin they could find. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again because fuck he knows that he might just not.

Long fingers dance delicately underneath that shirt to feel- oh fuck, you weren’t even wearing panties. Such a pretty lil’ slut and by God was he a goner.

Groaning into the kiss, he lets you loop your arms around his neck, hardened nipples rubbing against his abs as you tug on his damp hair. Honestly, fuck that thin shirt, Satoru thinks he might just pass out right here right now.

“S-Satoru.” you whisper against his lips, legs hiking up to grind your bare cunt against the throbbing erection straining against his towel. Already so wet from water or precum, you had absolutely no idea. You couldn’t give less of a fuck in fact, needing to see if Satoru’s cock was as pretty as the rest of him right now. Hands urgently dipping below the hem, starting to tug and-

“Hey, sweetheart. Did you find the bathroom?”

Shit. Fuck. Wonderful - perfect, in fact.

You would’ve thought Satoru burned you with how quickly you pushed him away. Cheeks burning, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Almost slipping on the tile as you try to compose yourself at a safe distance - one that wouldn’t end up with you jumping his bones again.

But all rational thoughts of that and your sugar daddy - Satoru’s father - almost go out the window once you take in the heavenly sight before you.

Satoru’s lips swollen, hair disheveled, towel hanging slightly too low off his hips. Giving you such a pretty peak of those tufts of snowy white hair at the bottom.

“W-we shouldn’t…” you trail off, as the footsteps get louder and louder. Something prickly and uncomfortable pooling in your stomach with each beat.

Luckily for you, Satoru probably catches on to how you looked like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right now. Voice low and control as he agrees, “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t.” No care in the world for his steadily approaching father as he lazily adjusts his towel, a gesture so nonchalant yet distracting.

You swallow hard as he moves to walk past you, thinking that if this just so happened to be a dream then by God was it a good one. But of course - when has Satoru ever let you have it easy?

Because he stops abruptly in his tracks, fingers only ghosting the doorknob. Immediately turning back to walk to you with two, big steps, eyes gleaming, dimple flashing. And before you even know what’s happening, his lips are on yours. Featherlight and fleeting. But so so addictive. Nipping at your bottom lip, savoring you on his tongue.

It’s over before you know it, and a pathetic little disappointed whine leaves you as he pulls away. A smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he mutters lowly into yours, “Y’look prettier like this.”

Ah, you weren’t happy to see him leave but how you loved watching him go. Bathroom light so pretty against all the dips and curves of his figure as he walked away. White hair reflecting the warm hue, muscles flexing, hips slightly swaying with such a slutty little confidence that only Satoru could have.

As you watch him disappear around the door, you almost forget the unwelcome visitor hot on your heels any second now and - wait - what was it that he’d said? “Prettier like this”?

Turning to the mirror and-

Oh. Shit.

You better have brought your make-up remover.

God, Satoru’s never ran to his room as fast as this since that time he was caught using his father’s elite golf clubs to play pool with Suguru.

Because as soon as that goddamn door is shut, he’s ripping his towel off. Letting it drop to the floor in a damp pile God-knows-where as he immediately fists his swollen cock.

With a groan, he leans against the shut door. Eyes scrunching in such sinful ecstasy as he squeezes the base, pulsing and so achingly hard for you. A warning and a reprimand. Shit, how the fuck did he get this hard just from kissing your pretty lil’ lips?

Ah, whatever, right now he doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity to think too hard about it. Smearing the precum beading at his weeping tip, wetting his palm so sloppily.

Neat little crescents searing into his skin where you’d grabbed him before, only thing on his mind - how would you do it?

Would you ease him into it? Or would you start up a hasty, desperate little pace like he was doing right now? Shallow, quick tugs on his thick cock like you wanted to milk him deliciously.

Satoru’s hand was cold on his angry, hot cock. And with how many times he’s slipped his into yours, he knew yours would feel better around him. Both hands wrapped around his cock but still not covering all of it. So soft and warm, your nails scraping gently across his throbbing veins.

“Shit. Hngh-” he breathes out, voice almost-pathetic, “J-jus’ like that, princess.”

And what would you say? Tell him to shut up and just take it? Would you whisper into his ear as you let him fuck himself into your pretty fists? “So hard n’ big all f’me?” Satoru’s knees buckle at the thought, hand speeding up. “Y’look so pretty like this, y’know.”

Slam! Palm slamming against the poor drawer beside him hard enough to make its legs tremble, desperately trying to keep himself from collapsing.

But oh his fist doesn’t stop. No, he doubts he ever will - not that strong of a man to keep himself from getting off so filthily to the image of you standing at the doorway of the bathroom. You looked so ethereal - Satoru couldn’t help but imagine how even more sinful you’d look if he was the one done with you. Shit, you wouldn’t even be able to stand if he had his way.

“F-fuck, princess. M’gonna ruin you, gonna fuck you till you don’t know anything but m’name.”

He grips tighter on the base, thumbing under his slit in a way he knows your devious little hands would do. Fucked-out little grunts leaving his swollen lips each time his fingers meet his flushed tip.

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he mutters hoarsely, letting out a low, broken little call of your name. “More. Need more, princess.” He wanted you so badly that it hurt.

What the fuck did that sleazy old man have that he didn’t? And that little bite? That would be nothing compared to what Satoru would do if he got his hands on you. Yeah, he thinks, body shuddering violently, he’d mark you up till everyone knows you’re his. Leave bites that peak out from your collar, all the way down to your pretty thighs.

“Y’belong with me pretty, could fuck you so much better.” Sweat drips from his brow, splashing onto his erratic fist. Thighs quivering, heart pounding wildly in his chest.

Satoru would almost be embarrassed by how desperate he was acting if he was in any better state of mind. Head only filled with you, and your hand and you-

And fuck for the sake of his sanity he can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel inside your pretty lil’ cunt. All he can think of is the way you’d keen so prettily, mewling out a little, “Oh s’too big.”

Would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you milk his cock? Or would he have to ram his dick into you, because shit as much as he loves that bitchy mouth, it would look so much better gasping and stuttering as he fucks you dumb.

“Oh yeah.” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Such a good lil’ slut f’me. Taking m’so well.”

God his hand was so sloppy on his dick that he didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. Just wanting to fuck you and have you do this f’him.

Ah, your plushy walls would suck him in so nicely. One hand speeds up on his cock, while the other reaches down to cradle his balls. Tugging and pulling at the same jerky rhythm they would smack your ass while he stuffs you full.

So much better than any other sugar daddy ever could. Oh how Satoru would love to mess up your pretty pussy and your lipstick. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on if he could.

And you’d be able to do nothing but gasp and whimper into his lips, cockdrunk and dazed, “Shit shit shit- Toru m’gonna - Hah- Wanna cum. Please wan’ cum-” Oh how he’d burn down this entire fucking world to hear you call him that.

“Fuck,” he curses, bucking into his fist, tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, princess.”

“Cum f’me, Toru. Fill me up with y’cum- wanna take all of it.”

And then he’s cumming.

A ragged, raw moan of your name leaving his lips. Thick, hot ropes of cum that should be painting your pussy white - but, alas, he’s spilling into his fist so shamefully. And amongst the stars behind his eyes he’s sees you - you you you-

You, fucking your cunt deeper onto his cock to take every drop of his cum. You, whispering sweet little praises as his seed gushes down your thigh, telling him that oh he’s doing so well, and he’s the best boyfriend ever and you already want more-

You, at the arm of his father.

Shit, he needs to shower. Again.

---

Ever since that little incident that night, everything changed.

At this point, you didn’t even feel that usual little bitterness whenever your sugar daddy canceled for some urgent business. And, well, it made you blush to admit but you found yourself heading over to the Gojo Estate more and more frequently, often just to catch a glimpse of Gojo - or a quick kiss in the stuffy broom closet. Whichever left you more time to run away from looming security and his father.

But that was exactly the problem.

Because no matter how thick the tension lingering in the air between you two was, nothing had gone past heated kisses and touches. Either you were brought back to reality with the possibility of being arrested for indecent exposure at those galas, or someone just had to interrupt. Seriously, with how many times Satoru has had to pay off his poor personal assistant, you’ve been wondering whether he actively seeks you two out.

And it really didn’t help that Satoru always tasted so goddamn delicious. Fingers searing on your skin, cologne heavy in the heady air, it was hard to keep your hands to yourself.

But, hey, desperate times bring devious measures.

Which is why you were here right now - sinking into the plushiest bed at the Gojo Estate, clad in your delicate light blue lingerie. One that was custom-made in this specific shade of blue. Because while your sugar daddy preferred you in red, you’re sure he wouldn’t mind you using his credit card for other ulterior motives, right?

You just hoped that Satoru would just so happen to get a peak when you sneak out to use the bathroom later. What would he say? Would he like it? Would his eyes roam over your body, fingers twiddling with the flimsy lace?

But more importantly - would it be enough to make him break? Even if just a little bit?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You’re startled out of your little whirlwind thoughts by knocking on the door. Steady, and matching your racing heart. Ah, Satoru’s father, you hastily get up to fix your hair.

“Yo, princess, are you naked or can I come in? Or can I come in when you’re naked?”

That wasn’t your sugar daddy.

Not even thinking of your current outfit anymore, you rush to throw the heavy wooden doors open to see that, yes, it really was Satoru standing at the door. All bright grins and flushed cheeks as he drinks you in. Brows raising as his eyes move down from your face once. Twice. Thrice.

Success.

“What’re you doing here, Satoru?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. Trying to hold back the smirk threatening to curl your lips at the way he gulps.

“Uh- My father’s off to some urgent b-business.” he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck. “Told me to tell you he’s sorry and wishes you the breas- best.”

Oh.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Satoru’s father has canceled on you. But it would be the first time that he’s canceled on you so conveniently enough to leave you alone with his unfairly hot son. Now, you couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste, right?

You lean slightly against the door, body ghosting Satoru’s, teasing him, “Well, when is my dear sugar daddy coming back from his business? Tell him I miss him.”

It’s a joke - and both of you probably know it. But that doesn’t stop Satoru’s brows furrowing ever-so-slightly, suddenly a different man from the flustered one he was just a few seconds ago as he mutters, “I don’t think he’ll be back tonight.”

“Aww, must be some important business.”

He clenches his jaw aggressively at that, gritting out a clipped little, “You do know that ‘business’ of his is his secretary right?”

“I know. What a shame, right? Guess I’ll just have to go home n’ wait for him then?” you mockingly sigh - God, someone give you an Oscar. Moving to close the door in Satoru’s face, only to be stopped by a large hard smacking into the doorframe - as you knew it would.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m gonna let you come out looking like that and let you go home without tearing it to shreds.”

And that’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.

The door is slamming shut before you know it, and you’re shoved against it. Satoru’s lips such a sloppy mix of teeth and spit. Hands just everywhere - cradling your cheek, teasing your nipples through your bra, running down to squeeze and grope your ass. He just couldn’t get enough of you.

Fuck twiddling with the lace, Satoru seemed well and fully intent to rip it off of you. And you’d let him. Just like he was letting you shove his overpriced button-up down his toned shoulders. Soft little rips sounding in the heady air at the urgency but neither of you could give less of a fuck.

All you could think of is the way Satoru was so pretty and muscled. Drinking in all the dips and curves of pale skin underneath your fingertips.

“Fuck, princess. Chose this color on purpose, huh?” his fingers dive under the hem of your bra, “Wanted to drive me crazy, mm?”

“Y-yes, Satoru.” you gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. “Wanted you to look at it. Got it custom-made all f’you.” words muffled as he sucks on your tongue. Satoru was always such a messy kisser, licking at the seam of your lips and intertwining his tongue with yours with no shame or shyness. A delicate trail of drool already starting at the corner of your mouth.

Ah, it was too much for him. Satoru almost thinks he could cum in his pants right now at your sinful little admission.

Which is why he pulls away to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, letting out a broken little hum of appreciation into your skin. “Thought so.”

And then your bra’s hitting the floor, tits spilling out into the cold bedroom air. But only for a split-second because Satoru’s immediately groping each and every inch of skin he can find.

“Look so fucking beautiful like this.” Rolling your swollen nipples between two fingers as he mutters - more to himself than you, “Was gonna let him see you in this slutty lil’ thing, too?” leaning down to tongue lazily little circles on one nipple. Words muffled as he wraps his lips so prettily around your tit - tugging, just grazing with his teeth, “Matching my eyes, huh? Fuckin’ gonna be the death of me shit-”

Satoru was insatiable. Wanting all of you all at the same time. And you follow his line of sight to see him locked on your dripping cunt - soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. Clenching around nothing as his pretty pink lips fall into a soft oh! at the sight.

Like a madman, he immediately drops to his knees. But you don’t think he even feels the pain as he bites down on the hem of your wet panties. Looking up at you with dazed eyes - miles away.

Breath ghosting your quivering cunt, tugging lightly with his teeth, “Next time, I’m gonna be the one buying you these.”

Then he’s pulling - tearing your drenched panties to shreds. Grinning so devilishly around it as he gets his first sight of your pretty pussy. Oh you were so perfect for him. So mouthwateringly wet.

“Shit, princess. Can’t believe you were fucking holdin’ out on me.” he muses in wonder, eyes wide at the way your sloppy pussy was glistening in the dim lighting.

“You were the one that-”

And usually, Satoru loves hearing you run your mouth, but this time he’s shutting you up by diving face-first into your dripping cunt. Cute little mewls leaving you as he presses so shamefully deep that his nose was against your throbbing clit, rubbing languidly as he licks a thick stripe up your swollen folds.

And then it was like something snapped.

Because one taste of you and Satoru’s going wild. Throwing a leg over his shoulder to lick more desperately all all over your cunt, lapping up all the juices that gush out of you. Already so addicted because shit you were so much sweeter than in his dreams.

“Ah! Hngh- please.” you mewl, as he wraps his glossy lips around your swollen clit. All you get is a feral little grunt, his jaw parted, eyes looking like he’s on cloud nine as starts to suck harshly. Filthy little squelches filling the air as Satoru rolls his tongue across your clit. “Feels, s’good, Satoru.”

But your cute little whines turn into one of disappointment as Satoru pulls away ever-so-slightly. “Call m’Toru.” he slurs.

And he doesn’t waste any more time, tongue swishing in his mouth to spit on you once. Twice. Missing ever so slightly, and splattering on your thigh. You flinch, gasping out a breathless little, “Toru!”

“Oh shit, princess. Yeah- say m’name jus’ like that” he groans, ragged and raw. The last thing out of his mouth before he’s squeezing his soft tongue into your snug cunt. Dipping into your sloppy hole in and out in and out in and-

“He ever made you feel this good?” he moans into your cunt, the vibrations making you fuck yourself deeper into his unrelenting tongue.

“W-what?”

“He ever made you feel this good? Cum so hard you see stars?”

You gasp out a pathetic little sob, “N-no. Want to- Wan’ you to make me cum, Toru. Make me cum around your tongue.”

And, well, what his girl wants - then she’s going to get. Because Satoru’s lapping at your cunt even more greedily than before.

Stretching you out, breathing you in, looking up at your cute expression through his long lashes. Already so fucked-out for him.

Nose rubbing purposefully in small circles on your clit. Fucking you with his tongue the way he wants to with his cock and he didn’t give a fuck if he suffocated in-between your thighs - he fucking loved it.

“Hngh- shit shit shit yes!” your nails are digging into Satoru’s scalp at this point. The only thing steadying yourself to prevent you from collapsing onto the ground. And you really can’t help but angle his head just right so that his tongue curls against that one spot inside your plushy walls.

Thankfully, he gets the memo. Because Satoru’s letting out a strangled little grunt at being so used by you as you drag your cunt across his pretty mouth. Body jerking into his as he hits that spot over and over-

“T-Toru- hah!” thighs quivering, Satoru’s grip bruising as he holds you up. “M’m gonna-” Your plushy walls sucking him up, thighs squeezing around his face.

“Mhm?”

“Cum! M’gonna cum- ah- fuck fuck fuck-”

He groans huskily into your cunt. Throwing his head back ever-so-slightly to let your slick slide down his throat - greedily waiting for more that was to come. “Then show me how you cum, m’girl. Cum all over my tongue.”

And then you are - all over Satoru’s pretty face. And fuck he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked prettier. Holding his head in place as you rock your hips into his waiting mouth, letting him drink you in so greedily. Clamping down on his tongue like you were trying to milk him.

And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d notice the delirious little heart eyes that Satoru was giving you, your cunt firm on his face and swollen lips letting out such pretty whines of his name. Toru Toru Toru - like a prayer as you fucking use him for your high.

Ah, he could stay like this forever, he thinks. But no, an empty house and you all wet n’ pretty for him means there’s too much more to do.

Which is why he’s pulling away, your slick decorating his lips so prettily. Smeared across the bottom half of his face and dripping onto the hardwood floor in a maddening little drip! drip! drip!

And Satoru knows, with the way you watch him so intensely, mouth parted, eyes glossy. Which is why he runs a thumb along his mouth, pooling your juices on his fingers and popping them into his mouth. One by one.

Your jaw drops a little in disbelief as Satoru licks his fingers clean, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste. Oh he was ruining you without even touching you.

“Not enough, princess.” he chuckles. “C’mon, gimme a kiss.”

And, really, how could you ever say no to that face? Because you’re pulling him to you as soon as Satoru stands to his full height. Capturing his lips in such a sloppy, filthy kiss - forcing you to taste yourself and you half-lucidly wonder whether Satoru loved the taste almost as much as you because it was so him.

Bodies so close that your dripping cunt was seeping into his unfairly tight shirt. Forming a lewd little dark patch when Satoru lifts you effortlessly to guide you to the bed. Tongue still entwining obscenely with yours as he splays you out on the soft mattress for him. Drinking in that adorable lil’ shock on your face as you bounce on the bed, so drunk off of him that you didn’t even realize he was taking you to the bed.

“Shit, y’look the prettiest like this, princess. S’a wonder m’not fucking passing out right now.” he hisses into your lips.

“Toru-” you whine, and shit the way his cock jumps at the mere sound of your voice makes you think that this will be a little trick you’re using more often. “Wan’ your cock s’bad. Wanna-”

You don’t even have the patience to finish the sentence before you’re fumbling with his belt. Something hefty and overpriced but you can’t possibly think about that right now because fuck you get the first sliver of milky skin.

Satoru’s thighs were so sculpted and thick. It made your mouth absolutely water to wonder what it would feel like to ride them to insanity.

“Y’wanna ride my thighs? Fuck princess, you really are driving me crazy.”

Shit had you said that out loud?

Ah, well, it doesn’t matter because Satoru’s pulling his boxers down - so tight with his swollen cock, a dark patch right where his weeping head was. And you almost pout at losing the opportunity to take them off but oh how you’re distracted by the sinful sight before you.

Satoru was massive - so long and flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Shit, you were going to have to get a lingerie set in this color one of these days. He was achingly hard and throbbing, springing up to smear precum all over his abs.

And before you can even react, Satoru’s pulling you to him. Manhandling your pretty self so easily to straddle one, large thigh.

“Oh- hngh, Toru.” you look up at him all doe-eyed and teary as he doesn’t even wait for you to register what’s all happening. Grip bruising on your hips as he rocks your hips so sluttily on his leg. “F-feels s’good. Ah-”

“Yeah? Y’like it? Like getting yourself off like a lil’ slut on my thigh?” he groans into your ear, low and husky with need.

You nod wildly, sloppy pussy dripping all over his thigh, seeping into his skin as you grind your hips to meet his movements. “Like it s’much- ah-”

“Mhm? Better than anything he could ever do?”

“Yes yes yes, Toru-” you sob, cheeks burning as you realize that you’re humping him like a bitch in heat - but oh judging by the carnal little glint in his eyes, he liked it. Loved it, even. Because Satoru could feel the way your swollen folds spread to grind against him, clit pulsing so maddeningly against his skin. So filthy and messy as you used him to get yourself off. “S’much better- the best-”

He just didn’t expect to feel a soft hand wrapping around his cock. Eyes flying open to see you - all glassy-eyed, and fucking yourself on his thigh - wrap a hand around his cock. Starting to move in shallow, unsteady little motions up and down his throbbing cock to get him off at the same time as you.

“Wan’ you to cum, too, Toru.”

“Oh fuck.” he grunts, letting his hips fuck up into your fist in mindless little motions. “Y’don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

And with that his fingers were digging into the skin of your hips, forcing you to hold on for dear life as he drags your dripping cunt faster and faster across his thick. Movements erratic and frenzied now.

Of course, you were not one to be out-done.

Satoru’s precum spilling down your hand, your wrist now aching and wet, becoming so, so sloppy trying to get both yourselves off. But you still tighten your fist around his pulsing cock, desperately flying up and down his length. Pulling in quick, jerky motions to milk him for all he’s worth again and again and-

“You’re so oh- good f’me, princess.” he hums. “Your hngh- hands are so p-pretty wrapped around my cock. So perfect for me.” Bucking his hips wildly to meet your hand now, fucking your fist with no shame. Pulling you harsher on his thigh. “S’such a shame you had to hah fuck- meet my father first. I’d have been so much better.”

“Toru!” you squeal as one hand moves deftly from your hips to draw quick, hasty little circles on your throbbing clit. The friction from his thigh and fingers too much to handle.

“I’d make you happier.” Your body is shaking now, hands messy and trembling around his swollen cock. “I’d make you laugh more and give you all m’time.” You can’t even look at him at this point, eyes scrunched close in ecstasy as Satoru whispers these maddening little phrases into your open mouth.

“I’d make you cum harder.”

Oh and then you are - tears in your eyes, body convulsing into his as you cum. And of course he’s smirking smugly as he watches you ride your high out on his thigh, brows furrowed and bottom lip bitten in concentration as he holds off cumming. Not now. Not yet.

“So, better than him or not?”

But shit was it hard.

Especially when you raise your pretty, barely-lucid eyes to meet his, whimpering out a soft little, “I don’ know yet, Toru. Gonna hafta stuff me full of your cock if you wanna know.”

And perhaps for the first time since you walked in on him after the shower that night, the great Gojo Satoru is taken aback. Eyes widening in surprise, kiss-bitten lips falling into a soft oh! of disbelief. But not for long - never for long - because a devilish little grin breaks out across his face immediately afterwards.

“Shit, y’really are perfect f’me, princess.”

With a low growl, Satoru is easily pulling your body - limp and boneless in his hands - to straddle his toned hips.

You let out a yelp at the feeling of his fat tip just kissing your swollen folds, dragging teasingly along them, collecting the slick beading out of your sloppy cunt. Back and forth-

“Who’s got you feeling this way?”

“You, Toru.”

And then he’s pushing in, swollen cock bullying into your snug pussy. Thumbs drawing steady little circles on your hips - yes to reassure you but also to fight off that feral little part of himself that just wants to stuff your pretty lil’ pussy full until his heavy balls smack your ass. Not even waiting for you to adjust.

But no. No, it was so much better when you were the one desperately trying to suck up his cock. Gasping and moaning out strangled little whimpers of his name as you sink yourself down on his throbbing dick. Inch by fucking inch.

“S’too big- Hngh! I-is it even halfway in?” you whimper out, and Satoru could almost laugh humorlessly as he tilts his head to glance downwards and shit- he was barely a quarter in.

“No.”

“F-fuck” cute little tears streaking down your face now, thighs trembling, “Toru, I-I don’t think I can-”

“You can. And you will.” Fucking up into you in short, rapid little jabs to squeeze himself deeper into your tight pussy. Shit, it was such a squeeze, you were milking the ever-loving soul out of him. And it only made him impossibly harder inside you, making you whine and grind down - torn between chasing the feeling of being so deliciously full and the sheer pressure. “Shit, love when your pussy’s sucking me up so good.”

One hand is on your hip, sliding you farther and farther down his cock, the other drawing urgent, quick patterns on your clit. Not even circles anymore because shit Satoru doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity for that. Throbbing veins rubbing so sinfully against that one spot in your dripping cunt, splitting you apart to the same rhythm as the pulsing.

And as soon as your ass meets his heavy balls - already so wet with precum and slick - Satoru doesn’t even know if he’s on planet Earth anymore. Mind spinning, he doesn’t waste any time at all.

“Fuck yes.” Satoru hisses, throwing his head back. “Fucking finally.” He pulls his hips back, far enough that his angry, red tip is just kissing your sloppy entrance, surging forward, forward, forward- “Y’don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this, princess. Needed this s’bad, so so bad you don’t understand. Shit.”

And, hey, his girl deserved to be fucked dumb, right?

“Needed this ever since I saw you at that goddamn gala.” he whispers into your lips, ragged and so fucked-out. Each word punctuated by a harsh, heavy thrust. Ones that have you keening and grasping Satoru’s broad back for support. Nails raking down his shoulders as his pace gets faster. More purposeful.

And you can do nothing but take it, barely even able to form any coherent sentences. So prettily sat on Satoru’s lap as he fucks into you, babbling sweet little nonsenses made for your ears only. “Ever since I saw that murderous little glare you threw at those snobby guests.”

His balls smacking against your ass over and over. A quick, steady little tempo that you were losing your mind to. “Ever since you let me take your hand and drag you away to that secret bar to take shots instead of champagne.”

You don’t know whether you’re even crying at this point - all you know is that your cheeks are wet and your voice is broken as your let out a little, “F-fuck, Satoru- but your fa-”

“Fuck that.” he whines, and you could almost laugh at the adorable pout that makes its way onto his face. And at that you can feel him jolt so deliciously, head snapping up to meet yours. “I’m the better one.”

And as if he’s trying to prove it to your cunt, he’s drilling into you faster. Harder. Hips burning now as he fucks you like some animal. Hitting that sweet spot over and over. “I’m the one with the personality and the looks.” Long fingers almost a blur on your clit as he matches his place. Cock hot, and throbbing inside you.

“I’m the heir, I get the company, too, if that’s what you like.” He’s bouncing you on his cock animalistically now. Hungry gaze taking in the way you’re sucking him up so well. “And I’m funnier one, I’m the one that should be by your side.”

You see stars behind your eyes at both the pleasure and sheer overstimulation as Satoru starts fucking your cunt as best he could without fucking breaking you - but, honestly, he didn’t give a shit if you cried. He just wanted to stuff you full and have you cum harder than you ever have in your life.

“Fuck- fuck yes m’gonna cum Toru- hngh.” You pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of your neck. “M-make ah! Make me cum, fill me up please, Toru.”

You feel him shudder inside you, balls squeezing so painfully. Hips sloppy and absolutely soaked with precum and slick. “Sh-shit, you’re not too good for m’heart. Ngh, f-fuck- I should be the one to make you cum. Over and over until you don’t know what it feels like to not.”

“Toru!” your eyes fly open, “Yes yes yes- it’s you. Only you-”

Oh, like something snapped then Satoru’s surging forward to bite down on the crook of your neck. Hard. You’d almost think he was out to draw blood. And then with a low groan, and one, harsh little thrust, Satoru’s cumming and cumming inside your pretty pussy. And you are too - back arching as you milk his cock through his high.

Fingers digging into your skin as he holds your hips to his, letting your cunt be filled up so sloppily. Pumping thick, hot ropes of seed that dribbled out of you each time he pumped his hips into yours. Fucking it deeper and deeper inside you.

And then you’re both collapsing, the exhaustion suddenly hitting the both of you as Satoru moves you both to lay on the mattress. Fuck, Satoru watches in wonder as his cum gushes out of you and forms a wet little pool on the expensive sheets as he starts to pull out. One round might just not be enough.

Yet not yet - he can feel his eyes drooping, muscles aching as he pulls your sticky body closer to his. And Satoru knows he should get up and wipe you both down. But right now, he’s too drunk off the heat of your body and that angry little bite on your neck. Distracted by the cute lil’ expression on your face, so tired and thoroughly fucked out. Fingers playing with his hair, looking at him with an expression so fond - just like in his dreams.

Nothing more is said. And all is quiet in your strange little heaven.

That is, until - “So, princess. Wouldn’t ya wanna be an heiress instead of a sugar baby?”

A/N. How we feeling???

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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impeakcharacterdesign · 6 months

Text

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

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shawtuzi · 8 months

Text

HIDE N’ SEEK FT. GOJO SATORU

summary- you and your boyfriend decide to play a little game of hide and seek at a halloween party

content warnings include- modern au, a little plot but mostly smut lmao, oral m!receiving, throat fucking, shoe humping, fingering, a little groping from gojo, sorta needy!gojo but he’s also pretty mean, unprotected sex, rough sex, tongue sucking bc i’m obsessed w it rn, squirting, creampie, geto is a perv, rushed ending, not proofread /// wc: 3.1k

a/n- hi!!! i’m back kinda from my hiatus so pls enjoy this bc idk when the next time i post will be lmao

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

gojo <3: i see you.

your heart rate began to pick up as you read the ominous text from your boyfriend. your eyes looked in every direction hoping to see someone in a ghost face mask on their phone, but unfortunately no such luck.

“why did i agree to do this . . . so stupid,” you grumbled to yourself as you shoved your phone in the back pocket of your sexy nurse costume. to add a little context you and your darling boyfriend, gojo satoru, thought it would be fun to play a little game of hide and seek at the costume party/bonfire one of his friends was throwing. you hide he seeks. the only catch was neither of you could have your location on and you weren’t allowed to tell anyone about the game. all you had to do was make sure gojo didn’t “tag” you before midnight. simple right? not.

you had thought nothing of it when he said he was going to be ghostface come to find out more than half the people at the party were dressed as the masked killer. it was easy to spot you of course—with your skin tight red and white dress and red stockings but trying to decipher which one of these people were gojo was simply impossible.

gojo was standing a few feet away from you, a sinister smile on his lips. he could see how frustrated you were becoming and boy was it a cute sight to see. your brows were furrowed and your red, glossed up lips were pulled into an adorable pout. you had the slightest tinge of fear in your eyes—between that and your costume he was becoming more riled up as the minutes ticked by.

you glanced at your phone—

11:42 PM

only eighteen more minutes and you were golden! you glanced at the part of the woods where it was dark and unoccupied with any party goers, without a second thought began to walk over to finish up the rest of the time. little did you know gojo was trailing behind you, quietly giggling at how silly you were for making this so easy for him.

“s’freezing out here,” your hands rubbed up and down your arms that were now covered in goosebumps. the only sounds that could be heard was the bass of the music from the party and your feet crunching against the dead leaves and twigs on the ground along with—another pair of footsteps???

you whipped around and were met with nothing but the party goers in the distance. you knew it was just a fun little game but you couldn’t help the feeling of dread that overcame you. you had half a mind to text gojo and call off the game but with only ten minutes left you decided to stick it out.

after a minute your phone buzzed in your pocket.

gojo <3- found you :)

“wha-?” all a sudden your front was pushed into a tree, you felt someone’s weight press against you along with something plastic poking against your throat. “i found youuu,” gojo giggled, pressing the plastic knife more into your neck. you pushed your backside into his hard on making him groan right into your ear. “no fair ‘toru…couldn’t find you anywhere with all those people wearing the same costume,” you whined, slick beginning to stain your lacy white panties.

gojo hummed and without a second thought shoved his free glove covered hand into your panties, cupping your sensitive pussy. “c’mon baby you know i don’t like to play fair let’s not act dumb hm?” you couldn’t see his face but you knew just from the tone of his voice he was grinning from ear to ear. gojo used his middle finger to rub at your clit, giving you minor relief while he humped your ass. you both stayed like that for a moment before he began to grow bored.

“suck my dick,” was all he said, removing his hand from your panties much to your dismay. “but—but ‘toru—” you were cut off by gojo squishing your cheeks together roughly. he pushed you down by your shoulders, not caring that the twigs were scraping and poking against your soft skin. (don’t worry he’ll bandage you up later if need be <3)

“now if you recall from earlier..” be began to unbuckle his belt, “we agreed that whoever won got to do whatever they wanted with the loser right?” he waited for you to nod your head before continuing. he slowly unzipped his pants, pulling them and his briefs halfway down his toned thighs. “and who’s the winner?” he giggled, tracing his almost painfully hard dick against your lips. you darted your tongue out to get just a little taste of him, making satoru visibly shudder. “you, you’re the winner,” you mumbled, setting your hands in your lap.

gojo cradled your face his hands, fighting the overwhelming urge to rip off the ghostface mask and kiss you till you were breathless. “don’t look so sad babydoll, i’m about to fuck your throat and your little pussy so good let’s look alive yeah?” he gave your cheek a rough couple of pats. he brought his index and middle finger to your lips, “open your mouth.” you parted your lips and with little to no warning gojo shoved the digits down your throat, impressed that you had kept your gags to a minimum. he rubbed your saliva around the length of his dick and gave himself a few quick strokes before pushing the tip against your lips.

you wrapped your lips around his dick and gojo’s hand immediately found purchase on the back of your head. “yeah . . . jus’ like—fuck, l-like that,” although he was putting on a tough façade for the sake of the situation it was fading away quicker than he had anticipated. you were just so good with your mouth :(

you didn’t even care that you lost, now too enamored in the pretty sounds that were slipping past gojo’s lips. and you both certainly didn’t care that anyone could possibly catch you in the act. “i need to record this shit goddamn,” with shaky hands gojo held up his phone and started to record you, quietly apologizing for the sudden flash of light in your face. you played it out a little for the camera knowing gojo was definitely going to use this vid for times when he’s by himself. you wrapped both of your hands around his dick and worked quick pumps around the tip while your other hand moved slowly up and down the base.

satoru felt his knees buckle a little when you started sucking on his balls, nearly dropping his phone in the process. “you’re s-so fuckin’ hot, so hot n’ a-all mine yeah? please say it,” he didn’t give the slightest fuck how pathetic he sounded. all needed in this moment was for you to tell him his dick belonged to you and you only and vice versa. “yes toru all yours,” you hummed leaving kisses around the base of his dick. that was all he needed to hear before he tossed his phone to the side and began to brutally fuck your poor little throat.

each time your nose pressed against his pelvis from deep throating him it just gave him more incentive to put a fat rock on your finger and never let you go. your dress had ridden up and without even thinking gojo pressed the top of his shoe against your cunt making your hips jerk forward. “hump it, hump my fuckin’ shoe and cum from it,” his ‘demand’ was shaky and breathless but nonetheless you listened to your boyfriend and started humping his shoe.

between gojo still ruthlessly fucking your throat and the laces of his shoe rubbing deliciously against your clit you were overstimulated beyond belief—and it felt incredible. he loved when he could turn your brain into a pile of mush and you enjoyed it just as much. after holding your head firmly against his pelvic area for god knows how long gojo removed your mouth from his dick, finally letting you get some air. you didn’t know if it was alcohol, the blunt you took a few hits of, or just horniness in its purest form but you were feeling insatiable.

you wrapped your arms around his thick thigh and planted your knees firmly into the ground before moving your hips with quickness. gojo was surprised at your actions, his dick visibly twitching at you getting off on his fucking shoe of all things. “i’m—i’m close, can feel it toru i’m—o-oh my!” a sharp gasp left your lips when gojo began tapping his foot just the slightest. “jerk me off n’ let’s cum together,” you didn’t need to be told twice as you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick, suckling on the tip as well to bring him even closer to his peak (and to avoid getting cum in your face/hair heh).

you both came in unison a chorus of moans and groans leaving both of your mouths. “that—that was good, you’re so good y/n c’mere,” gojo was quick to pull you to your feet and pushed your back right against the tree that was shielding you both from any potential spectators. “i wanna kiss you so bad,” he spoke softly, cupping and massaging your breasts over your thin dress. “but i really wanna fuck you with this stupid mask on,” gojo gripped your plush thighs and lifted you up with ease, you weren’t even the littlest but surprised when his impatient ass practically ripped your panties in half trying to get them off.

“put it in for me,” gojo muttered, blindly shoving your tattered panties in his back pocket. you complied whispering out a little ‘anything for you toru’ before slowly swiping his sensitive tip between your pillowy soft folds. just as you were about to slide him in you heard voices and footsteps that sounded like they were getting closer and closer. “w-wait someone’s coming!” you whisper-shouted but that didn’t stop gojo from pushing his dick into you with one swift thrust. a broken moan emerged from your throat and you were quick your cover your mouth with both hands.

“put your fuckin’ hands down no one’s gonna see us,” gojo hissed, his toes curling from how tight and hot you felt. you hastily removed your hands making gojo smile behind the mask. “they might not s-see but they’ll—hah! hear us toruuu,” you whined burying your face in his neck.

gojo made sure your legs were securely wrapped around his waist before yanking the ghostface mask off, he pressed his lips against yours without missing a beat. “guess i’ll just have to keep kissin’ ya to make sure you don’t make to much noise yeah?”

“yeah . . . . you’re right.”

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“do—do you guys *hiccup* here that?” a drunk, poor unknowing geto slurred out, his brows furrowing at the sound of grunts coming from the darker part of the woods. of course no one responded, too invested in literally anything else besides geto’s drunk ramblings—plus his jason mask muffled anything he had to say.

geto pushed himself up from the log he was sitting on, nearly falling over in process. “guess i’ll go look myself…dickheads,” he muttered to himself, making his way over to the suspicious noises. he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a particularly loud groan and that’s when it started to click. “holy shit . . . h-holy sh—”

“satoruuu!”

if geto was in his right state of mind he would’ve turned around with a quickness and forget this ever happened—but he’s not. his feet stayed planted, not daring move an inch closer. he hadn’t even realized be was starting to palm himself over his pants—already half hard. he could feel his heart in his throat as he took one step forward . . . and then another . . . anddd another.

he stopped once he could clearly hear the schlick schlick schlick noise of gojo pounding mercilessly into your poor pussy. he couldn’t see much but he could hear everything. he could hear your cute little pants and whines as you tried to poorly keep quiet, he could hear gojo muttering what must have been dirty promises into your ear, but in his opinion the best thing he heard was how sloppily you and gojo were kissing.

anytime your moans were becoming louder and more high pitched gojo would smash his lips into yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth without warning. gojo sucked your tongue into his mouth, a groan rumbling in his chest when he felt you tighten around him. “you taste like alcohol . . . you been drinking tonight love? is t-that why you’re being so—hah! fuckin’ loud? hm?” his ring and middle finger began toying with your clit and your lips started to tremble. hot, salty tears began to run down your cheeks making gojo giggle. “you’re s’cute when you cry, please cry more for me,” he cooed licking at the never ending stream of tears flowing from soon to be bloodshot eyes.

“you’re—you’re such a *sniffle* p-perv ‘toru,” you whined, tangling your fingers in his snow white locks. when you have a particularly harsh tug gojo’s knees buckled the tiniest bit, nearly making him lose his balance. “i see you’re feeling pretty mean huh? lets fix that . . . only thing i need you to feel is numb.” gojo removed his fingers from your clit and without warning shoved the digits between your lips. man oh man did you wish he would’ve taken those stupid gloves off, what you really needed in this moment was the feeling of gojo’s soft fingertips prodding at the back of your throat.

gojo slowed the pace of his thrusts, more focused on fucking your throat with his fingers. once he had his fix he removed his fingers from your mouth, smearing any excess saliva on your lips and chin. he slowly pulled his dick out, the moonlight mixed with the dim light from the bonfire making him glisten with your slick.

“n-no! no no don’t do that here someone will definitely hear me ‘toru,” you pouted, knowing good and well what gojo’s intentions were. gojo hummed as he rubbed his fingers between your soaked folds, pretending to to thinking about the consequences of his actions before giggling once more. “oh well!” he smiled, inserting his fingers into your pussy, immediately finding that spot that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“god do you hear how wet you are? such a slutty fuckin’ pussy goddamn,” gojo growled, adding his thumb to the mix by rubbing your almost painfully sensitive clit. you didn’t know how the fuck he was holding you so steady with one arm but you couldn’t even bother to care, too focused on your upcoming orgasm. “p-please . . . please add ‘nother finger ‘toru i need it,” you gasped loudly, back arching against the tree when you felt gojo begin to suck at your breasts over the thin material of your dress. gojo added another finger, increasing his pace until he felt your legs begin to shake.

he brought his lips close to your ear, nibbling and sucking at the lobe. “you’re so lucky we have to walk in front of everyone once we’re done or i would’ve torn this dress to pieces,” his words had your toes curling, and your eyes rolling back for the umpteenth time as your pussy squeezed around his fingers.

while you were quickly chasing your peak geto was trying his absolute hardest not to reach his just yet. his pants were pulled down just enough to let his aching dick out and he wasted no time stroking himself to your pretty moans.

it was no secret to the three of you that geto had found you attractive—shit with the way gojo boasts about your guys’ sex life how could he not be curious??? yes curiosity. that’s all that this was. once he got off he would walk away and never think or speak of it ever. but he couldn’t help but think of the next time he sees you walking around with a limp and accidentally starts to wonder what positions gojo could’ve possible put you in . . . or wonder how brutally he had fucked your throat when he hears how hoarse your voice sounds.

his thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched moan that was quickly cut off by what he assumed was gojo’s lips on yours. he heard gojo say in a teasing tone ‘you tryin’ to baptize me over here?’ and he nearly cummed imagining your fucked out face and trembling legs.

a spurt of cum landed on your thigh and gojo tsked, shaking his head. “that won’t do, gotta be inside you now so i can finish inside,” he hummed, realigning his dick with your entrance. he pushed in with one swift thrust and that’s when your finally felt your brain turn into a muddled pile of nothing but lust and want. although it was dark gojo could still see the dazed look in your eyes and it brought a blissed out smile to his lips, which were now stained red from your lip gloss.

“c’mon baby talk to me, how do you feel?” gojo purred, pressing his forehead against yours. your words kept getting caught in your throat and all you could mutter out was a pathetic ‘feels s’gooood’. gojo could slowly feel himself begin to crumble, mumbling out incoherent sentences along with you. “i know baby i—shit, i know. feel so good ‘round me, so perfect you’re so perfect gimme a kiss,” he smushed his lips against yours with a clash of tongue and teeth—his fav kinda kisses.

“gotta big load for you baby, c’mon cum with me i know you can do it,” gojo’s words of encouragement finally brought you to your peak and this time you both just let it out. every pushed down moan and groan could be heard from anywhere if anyone paid close enough attention but neither of you could find it in you to care. gojo’s hips stilled as he emptied himself inside you, his tongue lolling out in the process. you were quick to bring your hands to his soft locks, gently scratching his scalp. “don’t do that, gonna make me too tired for the drive home,” he chuckled, giving your sweaty neck a sloppy kiss.

“speaking of, how am i supposed to walk with all this in me it’s a lot satoruuu,” you whined, feeling the urge to smack gojo on the back of the head for tearing your panties in two. gojo sighed, stroking your bare thigh gently with his thumb muttering something along the lines of ‘i’ll handle it’.

while you and gojo took a minute to regroup from your intense fuck session, geto was regrouping himself from possibly the most intense orgasm he’s ever had. of course he felt disgusted with himself for spying on his best friend fucking his girlfriend but he also wanted more???

this was definitely going to be a problem.

#my writing #gojo smut #satoru smut #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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zriasstuff · 1 month

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Them watching you get ready <3

Slytherin boys x reader fluff headcanons (warning:delulu asf)

the collage isn’t the best, but at least you have all 6 faces now

It’s date-night, but you seem to be taking quite some time to get ready…

Tom Riddle:

Let’s be honest for a second and admit that if you were taking your sweet sweet time, he’d curse at you because everything has to go according to his schedule (i even doubt that he’d do the whole “date-night” thing, but that’s a separate issue)

He’d turn more impatient by the second and barge into your dorm/bathroom without knocking

Tom would rush you so badly and keep telling you to hurry up while rolling his eyes

While you’re doing your makeup he’d pick up each product with disgust and tell you that you look just fine

When you tell him that you need more time, he tells you that there wouldn’t be a date anymore if you didn’t follow him, besides he’d lecture you on your poor time management

Eventually he drags you out with him and dryly compliments you like “see, i told you you look good” (but innerly he enjoyed that you put in effort and wanted to look good for him, even if it took some time)

Mattheo Riddle:

He wouldn’t rush you when you tell him you need more time, instead he’d take advantage of watching you get ready

When you choose your clothes, he’d encourage you to do a little fashion show for him and he would tell you that you looked perfect in every single one

He would tell you to choose a short and tight dress though, we all know why ;)

During make-up he is totally one of those guys who say “it’s all the same shade”, and in reality it’s like maroon and bright red

As a joke he’d also apply some of the products, but wipe them off immediately because he feels too emasculated

When you ask him if you could do make-up on him some day he’d simply reply “sure, but then i would get to do whatever i want with you”

Draco Malfoy:

When you offer him to watch you get ready, since you still aren’t done, he immediately accepts

Draco totally loves seeing you get ready too because during your relationship he has spoiled you so much that half your closet/vanity is basically from him

Since he grew up close to his mother, he has actually spent a lot of time in his childhood going to barbers/salons/boutiques with her

So from that he has gained excellent taste, even helps you with styling your hair, and helps you pick out accessories

He knows how long this stuff can take, so he just takes the time to make you feel beautiful and confident, showering you with compliments and pecks “you look so good in the things i buy you darling”/“you are always so gorgeous and sexy”

Theodore Nott:

He wouldn’t mind that you were not on time, the date started the second he saw you, so you getting ready was just time that you could spend together too

You are afraid it takes away the surprise factor at first, but it’s not a big deal to him

When you start to change into different outfits, he’s always there to help you undress/unzip the dresses, taking the opportunity to smoothly move his hands down your body

That would just eventually turn into a makeout session though, you just couldn’t resist when he was being that touchy and ravishing too

It takes quite some time for you to actually get ready in the end because he always distracts you in the process, but in the end you would both have had a fun time

Blaise Zabini:

He’d be quite chill and sit on your bed when you tell him to wait, just watching you get ready at your vanity

He would maybe be a little bit annoying—asking you every three seconds if you were ready to go, and he would say “you literally look the same as always, what’s the point of all this”

Eventually he liked watching you more and more though, notice the difference, and carefully pay attention to everything you did

He’d learn to appreciate both your natural and “full-glam” beauty and just observe you with interest

As soon as you were done he’d immediately kiss you (ruining your lip-combo sadly) and his lips would be stained, and he’d be smiling, fascinated by your beauty

Lorenzo Berkshire:

When you tell him to wait outside, he’d respect that at first, but would grow impatient eventually

So, he goes up to you and tells you that he would like to be a part of the process

Opposite to Mattheo, he’d actually be down to you putting make-up on his face for fun (he’s fully convinced that he could pull anyone with or without makeup)

To be honest, he didn’t care much about what you put on because you looked hot in his eyes either way, but he knew the more interested he acted the more appreciative you’d be

Looking at you with puppy-eyes at all times is his specialty, and when you’re finally done he looks at you like you’re an angel fallen from heaven

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lavnderwonu · 2 months

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the boy next door | jeon wonwoo

pairing: idol!boyfriend!wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: secret relationship, established relationship, smut

summary: sneaking around with your secret boyfriend.

warnings: smut (!!!), little plot lol, wonwoo as your secret boyfriend, softdom! wonwoo, wonwoo is hot (yes that's a warning), mirror sex (kinda?), pet names (baby), praise kink, size kink AHEM, clitoral stimulation, fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, reader has to be quiet, hint at another round.

word count: 1.9k

author’s note!: when i tell you this concept has been on my mind for weeks... i'm not lying. the wonwoo brainrot was hitting HARD when i was writing this. i was originally going to make it a secret situationship but im a #1 hater of that whole thing so relationship it is. plus i just think it'd be hot. who wouldn't want wonu as their secret boyfriend? anyway, let me know what you think, i appreciate feedback! 🩷

click here to join my taglist!

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand as you’re in your bathroom, going through your night time routine, just like any other night. As soon as you make it to your phone, it’s stopped ringing. Unlocking it, you see a notification.

Wonwoo

Missed Call

Your boyfriend. Well, only you knew he was your boyfriend, anyway. Although you’d be lying if you never posted any “soft launches” of you two, whether it was an extra iced americano on your counter, or a very obvious mystery man driving while you sat in the passenger seat.

Before you can even call him back, he’s already texting you.

Wonwoo: are you awake? Wonwoo: i saw your story earlier. you looked nice.

You went out earlier in the day to run your usual errands, which usually consisted of shopping of some sort, then wandering around a bookstore. You threw on a cute floral mini dress, and for good measure, you promptly decided to take a picture in your full-body mirror hoping a certain someone would see.

You laugh to yourself, typing out a reply.

you liked it? well you’re too late. i’m in my pajamas now.

It was only 11:30 pm, so maybe it was a tad early for pajamas for some. But for all you know he was probably in sweats playing some game on his phone or reading a book.

Wonwoo: i don’t care, you always look pretty baby Wonwoo: come over here

He lived down the hall from you, with his roommate and best friend, Mingyu. His apartment was easy access, but pretty risky if Mingyu was there, so usually Wonwoo would just come over to yours.

You're about to ask is mingyu there? until he answers the question before you even finish typing.

Wonwoo: mingyu’s gone

You bite your lip, typing a reply. Fuck, you can’t say no.

on my way

You toss your phone on your bed, quite literally, quickly getting yourself ready, you decide to put on your favorite lavender-colored bra and matching panties underneath your pajamas you already had on. Your favorite color; and a different variation of his.

Going down the hall from your apartment, you reach his door, quickly knocking a few times before he answers.

“I thought you were joking when you said you were in pajamas,” Wonwoo jokes, examining you as you walk in. “You were serious.”

“Shut up, it was getting late.” You blush, as you damn near fight the urge to jump him, cause damn. He looks too good, even in a hoodie and sweatpants.

“You look cute,” He pulls you close to him, his fingers sliding underneath your shirt to grip your waist. “Can’t wait to take them off…”

You lean into him, fingers lightly threading through his hair that’s gotten so much longer recently.

“How much time do we have?”

“Hours.” Wonwoo responds, confident. “Mingyu said he was going out with Jungkook, they’ll probably be out half the night drinking.”

His hands slowly slide up your back, sending your heart thrumming in your chest, you’re unable to deny the effect he has on you.

You both know you’d eventually have to go public with your relationship, but for now, you’d just enjoy the adrenaline rush you get everytime you’re alone together.

You make it to his bedroom, in a heated kiss, you back away to safely removing his glasses and placing them on his nightstand.

Kneeling on his bed in front of him, you quickly tug at the hoodie he has on. “Off.” You order him, and he obeys, pulling it over his head.

He tosses to the floor, before kissing you again, his hands slide up your shirt, groping your breasts lightly through your bra, making you softly moan against his lips. He breaks the kiss and his lips softly trail along the corner of your lips, to your jaw, and onward.

You begin working on unbuttoning your silky pajama shirt as Wonwoo trails wet kisses down your neck. His hands take over, effortlessly unbuttoning it. Your eyes glance over to the mirror on the wall, giving you a full view of you kneeling on his bed and him towering over you.

He slips your shirt off your shoulders, and his eyes briefly follow your gaze, realizing what you’re looking at.

“Are you watching yourself in the mirror?” Wonwoo says into your ear, giving you chills.

“Uh-huh.” Your breath shaky as you reply, nodding.

“Turn around.” He suddenly demands, kissing behind your ear before you turn around, your back now facing him.

Wonwoo wraps one arm around your torso, holding you against his sturdy chest. His hand lightly touches your chin, turning you to face the mirror again.

“Keep watching yourself, baby.”

You watch as his free hand slips underneath your pajama shorts, his fingers lightly ghosting over your clothed clit. You gasp as your hips jolt, desperately seeking out more friction.

“Wonwoo…” You gasp, gripping his arm tighter.

His hand slides underneath the elastic of your underwear, applying firm pressure as he circles your clit, before you feel his fingers slide down between your folds and he mutters a breathy fuck against your neck when he feels how wet you are already.

“You’re already dripping for me, baby.” Wonwoo says deeply, voice slightly muffled into your neck. “Couldn’t wait to see me, could you?”

He’s expecting an answer, and it’s impossibly hard now that he’s sliding two fingers inside you, expertly curling his fingers to find that special spot that you often couldn’t reach yourself.

“N-no, I couldn’t… thought about you all day.” You cry, nails digging into his forearm, and he’s seemingly unfazed by it. His fingers pound into your sweet spot, making your head fall back against his shoulder.

“Fuck, look at how pretty you look.” Wonwoo says, glancing at your reflection, your brows furrowed as you focus on the feeling of his fingers inside you.

“I’m so close…” You whine, turning to bury your face in his neck as you inhale the sweet scent of his cologne like you never want to forget it.

“I know, baby. You’re fucking squeezing my fingers.” Wonwoo grunts as your walls clench around his fingers. “Let it go, I got you.”

Your legs shake as you grip onto his forearm for dear life, desperate for something to hold onto. A cry of his name leaves your lips as you cum, your heart racing, panting trying to catch your breath.

“That’s my girl.” Wonwoo turns to kiss your forehead gently, his fingers slip from your dripping center, brushing your clit one last time and the friction is enough to make you wince.

He releases his hold on you, and you turn around to face him, kissing him needily. “Fuck me,” You whisper against his lips. “I need you.”

“So needy…” Wonwoo playfully mocks you, suddenly turning into his unintentionally adorable self, as if he didn’t just pull a powerful orgasm out of you moments ago. “Don’t I at least get to enjoy this cute little set you wore for me?” He pulls off your shirt, even though it was already damn near falling off anyway.

You blush, kissing him again.

“We don’t have time for that.” You chuckle, already feeling somewhat anxious that Mingyu is going to walk into the apartment at any second.

Wonwoo can read you like a book, and he notices right away. “Hey, there’s no rush.” He says gently, as his hands reach behind you to unhook your bra.

You slide it off the rest of the way, then toss it on the floor. “I know, I’m just enjoying this. I don’t want to be interrupted.” You drape your arms over his shoulders as you press your body against him, kissing him fervently. You moan against his lips as you feel his hard cock pressing against you.

You slide your hands down his chest, reaching to loop your fingertips into the waistband of his sweatpants. “Take these off, baby.” You whisper as you kiss his along jaw a few times, before you grope his length through them for emphasis. “Please.”

Wonwoo gently nudges you to fall back on his bed, and you sit up on your elbows, eagerly watching him as he obeys you, taking them off. “Better?” His gaze meets yours as you look him over.

You eagerly nod, lifting your hips for him as he rids you of your pajama shorts you still had on, along with your soaking wet underwear.

“How do you want it, baby?” Wonwoo huskily asks you, removing his underwear. He curses under his breath as he watches you bend your knees and spread your legs apart, allowing him full access to you.

You gasp as you feel him suddenly pull you further down on his bed, quickly followed by a whine as you feel the weight of his cock on your clit. You sit up on your elbows to see him dragging his cock through your folds, coating himself in your wetness.

Both of you can only watch, breathing heavily.

“Wonwoo…” You whine his name, gripping the sheets beneath you as the tip of his cock bumps you clit again. You both watch as he lines himself up with your entrance, finally pushing inside you.

“Look at that.” Wonwoo grunts, watching you take every inch, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate him.

“Fuck…” You throw your head back, a soft moan falling from your lips as you feel so full. “You’re too big…”

“You take me so well…look at you.” Wonwoo praises you, as his hands come up to gently stroke your inner thighs, and it’s enough to get you to relax. “You okay?”

You nod, “Yeah, you can move. Please.”

He starts to pound into you at a steady pace, making you grab onto his shoulders for something to hold onto. Your nails dig into his skin as he drives his cock into your sweet spot over and over.

You let out a sob of a moan, and Wonwoo thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.

“God, you sound so pretty,” He moans, “Crying for me…”

“I’m not gonna last long.” You whine, your walls already clenching around him.

Your heart nearly stops in your chest when suddenly you hear the front door to the apartment open, then hear Mingyu enter.

You gasp, and Wonwoo quickly shushes you.

“Relax, he’s not going to come in here, he probably thinks I left.” He whispers, all the while he hasn’t stopped fucking you.

“Can you be quiet?”

You can barely find the words to speak, your brain too focused on the feeling of his cock inside you.

“Answer me.”

You frantically nod, and that’s about all you can muster the strength to do. Your walls clench around him and he knows you’re close.

“Shit, I’m gonna come…” You softly moan, as quiet as you can, then you feel his hand cover your mouth, muffling your cries as your walls squeeze his cock hard, but he keeps fucking you through your high.

He keeps going until he’s coming too, groaning into your neck as you feel his cock nearly throbbing as he releases inside of you.

“Fuck…” Wonwoo sighs, as you both are catching your breath. “That wasn’t how that was supposed to happen.” You both smile bashfully at each other.

You gently thread your fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his forehand.

“That’s okay, we can sneak over to my place… we won’t have to be quiet.”

tags: @dearlyjun @cosmojinyoung

some others i couldn’t tag! 💔

#jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 2 months

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✨Pretty Boy✨

OOOOOHHHH BUDDY I'm excited to post this story! I'm not gonna ramble for this one, so please enjoy the ride 😉

(I'm a teeny bit late on posting this but better late than never!)

Summary: You find something peculiar in the walk-in closet...

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, lingerie, mention of toys, oral (f receiving), collars, pegging

"Damn it! Where the hell is it?," you shouted in frustration. You should have looked for that dress before you hopped in the shower, things would have been way smoother. Now you stood in your walk-in closet with damp hair and adorning nothing but a towel that was wrapped tightly around your chest. You could have sworn you saw that purple sequence dress hanging in here last night! Where could it have gone? You rummaged around your closet for 10 minutes now, but you still came up empty handed! You stomped over to the last rack of hanging clothes closest to the back wall, scanning every article of clothing.

While pushing each dress from left to right that wasn't the one you were hoping to find, something had caught your eye. A small golden handle on the left side of the wooden wall with hinges on the right side. A door? You were in here so often, it's hard to imagine how you could have missed it! Tentatively, you reached out to grab the handle, curious as to what you would find. The small door slowly creaked open and...woah...

You blinked a few times to make sure you were seeing what you saw hanging in there. "Lingerie?," you mumbled to yourself. Well, it certainly wasn't yours, you never really cared to wear something like that yourself, and Lucifer never seemed to mind your decision either, thankfully. You pulled one of the hanging pieces from the rack to examine it closely. The design was elegant as far as lingerie was concerned. Black fabric with lacy red leaf designs on the breasts and stomach area with no coverage around either side of the abdomen.

It was cute...but who's was it? Perhaps it was Lucifer's ex-wife Lilith's? You weren't sure why she would leave it behind. Or why Lucifer would keep them. But the more you looked at the piece of clothing you held, that didn't seem right either. This was small, smaller than most lingerie you'd seen before. And from what you had seen from pictures, Lilith was not a small woman, far from it. She had to have been at least 7' ft. tall, she would never fit in something like this.

You continued to ponder this until you went back to explore the hidden closet. There were more items located at the very bottom that brought a sudden blush to you face. "Holy shit...," you mouthed, struggling to get your brain to process what you've just found. You felt like you just accidently stumbled into one of Hell's sex shops! Dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, collars, bottles of lube and...was that a strap on? What the hell was this perverted closet?! It didn't make sense! Why was this here? Who did this stuff belong to? Why would Lucifer...?

Wait...Lucifer...

Oh! OH SHIT!

It finally clicked in your brain. This was never Lilith's. This was Lucifer's!

“Ok, ok, it’s ok, it’s fine,” you told yourself, “it’s…oh fuck me…”

You stood there dumbfounded, imagining him in the skimpy outfit you held in your hand. You saw him sprawled out in front of you on the bed, drool trailing down the side of his mouth. You saw his half- lidded eyes staring back at you as you hovered over him, his expression filled with need and lust. Your face suddenly felt hot. You were so lost in your fantasy that you didn’t hear the footsteps growing louder behind you.

“Honey?,” Lucifer called out, “are you ready to go? We’re gonna be late for-” he froze as soon as he turned the corner and saw you in your hypnotized state. You snapped your head towards him, holding him in place with your vacant stare. You both stood there wordlessly for a few seconds until Lucifer finally found his voice again.

“I-I…,” he stuttered, “I can explain.”

Oh, you would love to hear his explanation for this. But you quickly decided that you were going to have a little fun with him. Feigning annoyance, you folded your arms across your chest, still hanging on the piece of lingerie.

"And when exactly were you going to tell me about this, Lucifer?" you chastised, almost cracking a smile. "Or were you hoping that I wouldn't find this dirty little closet of yours?"

"Yes! I mean no! Th-that's not it!," he stumbled over his words. He was panicking. It was adorable watching his cheeks turn a shade of red you've never seen from him before. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to cool himself down after the sudden heat spike he felt climb up his face. "Please, love, I'll tell you everything! I'm so sorry, I-I didn't know what you were going to think. I was going to tell you...eventually."

"So let me get this straight," you replied as you sauntered your way over to him, making your way over to the shaken-up man. He backed away from you slowly until he hit the end of the vanity on the other side of the room, gripping it for dear life. Once you finally stood in front of him, you grabbed Lucifer by his tie and forced his face to be inches away from yours. He held his breath as you leaned in closer and closer until he could feel your hot breath on his lips. "You mean to tell me…,” you whispered, “that I could have been fucking you senseless in lingerie this entire time?!"

In that moment, Lucifer’s mind absolutely shattered. Did you say what he thinks you just said? He inhaled sharply after remembering how to breathe. “Y-You…I…th-this is…WHAT?,” he choked out.

“Did I stutter?,” you snickered. You closed the gap between you two and placed a searing kiss on his lips. Though hesitant at first, Lucifer couldn’t help but melt into you, his eyes fluttering shut, your tongues entangled in an elegant dance. You pulled away from him, much to Lucifer’s dismay and flashed him a lustful yet devious grin. “I’m sorry for acting like I was upset with you just now, Luci. That was a tad mean, I admit. In all honesty, it’s actually quite the opposite.”

Lucifer finally released his death grip on the vanity and stood up straight, adjusting his tie that you had loosened. “Th-That’s umm,” Lucifer swallowed hard, “that’s a relief to hear, darling. This is probably the best reaction I could have hoped for.” He flashed a nervous toothy smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I think,” you smiled coyly, dropping the towel you had wrapped around your body and revealing your nakedness to a now wide-eyed and mouth agape Lucifer, “we can be a little late for dinner.”

You saw Lucifer swallow hard at the sight of you. “S-sweetheart,” he began,” I admire your eagerness, I really do! B-but we shouldn’t be late, it’s nearly impossible to get a reservation there and-”

Before he could finish making up excuses, you tossed the lingerie onto the vanity behind him and leaned forward to place your hands on either side of him, effectively trapping him against it. “You’re the King of Hell, Lucifer,” you retorted, “what are they going to do if we’re late, turn you away? Besides…” you took one of your hands and palmed the very apparent bulge in Lucifer’s suit pants, causing him to moan, “we really shouldn’t go out while you’re in this state, don’t you agree?”

Lucifer tried to steady his breathing as you continued to rub him through his pants which were now becoming extremely tight and uncomfortable. “It’s-mmph fuck…your fault,” was all he could manage.

You chuckled, loving the effect you had on him. Not to be outdone, one of Lucifer’s hands quickly slipped down between your wet folds, eliciting a surprise yelp from you. You removed your hand from his pants and gripped his shoulder for balance instead. “Well, well,” Lucifer hummed against you, “seems like I’m not the only one who’s needy right now.” He continued to tease your entrance with his fingers, your grip on his shoulder growing tighter with every passing second. But you refused to let him have the upper hand.

“So that’s how we’re gonna play this, huh?” You breathed against his neck.

“You started it, so don’t-HEY!” With one swift motion, you latched onto Lucifer’s hips and threw him over your shoulder while he tried to playfully squirm away from your grasp. You turned and marched your way over to the bed with a coy smile. “Damn it, let me go!,” Lucifer laughed, but the hold you had on him tightened even further. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry! Please put me down, love, I didn’t mean to-WOAH!” You gave him wish by tossing Lucifer onto the mattress beneath him.

“If you’re really sorry,” you teased as you hovered over him, “you’re gonna put that tongue of yours to good use.”

Lucifer’s smile widened, nodding his head vigorously. You chuckled at his eagerness to please you; it was always so endearing. “You know this is supposed to be a punishment, Luci,” you joked.

“Oh trust me, darling,” he smirked, “this will NEVER be a punishment for me.” With that, he grabbed ahold of your waist and forced your body forward, your dripping cunt now mere inches away his lips. You had no time to respond before you felt his tongue dart across your slit. A wanton moan escaped your lips as he worked his tongue around your clit, circling it with such vigor and passion. His hands dug into either side of your thighs, making sure you couldn’t move away from his ministrations. You couldn’t help but begin to grind your hips against his face, attempting to feel as much of him as possible.

“So g-good for me, Luci,” you staggered, “ffffuuuuck, s-such a good boy for me.”

Your words only seemed to make Lucifer pick up his speed, humming against your slick. His forked tongue darted in and out of you at a relentless pace, his own erection all but forgotten at this point. He was more lost in your pleasure and your intoxicating taste to worry about the almost unbearable tightness in his pants. You felt yourself reaching your peak. No matter how many times Lucifer goes down on you, you knew you’d never last long. He knew exactly what he was doing and he took pride in it. That knot forming in your stomach was on the verge of snapping at any moment.

“FUCK LUCIFER,” you moaned, “FUCKFUCKFUCK!” You forgot how to breathe as your orgasm hit you, your walls clenching around nothing as Lucifer lapped up your juices and helped prolong your high. You caught your breath once your body began to relax again. You shifted your body downwards so you could see Lucifer’s face again, now freshly adorned with your release. He flashed you an innocent looking grin, making you smirk and roll your eyes. You gave him a quick peck on his lips, tasting the faintest hint of yourself on them.

“Good boy,” you praised him, a small whimper escaping Lucifer’s throat. “Go change for me,” you tossed your head to side, indicating to the clothing you left on the vanity. Lucifer’s face flushed a deep shade of red, nodding his head wordlessly. “I’ll be right back, love.”

You made your way off the bed and walked over back to the walk-in closet, stopping at your now new favorite section. You grabbed the strap on and placed it around your waist, adjusting the harness to make sure it was snug against your body. The appendage itself wasn't overly large, around the standard 6 inches. It was perfect for both of you though, who knows how long it's been since Lucifer's done this. You wanted to take things slowly. You grabbed a bottle of lube and were about to leave when you something else in that small cupboard caught your eye. You reached down and grabbed it, wanting to complete his little ensemble. You hid the object behind your back so Lucifer couldn't see it at first.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the closet once more. You scanned the bedroom in front of you until your eyes landed on him. His back was towards you, sitting on the opposite edge of the bed, seemingly gripping the sheets below him. You could sense that he was nervous. And if you were being honest, you were too. But tonight you we're going to take care of him, he more than deserved it.

"Luci?," you called out sweetly. Lucifer sat up straight when he heard his name, looking over his shoulder and giving you a faint smile. You slowly moved towards him, your breathing becoming shakier. He stood up from his seated position, hands clenched at his sides when you stopped in front of him. There was no way to hide the flush of your cheeks when you saw him in his lingerie for the first time.

Breathtaking.

The minimal clothing hugged his body so well, and the black and red coloring made his pale skin pop. You couldn't stop staring, and he noticed. He looked away from you, feeling embarrassed, as if he were on display. You took your free hand and placed in under his chin, turning his head and gazing into his lovely yellow eyes. "You look absolutely stunning, Luci. So beautiful..." you trailed off, placing a small kiss on his forehead. Lucifer couldn't help but bury his face in his hands from your words of affection.

"Can you turn around for me, baby? I have one last thing for you," you asked. Lucifer did as you asked, exhaling a deep breath. You took the object you had in the hand behind your back and wrapped it around his neck. A deep red collar with beautiful golden patters and swirls embroidered onto it. Sewn into the front in large cursive letters spelled the words "Pretty Boy". Lucifer turned around and faced you again, lifting his hand to grab his newly embellished neck. "It suits you, my pretty boy," you cooed, palming his cheek and gently rubbing your thumb against his soft skin. You could make out the tiniest of tears forming in your lover's eyes as he leaned into your touch.

"Are you ready?," you asked sweetly.

"Yes," he whispered against your hand.

"We're going to take our time, alright?," you soothed. "If at any time you want to stop, tell me and we'll be done, no questions asked. You promise?"

"I promise," he smiled.

"That's my good boy," you approved. "How do you want to do this; on your back or on your hands and knees? Whatever you want."

Lucifer swallowed hard. "B-Back, please. Wanna see you."

"I was hoping you'd say that" you chuckled. "Lay down for me."

Lucifer quickly crawled back onto the bed and laid down flat on his back, his legs dangling over the edge. You grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and placed it underneath his head, doing your best to make him as comfortable as possible. You walked around to where his legs hung, grabbing the bottle of lube and placing some on your first two fingers. "Legs up," you told him, and he complied immediately. His ankles now rested on either of your shoulders as he looked at you with the neediest expression you've ever seen from him.

"Let's warm you up, love," you hummed, "just relax for me, okay?" Lucifer shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths in and out as you shifted the fabric out of the way from his entrance. It also wasn't lost on you that his cock had been straining against his clothes this whole time, you planned on giving it some much needed attention. Slowly, you placed your first finger against his hole, feeling his body jolt from the sensation.

"I'm alright!," Lucifer nearly shouted, making sure you didn't pull away from him, "just...surprised me is all! Please don't stop."

With a smile, you pushed your index finger inside of him, feeling the tightness squeezing around you. Lucifer bit his lip and released a guttural moan. You set a slow pace as you thrusted your finger in and out of him, feeling his muscles relaxing with every movement.

"M-more, please more," Lucifer babbled. It was impossible to ignore his pleading, so you complied by inserting your second finger into him, picking up your movements slightly. "Ssshhhiiitt..." you heard Lucifer curse as you separated your fingers inside of him, stretching him further. You stretched and pushed your fingers inside as far as you could; Lucifer was already becoming an incoherent mess. After a minute or two of your continued ministrations, you finally removed your fingers from him, causing Lucifer to whimper desperately.

"You're doing so well for me, baby," you praised. You took the bottle of lube once more and applied a generous amount to the strap. You lined up the tip up against his entrance, hearing Lucifer's breath hitch. "Ready, Luci?"

"Yes, please," he whispered almost inaudibly.

You pushed the tip into him as slowly as you could, stopping only halfway when you heard Lucifer nearly scream.

"Do you need me to stop?," you asked anxiously.

"No, no! It's...it's alright," he heaved, "j-just give me a minute, please. It burns somewhat, I kind of forgot about that part." You stayed motionless for about 30 seconds before you heard Lucifer give you the okay to start moving again. You shifted your hips to pull out of him and began to slowly sink back into him. Lucifer clawed at the sheets beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations you were giving him. After only a few more seconds, you had sheathed yourself inside of him as far as you could go. The noises Lucifer was making sent shivers straight down your spine; you wanted more.

"F-fuck..." Lucifer choked out, "Please...please move...n-need it...need you..." He was barely able to form a complete sentence anymore. Not wanting to deny him any longer, you started thrusting your strap in and out of him at a steady pace. The slapping of your skin against his echoed throughout the room, mixing with Lucifer's moans of pure ecstasy. Lucifer arched his back as each of your thrusts brushed against his prostrate. You reached down and pushed more of the fabric away, finally freeing his aching cock that was already leaking an excess amount of precum. You began to stoke him in tandem with your thrusts. Lucifer's eyes shot open from this new sensation he could feel all throughout his entire body, letting out a scream of pleasure.

Lucifer stared back at you as you continued to pound into him. You saw the tears welling up in his eyes, a smile of pure joy spread across his face. It was a feeling of pure bliss; a sense of euphoria had ripped through him. His heart was full. You were and are his everything. You leaned down closer to him, and with your free hand, interlaced your fingers with his own.

“You’re taking me so well, Luci,” you cooed, quickening your thrusts. “You look so pretty, my sweet boy.”

“Hnng, c-can’t…fuckfuckfuck, so c-close, please, don’t stop…gonna-FUCK…gonna cum…” Lucifer mewled. “L-Love you…love you so much, my angel, p-please…”

Your thrusts became erratic and you felt his cock twitching in your hand, ready to burst at the seams. “Love you more, Lucifer. Cum for me, baby, it’s alright. Let it all out for me.”

With a few more sharp thrusts of your hips, his orgasm had knocked the wind of of his lungs. Strings of his hot seed burst out of him, ruining his lovely outfit and spilling over your hand. Your thrusts and stroking had slowed as you helped him ride out his high. Lucifer was left a breathless mess beneath you. You hummed as you licked your hand clean of Lucifer’s mess, savoring its taste. You inched your way out of him gently, locking your hands around his ankles and letting his legs sway freely off the bed once again. After stepping out of the strap, you went and picked up the towel you had left on the floor over by the vanity. You patted down on Lucifer's stomach, wiping away the remains of his orgasm. Crawling up beside him, you outstretched your arms and brought him flush against your chest.

"You did so well, Luci," you murmured against his ear, "are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Lucifer shifted himself so he could face you. His eyes seemed to shimmer when he looked into yours, his expression was soft and serene. "All I'll ever need is you, my dear. Thank you...for this. For everything. I love you...more than anything."

You leaned into each other, your lips crashing together as if it would be the last time. But you knew it wouldn't. You'd always be there for him, just as he would for you. You pulled away and brushed his fallen hair away from his face.

"I guess we missed our reservation," you joked.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm absolutely famished," Lucifer laughed. "I should probably go change again, huh?"

"Yes, go get your suit!" Before he could sit up, you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, placing his forehead against your own. "But leave the lingerie on underneath. I'm going to want dessert after our meal."

~~~~

⬆️ God reading my Lucifer smut fics live reaction

I got a lot of explaining to do when I meet Gigachad St. Peter after I leave this corporal realm.

Tag list: @kermitdafroggy, @luc1fersducky, @orbitinglumps, @bigfatbimbo, @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis, @lilzebeth, @bbootyyyshaker9000

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #my writing #god this took longer than intended #i beat my word count record tho!#this image of luci is my fav btw lol #enjoy you nasty peeps #love ya!

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kiwisbell · 4 months

Text

Gloves Off [joel miller]

You enjoy watching him bleed, but you love to watch him succeed. He builds ‘em up just to knock ‘em down. He’s The Contractor, and he’s your reigning king of the ring.

my masterlist!

pairing: boxer!joel miller x f!reader

tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), no outbreak!joel, blood and violence (by virtue of joel’s career), boxing, joel’s got that dawg in him, established relationship, oral fixation, weightlifting, cleaning wounds, protective!joel, soft!joel, joel is a munch, cockblocking, fingering, squirting, riding, unprotected piv (let's not follow this example), creampie, cum eating, dirty talk, light choking, mirror sex, “she” pronoun used — switches to “you” a little ways in & stays that way, some light playful smacking, some light playful blasphemy, a hint of exhibitionism, they're a bedroom-ceiling-mirror couple™️, no i do not know the intricacies of boxing, it's violent and i'm just a girl

word count: ~ 9k

read on ao3!

a/n: this is mostly porn and some very light plot. we're mostly just establishing these two for now – but more will come in the future as i build on this universe! thank you so much mya @cavillscurls for beta reading this mess, for giving joel's girl her fightin' name, and for generally holding my hand. ilysm honey

dividers by the lovely @saradika

follow @kiwisbellupdates and turn on notifications if you'd like to be notified when i post a fic!

It’s loud. Loud enough to bruise. Monstrous pulses of bass resonate from the ground into veins and lungs and muscles. No choice but to swallow.

In those rare moments when the music recedes, it's the swell of the audience, the cloying aroma of beer and the crunch of peanut shells underfoot. It’s the rapacious jeers and whoops from a crowd who refuses to let silence infest. Chest-deep belching and beer-guzzling and bet-placing. Illicit handshakes that become permissible for the next hour.

The lights of the arena dazzle—rhythmic hues of flashing yellowblueorange strobing brilliantly above to the throbbing bass. He always gets uproarious applause, makes an indelible impression: the stoic, humble shake of his wide shoulders as he bounces impatiently on the balls of his feet, the royal blue robe embroidered with gold, the eager kiss he gives his girlfriend as she gently slips the fabric off and gives him a brilliant smile.

He isn't shy about the way he takes his girl into his arms, one big callused hand pulling her in at the small of her back. The audience roars. Cameras flash. Some sort of pre-fight ritual, some unfamiliars presume. Presses go wild for shit like this. Maybe he’s doing it for the cameras.

Then he cups her face, her ear comfortably situated between his thumb and forefinger, briefly bunching her hair in his fist before he lets her go. And—no, this isn't for show. She says something nobody but he can hear, slipping his robe over her own shoulders, too-big and draping off her body, and he grins crookedly, half-listening to his coach rattle off the game plan.

She kisses him chastely on the cheek, but it lingers, some whispers—promises, maybe—softly exchanged. Then she saunters off, hips swaying, tying his robe around her waist.

“And now—”

The drawl of the announcer heralds a cheer.

“Your heavyweight champion, your boy in blue, your reigning king of the K.O.—”

Another piercing uproar. There are few here in Austin who favour the opponent. They toast their cups of foamy beer to the man approaching the ring, still bouncing and shaking out his limbs and popping in a mouthguard.

“You know him. You love him. You enjoy watching him bleed, but you love to watch him succeed. The Contractor—”

It’s his girl who screams this time, banging the flat of her palms on the floor of the ring, her eyes alight with excitement. Under the robe wrapped around her body is a tight black dress. She's a picture of paradox. Elegance rubs up against the ravenous spirit of the arena. The lights dance in her eyes. Hunger thrives in those irises. Her eyes don't waver from the man entering the ring.

“Joel Miller!”

He slips under the ropes and raises his fists, now adorned in bright red gloves, high in the air. He’s dressed in blue shorts that reflect the strobing colours, torso bare, greying hair tousled. Tousled, no doubt, from her fingers. He stands like a Grecian statue before the crowd, made to be admired, and yet they feel distinctly as if they have intruded on an obscene, private moment.

The judge, dressed in an old polo and a pair of dress slacks, exuding the illusion of propriety, enters next. Joel doesn't smile or wave at the crowd. Fans know his shtick—the cold, calculated killer with the K.O. record last season, disinterested in reputation, a man of focus. But he glances down at the girl just outside the ring and winks. Her answering grin tells a story. But it is not one for the cameras and the press and the beer-guzzlers. It’s just another length of the thread spooling between them.

The opponent arrives—some up-and-coming challenger who goes by Ricky The Great and wears a plastic gold crown as he emerges from the darkness; yawn—and the audience promptly begins their jeers. It’s Texas. Here, Joel Miller owns the scene. That's just the way the cookie crumbles.

Ricky The Great, all glamorous smiles and brush-offs in the face of so much heckling, shrugs off his fire truck-red robe and climbs into the arena. He bumps gloves with Joel, who kneels down and bumps gloves with his girl’s bare fists. The judge speaks to both of them—something about a clean fight, nothin’ dirty now—and the crowd draws a collective breath. The music peters. For a moment, there's silence.

The bell rings and the roar of the crowd crescendos.

Joel makes the first hit. He doesn't bother circling his opponent for long; he strikes precise and true and knocks Ricky’s head back. The rippling of his muscles as he throws his first punch is taut, intricate. A delicate transfer of energy. There's none of the same finesse in the way Ricky strikes: he’s flighty, uncertain, too stiff in his attacks. But he’s got strength, and his blows land.

The first strikes Joel on the left side of his face, a low thud of impact that makes the audience recoil.

She’s lurching forward, spitting venom, hurling fire at the challenger: Oh, fuck that! Is that all you can do? My mother’s dog hits harder than that!

The Contractor shakes it off, back on the defensive, and look at the boy in blue carry the fight, he’s got his arms up to block the next, and he’s returning each punch like he’s making conversation, and folks—folks!—the first round is over, the Contractor is fired up, and he’s not going to let another hit get past him, don't mess with Miller, folks, don't mess with Miller!

With a thick forearm, he swipes his sweat-matted curls away from his sticky forehead and lowers himself into the opposite corner from Ricky The Great.

“You gotta keep your guard up, Texas,” says a sweet, sultry voice—she’s hopping up into the ring, handing him a water bottle. “Don’t get cocky.”

He squirts the water into his mouth and all over his face while his coach Fred takes a knee beside him. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Your lady’s right. Don’t gotta be on the offensive the whole damn time. Hit him, but hit him smart. He’s a rookie.” Fred claps him hard on the shoulder. “Yeah?”

Joel nods, his brow lowered, his face set in a firm scowl. The Texas Hold ‘Em, she calls that look. Means he's done playin’.

Fred smacks him twice on the cheek. “You gonna fight like you mean it?”

“Goddamn right.”

“You gonna hit the kid like he owes you money?”

“Goddamn fuckin’ right.”

Fred grunts, satisfied. “Good. Then get your ass up and fight like a man, so you can take your girlfriend to dinner. Eh, asshole?”

She bites her bottom lip. “You gonna take me out?”

Joel inhales sharply through his bruised nose as she toys with the tie of the robe around her waist. “Tomorrow night,” he says. “White Rose.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes are doe-like. “Better win this fight, then, Texas. Maybe I’ll treat you.”

She slips under the ropes and winks, settling in for round two. Joel knocks his gloves together and stands up, shaking himself out.

Ricky The Great is giving him a great, bloodied smile, rolling his head around his shoulders. “Hell of a fight you put up,” he says good-naturedly as they meet in the centre of the ring to bump gloves again. “Hell of a pretty girl, too.”

A minute narrowing of brown eyes gone beetle-black. A careful and measured silence as he awaits the next words he knows will decide the course of the night.

“You’ll let me have a go with her after, right?”

The bell chimes. The crowd roars.

Headlines stamped bold-faced on front pages by morning will only beckon a bigger crowd by the next fight.

RICKY THE GREAT K.O.’d IN SECOND ROUND: THE CONTRACTOR REIGNS

You listen to the rhythmic thud, thud, thud of his fists hitting the bag as your teeth absently chew the end of your pen to plastic mulch.

His back is facing you, huge and muscled and rippling with every blow he lands on the bag. Gruff exhales are punched out of him, the deep purple hue of the bruises on his chest pulling taut over tanned skin. He's quiet, typical after a fight, the adrenaline of the ring accumulating in the weight of each punch.

“Joel, honey, a couple venues are asking for you by name. Say they want you in… let’s see, Wyoming, New York, and Las Vegas. Should I tell them you're local only?”

He doesn't answer, the rhythm of his punches never faltering, the cascading path of his spine flexing, dripping beads of sweat. There are dimples in his lower back.

“Joel?”

He isn't just letting off steam.

He’s mad.

You sigh, peeling yourself away from your desk and placing your hand between his shoulder blades. He shows his blows, grasping the bag to keep it still, his head briefly lolling low as you rub his sweat-slick back.

“Come with me,” you say softly, pressing a soft kiss to one of the bruises on his shoulder. He takes a moment to shuck off his gloves, dropping them to the floor and following you to the desk. His hands are still wrapped, knuckles bruised beneath. You guide him gently to sit in your chair while you shuffle through items in the drawers to produce a cloth. You wet it with your water bottle, now lukewarm, and gesture for his hands as you sit on the desk. You begin to unwrap the gauze on his left, letting it rest in your lap.

You make quick work of the wraps and his split knuckles, gently cleaning away the dried blood and making sure no dirt has accumulated. He flexes his fingers when you're finished and seems to relish the twinge of pain that accompanies it.

“You should take it easy on your hands after a fight, honey. Rest up before the next.”

It's lost on him, of course. He hardly sleeps. But he nods, one hand on your thigh, rubbing circles over your hip bone. “I know.”

You smile faintly, touched by his attempt to placate you despite the distant glaze over his eyes, and begin to clean the cuts on his face: one on his lip, his chin, and just below his swollen eye. To his credit, he doesn't flinch much. You've been patching him up long enough.

“Wanna tell me what happened, Texas?”

His eyes shutter, head ducked to evade the tender press of the washcloth to his chin. You frown. “Joel.”

He just shakes his head. You shouldn't have to hear shit like that. And he knows that you know, but you don't say a word, humming softly, the melody of letting it go. Joel grasps your free hand and threads his fingers through yours, his mouth meeting your unmarred knuckles.

“Baby,” you coo, “I need to get you cleaned up. Look at me.”

He lifts his eyes as best he can with one sealed a quarter shut, and you click your tongue softly. “Nobody gets a hit in on my man. Fucking asshole.”

“‘s okay, baby.” He kisses the inside of your wrist and you bite down on a laugh when his moustache tickles your sensitive skin. “I’m okay. Had my coach there with me.”

“Fred’s a pretty good guy,” you say coyly.

Joel hauls you abruptly onto his lap. You yelp, winding your arms around his neck to steady yourself. His lips find your jaw, ghosting along the line of it. “You know I ain't talkin’ about Fred.”

“Take it easy,” you implore him. “You’ve got a split lip and a swollen eye, killer. Can’t go getting all sweet on me.”

He harrumphs, your grumpy old dog, and continues to kiss you anyway, nosing at your cheek so you’ll turn your head to the side. He places his lips on your pulse point and lets them linger there awhile.

At last, he tells you the truth. “He asked if I’d share you.”

You scratch your nails at his scalp, tousling his sweaty curls. “Hmm. Wouldn't be the first time. Remember Galveston?”

His grip instinctively tightens around your waist. “Fuckin’ asshole.”

“You got him good, though.”

“Goddamn right.”

“And I got a real nice night out of it. Fuck, that hotel room. The continental breakfast. The bath.”

“That fuckin’ dress,” he adds, nipping your jaw. “Could've eaten you alive.”

“You did.”

Joel chuckles, kissing his way back to your mouth. “Never goin’ back to that bar again, though.”

He’d started a good-and-proper fight in the dive bar that night a few years back over some piece of shit who pinched your ass in front of Joel. Your killer had made quite the reputation for himself… after you and Fred bailed him out of the county jail with a decent rap sheet to take back home as a souvenir. From the proud gleam in his eye that night, you guessed he'd happily paste that record to the refrigerator if he had his say.

“I don’t know, honey. Folks in that town know not to mess with Texas.”

He gives you a hard look. Goddamn right.

“You had me going there for a minute during that first round,” you tell him, cupping the good side of his face. “You feel okay?”

He studies you, fingers idly tracing your vertebrae. “Yeah, baby. I’m good.”

“You still feel like that dinner at the White Rose?”

He grins crookedly. “If you let me pick your dress.”

You smile, brushing some wet curls away from his forehead. “Anything you need.”

Kissing him deeply, you lick your way into his mouth, your thighs hugging his hips. Joel groans, pulling you snug to him by the small of your back, and you feel him begin to fill out his shorts, his length warm and heavy against his leg. You roll your hips, desire tingling at your fingertips and spreading inward.

It’s warm and sticky, this love he has. It’s the way the sunlight glues a gold shine to his skin when he first wakes and it’s the boundless crooning melody of “Purple Rain” in your ear as he's winding down from a fight. He’s the muggy fingers of dusk, languid and lazy on your body, gold darkening to black as you become a thing he seeks to cover, conceal, make only his.

He suffocates. It’s how he best knows to show you his love.

Joel tugs your hair so you’ll tip your head back and leaves sloppy, open-mouthed kisses up your throat, stern in his nibbles and bites, teeth scraping along the cut of your jaw.

“Joel…”

“You know what I need.” Joel jerks his chin in the direction of the bench. “Go and spread ‘em, nice and wide for me.”

Oh, you think, noting the tension that still coils in his shoulders. Oh.

Your heart thunders as you obey, crossing the room and lowering yourself onto the adjustable bench, thighs straddling the cushion. Joel’s eyes are catlike, pupils puffy, predatory. He prowls toward you, dropping to one knee, near-clinical in his assessment of your posture, your heaving chest, the slight quiver of your thighs as he lifts his hands to squeeze your soft flesh.

“Wanna see you,” he says plainly. “Show me.”

You’re giddy with excitement as you lift the hem of your top and toss it aside, giving him a good view of the white lace cupping your breasts. Joel hums, shifting closer, easing your thighs open to fit his broad shoulders.

One of his hands migrates from your hip to your ribcage, his thumb brushing over the soft swell of your breast. You shudder, letting him explore you, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“Take this off,” he says. You reach for the clasp of your bra and let it join your discarded shirt. The rough pad of his thumb rolls gently over your nipple as your skin puckers and you begin to stiffen.

“Joel,” you whisper. He tuts you into silence and warms your sternum under his palm.

“Relax, baby. Let me see you play for a little while.”

Leaning back on the bench, your hand trails down your body, fingers dancing on your soft, sweet skin, and Joel’s licking his lips before you can even reach the apex of your thighs—lifting your skirt and showing him the simple cotton panties covering his meal. You’ve darkened the fabric with your arousal.

“Goddamn vision,” says Joel. “So fuckin’ pretty. You need someone to pay her some attention?”

“Please,” you mewl, your fingers swiping lightly over your clit. “Please, baby, I need you so bad.”

Joel lowers himself beneath your skirt and presses a soft kiss to your pussy over your panties. Your hips buck instinctively, seeking his mouth, but Joel presses his palm flat against your lower belly.

“Joel…”

“Lie still, sweetheart. I need a taste.”

You whine, a bit petulant, but let him take his time, his tongue darting out to lick you over your underwear. The muffled pleasure makes you choke on air, your head falling back against the bench. You lose sight of his head under your skirt, unable to grasp his hair or guide him closer, unable to do anything except let him take what he wants.

Back when he used to smoke, Joel found a replacement drug between your legs. He’d lick and suck at your clit until he no longer craved the sweet stick of nicotine to his lungs; sometimes, on fight nights like this one, he’ll spend hours with his mouth on your body to quell the buzz of adrenaline that beat his heart against his ribs. He needs his hit in the shape of you.

His new habits had carried over in the years since he quit. Now, he’s dimpling your thighs with his fingers, keeping you spread open as he teases you with his mouth, making out with your pussy. He swallows your sweet little moans and inhales your scent and loses himself entirely in the pleasure of being between your thighs.

“Fuck, baby—” Your voice breaks into a whimper as he at last shifts your ruined panties aside and slides his hot tongue through your weeping slit. “Ahhhh, fuck. Yeah, right there.”

He groans at the first real taste of you, drenched and puffy and practically crying for him, your hips grinding in time with the swirling motions of his tongue. The sting of the cut on his lip, soaked in your wetness, does little to deter him. He delves into you, the slope of his nose pressed against your sensitive little clit as he glides the tip of his tongue around your hole. Your hands find your tits, squeezing and rolling your nipples between your fingers, head lolling against the cushion of his bench.

Joel slides the flat of his tongue through your slit repeatedly, lavishing attention on your folds with his lips, kissing you deeply and fervently, the consistent pressure pooling in your core. Your stomach tightens when he sucks your clit between his lips, moustache prickling your thighs as he hugs your thighs around his shoulders. They rest on his back, your toes curling with the mounting pleasure as he flicks his tongue over your slick pearl and takes it into his mouth.

“Ohhhh, yes. Yesyesyes, just like that. Fuck, baby, that feels soooooh!”

Joel growls, crushed into your pussy, deafening himself as he holds your thighs firm around his ears, split knuckles stinging. He needs this. He’ll die if he doesn't have this. Your gooey-sweet body cups him in a soft, glowing light, warmth wiggling out from the core of you and splitting him down the middle. He eats you until you're sobbing his name, begging to come, jerking your hips around under the weight of his tongue against your clit.

“Joel, I’m…”

He knows. He can feel it. You pulse slowly, rhythmically, your stomach tight and your hips grinding up into his face. With one finalistic twitch of your thighs, your leg kicks out, and you come, your head thrown back against the bench, your entire body seizing with Joel’s head fixed between your legs.

He doesn't stop when you begin to shiver on your way back down, licking up the release from your tight little hole and slathering it over your folds just to drink it back up again. You give him a gurgling moan, reaching down to shuck your skirt up and reveal his face: pupils wide, fingers dimpling your thighs, he looks intoxicated. Gently licking your puffy clit, he swirls his tongue over it, and you gasp, your fingers curling in his sweaty locks.

“Joel, up,” you plead, tugging on his hair. He groans, absconding from your oversensitive pussy, his mouth leaving messy kisses up your belly.

He rests his chin there, looking dazedly up at you. He slowly drags his tongue over his bottom lip, his moustache slick with you. Your thighs suffer a phantom twitch as you watch him idly clean himself up. “Kiss me,” you croak, hauling yourself upright and cupping the back of his neck in your hand.

He does, licking at your kiss-bruised lip, begging for entry. You grant it, tasting your own release on his tongue, a little dazed yourself by the heady tang. Joel’s big arms wrap around your hips, pulling you closer by the small of your back. He breaks the kiss just to tilt your chin up with his nose and nestle his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m all yours, Texas,” you whisper, letting your eyes flutter shut. “Always have been.”

And the smug bastard grins, the shape of it burned into your throat. “Yeah, I know.”

“Miller, your girlfriend's here.”

Ben doesn't even bother to look up from the books as you breeze past his desk with a paper bag in your hands.

“Hi, Ben,” you chirp.

“Hi, honey. He’s in the ring.”

“Thanks!”

Joel, meanwhile, unstraps his gloves, clapping Hank on the shoulder. “Good fightin’, man,” he says.

The younger guy wheezes out a cough as he sheds his own gear. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get the shit kicked outta me by you anytime, Miller.”

You appear around the corner, all smiles, carrying his lunch. Joel hops down from the ring and scoops you up in his arms, setting you down on the edge of the platform. You playfully dig your heels into his ass to pull him closer.

“Smells so good, baby,” he says, grinning against your mouth, the kiss turning into a mess of lips and teeth.

“Me or the food?”

He gives your ass a swat. “What'd you bring me?”

“BLT on rye from Nico’s. Because you didn’t eat breakfast,” you say pointedly.

Joel drops his forehead to your shoulder. “Shit. Sorry, coach.”

“You can apologise later,” you purr, tilting his chin up with your fingers, “the way you do best. For now, just eat.”

“Get a fuckin’ room, Miller,” booms Willie from the opposite side of the gym, barrel-chested and big-headed, wailing on the pads his much smaller trainer holds at arm’s length. You roll your eyes, handing the sandwich to Joel.

But he puts his hands right on your ass and yanks you closer, his teeth gnashing out to catch a nipple through your dress. “Don’t you dare go all male,” you chide. “You're just hungry.”

“Fred won't let me fight him,” grumbles Joel, unwrapping the sandwich and diving in, one hand still kneading your ass. His second nature is touching you. His fingers drum along your vertebrae in the back-and-forth rhythm of a fight.

“That’s because Fred wants you fighting strangers only,” you remind him, plucking his towel from the rope and tousling his sweaty curls. “And so do I.”

You dry him off, sweat and a little blood soaking into the pile, as Joel buries his face between your tits. You smack him upside the head.

“Miller,” calls Fred, hurrying toward the pair of you, “I need a syllable.”

Joel huffs, dropping into a chair and pulling you with him. You toss the damp towel aside and brush his curls away from his forehead. He continues to devour his sandwich like it's his last fucking meal despite your slow downs and don’t chokes, one strong arm banding around your waist.

Fred tucks a cigarette behind his ear, his eyes a little wired. “I’ve got Danny Cain on the phone in my office, and he's asking' for you.”

You frown. “He reps The Preacher.”

“Yeah. He fuckin’ does.” Fred sounds damn near breathless. “And The Preacher wants to fight you, Miller, so you'd better get into my office and answer that fuckin’ line.”

Joel pats your ass and stands with you. “Jesus, Fred, all right. C’mon, baby.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the coach plucks the cigarette from his ear. “I’m going for a smoke. Don't fucking fuck each other in my office, or I swear to God—”

“Keep your whistle on, Freddie,” you call over your shoulder. You can feel the backdraft of the steam billowing from his ears when Joel gives your ass another firm swat.

“Baby, this is huge,” you tell him, locking yourselves inside Fred’s office. His line blinks red. “If you can win against the Preacher…”

“I get to rub it in that God-fearin’ asshole’s face forever.”

“And you’ll steal his record.” You playfully gnash at the tip of his nose, and he grabs a handful of your ass, pulling you with him.

“You're goddamn right I will.” Joel grins, lounging in Fred’s chair and picking up the receiver. “Miller.”

His hand beckons you as he tucks the phone between his chin and shoulder. You slide back into his lap and put the phone on Speaker.

“It’s good to finally talk with you, Joel.” It's the gruff drawl of Danny Cain, extremely-former heavyweight champ. “My guys and I have been sniffin’ after you for a while now.”

Joel draws little rings over your spine with his fingers, connecting them like links on a chain. “Y’know, I used to watch your fights as Genesis all the time with my pops before he went.”

You nip his ear over the subtle dig. “Listen, man, after the ratings you drew in for the fight against that idiot kid the other night, it’d be idiotic not to put you up against David.”

Your brows lift suggestively, and Joel’s teeth gleam in the relative darkness as the corner of his mouth pulls up in a crooked smile. “That so?”

A brief pause. You picture Cain’s chest deflating in a cold sigh, frost creeping over all that he breathes on. “That's so. Ratings gold, and we’re willing to split the difference on travel if you're willing to meet in the middle. Crowd’ll go crazy to see the biggest names in heavyweight knock skulls. If you agree, I’ll be calling your agent.”

Joel’s grin widens, calluses playing upon the soft flesh of your inner thigh, inching his way under your dress. “My agent will be mighty pleased to hear from you,” he says, punctuated by a firm press of his palm to your warm core. “Better be nice to her. She can be a real biter if you ain't careful.”

You grasp his wrist and use his hand to pull your panties aside, bringing two of his fingers to swipe through your slit. Joel watches them emerge glistening, eyes slits beneath his lashes, as Cain says, “Gonna need a yes or no from you, Miller.”

Joel’s gaze is hawklike as you bring his fingers to your mouth and slide your tongue along their length. “Yeah.” His voice is coarse as the white scarring over his knuckles. “Yeah, you got yourself a deal.”

Cain grunts his approval, and you both clock the gentle scratching of pen on paper. “Is your agent around to talk now, or should I wait ‘til later?”

You lift your brows, sealing your lips over his fingers, letting them slide, hot and wet, down your throat. You taste the tang of your arousal, blooming outward from your core as Joel’s free hand greedily bunches the fabric of your dress. You’re pressed flush to his chest, your tongue licking sweat and slick from his fingertips.

“Sorry, Danny, my agent’s got her mouth full at the moment. Can’t quite talk.”

Joel’s pupils are puffy in the darkness. Your body is illuminated by the small window in Fred’s office. He likes it when he's swallowed by black. You're the one who looks best in the light, anyway. “Later’s good. Lookin’ forward to takin’ down your Preacher.”

“Careful, Miller. Ego like that will get you in trouble,” says Cain.

“Ego’s got me this far,” says Joel. He’s stopped listening. “See you in confessional.”

And he hangs up the phone, yanking you around the waist so you're straddling his hips, sitting nice and pretty on his lap, his fattening length sitting heavy against his thigh.

Your smile is a wicked, crawling shiver that begins at his tailbone and creeps upward. “You Godless bastard.”

“Tell me all about it,” he says, reaching around your body and shucking your skirt up around your hips. “C’mere.”

You bite down on your grin, cupping his cheek in your palm and kissing him. Joel capitalises on his chance to swallow you whole, prying your mouth open, sliding his tongue along yours, his palms sliding up your arms, conjuring goosebumps.

“My beautiful girl,” he groans, nipping hungrily at your bottom lip. “My perfect, sweet, mean fuckin’ girl. Gonna take down that goddamn Preacher. Gonna take you to Italy.”

“Mmm, Italy.” You sigh happily against him, tasting memory. Gelato and baked ziti. Suntanning on white sand. Rolling around beneath fresh linens and lounging, catlike, on beach chairs, a drink always in hand. The cloying coconut notes of sunscreen and the supple flesh of your ass as he took his time rubbing it all in. “I miss Italy.”

Joel preens at the sound of you practically purring, your body flowering for him, nuances hidden in the slight swirling of your hips, the greedy fistfuls you take of the hair at the nape of his neck. He tilts his chin up, drinking down the proximity of you, your skin silk and perfume and memories of years he’s given you. Your lust-soaked pupils expand, wet and rimmed red near your waterline, desperation you will not vocalise. He watches you teeter on the precipice of your pride and pulls you closer, priming your body to tip sweetly over the edge.

You gasp into his mouth as he hooks his fingers beneath the straps on your shoulders and abruptly yanks down the top of your dress. The fabric pools at the flare of your waist, your nipples stiffening as your tits confront cool air. Joel’s eyes droop, black as pitch, watching the light shift over your heaving chest.

Your breath catches when he touches you. And his hands are there, because they must be, because there is no other choice, curling around your ribs, thumbs brushing the supple swell of your breasts. The shiver wrecks you, coiled tight around your spine, your underwear dampening. You sit right atop his thick, persistent length, grinding absentmindedly to relieve the pressure winding around your stomach, and the fact that you’re in Fred’s office becomes a microcosm of you-and-Joel. There is nothing but.

Joel studies you like he’ll be tested: eyes following the path of his hands, he does not once blink, that suffocating black gaze cupping hot wax over your belly, letting the makeshift bowl tip out in increments. He knows how to keep you alight just long enough to turn needy, desperate, close to inhuman.

“Baby,” you croak, watching the callused tips of his fingers meet your nipples, pinching softly, not quite enough to hurt, just enough to feel it in the steady dripdripdrip of your arousal. You’re pooling in your panties, heady and warm and too-big for this small, small room. Need pushes outward against the walls, boxing you in tight, locking you in gravity with his body.

Joel clicks his tongue. “Be nice ‘n’ quiet, now. Fred’ll have a bird.”

“Oh, please.” Fred doesn’t know half the things you’ve done in his office. You grind down on Joel’s erection and watch his bared teeth glimmer. You need him now.

Head swimming, honeyed and slow, Joel languidly nuzzles his face between your breasts, alternating between soft licks and playful bites. Your sternum is electrified, your bare skin humming for his touch. Joel cups the scruff of your neck in his rough hand and leaves open-mouthed kisses from your throat to your jaw. You moan, your head lolling backward, cradled safely in his palm, pushing out your breasts to give him better access. He grins, chest puffing up, leaving a deeper-than-usual imprint of his teeth in your pulse point. Your answering shudder, your throaty little groan, your tug on his hair, bordering on painful, please him to no end. His cock twitches underneath you, aching to be freed.

“Actually, baby, go ahead and be as loud as you like. I sign his checks.”

Your reproach is halfhearted, muffled in his throat, the echo of the fightin’ bell vibrating low in your body. “I sign his checks,” you point out, nibbling his earlobe, your fingers tugging his too-long curls. He needs a cut before his next fight.

Joel chuckles, pressing his fingers to your clit over your ruined panties. “You need me in here? Need me nice ‘n’ deep?”

You moan like a whore at the friction, hips bucking. You pulse uselessly, emptily, the slow grind of your clit along his length not enough. “Joel, please… fuck, I need… need you inside. Please fuck me, honey, please. I’ll die if you don’t fuck me.”

“Oh, baby,” he says mockingly, shifting your panties to the side and sliding his fingers through your soaked slit. “So fuckin’ wet. Poor baby girl needs a mean old man to show her a good time.”

Your eyes are frenzied, wild, sweat glistening at your temples. You nod frantically, your hand dipping between your bodies to squeeze his cock over his shorts. Joel grunts, fisting your hair. “I need it,” you mewl. “Fuck, I need it. Need your big fucking cock. You’re so big.”

The harsh rapping of knuckles on Fred’s office door deters neither of you. Still grinding, still palming at him, you don’t stop, arousal clouding your judgement. “Dirty fuckin’ girl,” Joel grits out. “He’s right outside. You wanna make him mad?”

You whine. You don’t want to piss off Fred—not really.

But you’re nodding anyway, rocking yourself against him, puffing out incomplete wisps of his name that dissipate as smoke on the air.

The knocking escalates, now desperate.

“I swear to God,” shouts Fred, pounding hard on his door, “if you two don’t stop right now, I’m banning the both of you for fucking life.”

Joel groans, letting Fred hear it, his forehead resting against yours. “Goddammit.”

You pout, hips slowing to a crawl on his lap. Your core is still tightly-wound, his erection no less firm against your inner thigh, but the moment has passed. For now.

“Later,” you whisper.

He gives your tits a fond squeeze before he helps you secure your straps back over your shoulders.

Later.

“Just like that, baby. Good. That’s a good girl.”

“It doesn’t feel right, Joel.”

“That’s because you’ve never done it before. It’ll take time. Now, c’mon, arms up.”

You huff, raising your fists the way he’s taught you, letting him adjust your stance as he circles you. “Higher,” he says plainly. You obey, your left hand obscuring your face; Joel curls his own fist around it and untucks your thumb. “Thought I taught you how to throw a good punch. What’s this?” He wiggles your thumb.

Your Joel is all business when it comes to self-defence. Your face warms as he puts his hands on your waist to shift your feet, but he’s clinical. He doesn’t let you steal a kiss or flirt your way out of a lesson.

Plenty of time for that once I know you’re safe, he says. Bastard.

“That’s good, baby. Much better.” And fuck it all, his praises make you a little more pliant to his commands, buzzing with the prospect of finally getting him into bed tonight. If you listen, you’ll get out sooner, and you’ll get his dick. You cycle your mantra in your head as Joel lifts his naked palms to you.

“Now,” he says, “you ready to fight?”

You glare. “Not before you announce me.”

The grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. He may be stern about your teachings, but he’s a sucker, and he’s always been.

Joel raises his voice to a rare boom, alerting those few stragglers still packing up their gear around the pair of you. “You know her. You love her. If you don’t, you better check your goddamn priorities. You wanna see her kick some ass.” He’s cupping his hands over his mouth and mimicking the roar of the crowd. “She’s The Agent, and she’ll sign your contract… for termination.”

A few stray whoops and whistles erupt from the meagre crowd. You take an extravagant, swooping bow and bring your fists back up at the ready.

“C’mon, now. Show me what you've got,” says Joel, clapping his palms together and presenting them for you to punch. “Keep your guard up.”

You only waver for a moment, and you’re certain he sees the frown that ticks across your brow. “I don't wanna—”

Joel shakes his head, beckoning you with a flick of his fingers. “You can't hurt me, baby. C’mon. Be mean. Be a killer.”

Your face screws up in concentration as you aim a blow at his palm. You’re thrown off balance more than he, who barely budges. He steadies you with a hand at your waist and merely repositions you to hit him again. The only satisfaction you find is in the demarcated circle of tender pink that’s begun to grow where your punch landed.

“Not bad, if you could stay upright,” says Joel.

“Do you want to get your dick inside me tonight, Miller, or would you prefer to sleep on the couch?”

His crooked smile ignites your competitive side. “Hit me again.”

“I was put on this earth to be pretty and shout at people, Joel. I was not meant to fight. That’s why you’re here.”

“And you do a beautiful job, baby. Now, hit me.”

Throwing less of your body and more of your arm into the second blow, you manage to strike at his hand hard enough to rock it backward. He grunts his approval and nods for you to go again. “Don’t overextend your arm. You’ll pull somethin’ that way. Keep it tight to your body, block your precious organs, and hit me nice ‘n’ controlled.”

You’re alarmed by the low pitch of his voice as he instructs you, the timbre pulling taut at your core. It’s the same tone he uses when he wants to direct your body, mould you the way he likes, make you bend to the shape that pleases him best. Your fist tightens and you hit him again.

For making me wet at the gym, you asshole.

You throw another punch, remembering to keep your arm tucked in, your gut protected, and a satisfying groan rumbles in his chest.

“That’s it, baby.”

You’ve backed him into the corner of the ring, his spine on the ropes, your knuckles stinging from impact after impact until—

“All right, killer,” he says, closing his hand around your fist when you land your final punch. “That’s enough. Your knuckles are gonna split, and it’s my job to be the bloody one. Right?”

Your chest glistens with a thin smattering of sweat, your noses mere inches apart as he sweeps his gaze over your weary body and licks his bottom lip. Your mouth opens as if to catch the breath he lets go.

He brings your sore hand to his mouth. “Home?” he says gruffly.

His moustache bristles around the crest of your knuckle, mouth pursed to slot perfectly in place. There are few spaces he could occupy that don’t feel as right as this.

His mouth is on you before you’ve turned the key to the front door of your home. He stumbles with you in his grasp, his hard chest flush to your back, walking you toward the bedroom with little ceremony. He’s feverish in the way he mouths wetly at your throat from behind, his fingers splayed over your belly to maintain his own balance. Still, his desire is clumsy, staggering, his other hand kneading your ass despite the fact that it’s wedged between your bodies.

“Easy, Texas,” you laugh. It turns breathless as he sucks on your pulse, his hot mouth drawing blood to the surface just beneath your jaw, the hairs of his moustache tickling your sensitive skin. Your hand flies back, burying your fingers in his locks, as Joel’s grabby hands fiddle with the straps of your dress.

“Want it off,” he grumbles.

You coax him with a couple slow downs while he fumbles with the fabric, and he just shakes his head. “No. Want it off. Lift.”

“Caveman.” You roll your eyes, raising your arms above your head to placate him. He tugs your dress up and over your head, tousling your hair in the process, reaching around your body to squeeze your tits in his hands.

Another laugh bubbles up. “No taking it slow tonight?”

He lands a smack on your ass. “Fuck that. Bend over.”

Your shared bedroom boasts a California King, a smattering of houseplants (your idea—for fresh air), and a mirror on the ceiling, directly above the bed. That was Joel’s idea.

Giggling, you lower yourself over the mattress as he drops to his knees behind you, kissing all the way down your spine, mouthing at the small of your back, hands roving and groping. He squeezes your hips, pinning you against the mattress, his hot breath lifting the hairs on your skin. His lips are wet, warm, pliant against your core—and you choke when he slathers his tongue over your panty-covered asshole, his huge arms hugging your thighs around his ears.

“Joel, holy fuck. Oh my God—”

He bites into the flesh of your ass, his fingers sliding achingly slow up your inner thigh. Your mouth hangs open, cheek pressed to the mattress, as he slides your panties aside and licks a hungry stripe between your folds.

“Ohhhh, God, baby, yeah. Yeah, keep going. Please keep going.”

And he may be a complete asshole, but he’s nothing if not indulgent—so he yanks down your panties, grabs you by the hips, and roughly turns you on your back.

“Keep goin’?” he says gruffly, pressing his middle and ring fingers to your tight hole. “Then look up and watch yourself come in that mirror, baby.”

You shudder, tilting your chin up to catch your own eye in the mirror on the ceiling. It’s fucking obscene to see yourself spread out on the bed, Joel lying between your thighs, your chest rising and falling in the dim light of your twin orange lamps. You watch his hand creep up your belly, pressing gently on your sternum as if to anchor you in place, and a whimper leaves your mouth when he dips his head to taste you.

His fingers slide through your wetness and stretch open your cunt as he laps lazily at your clit, keeping you malleable and relaxed and soaking-fucking-wet. Your back arches into his rough palm, a crescendo of Joel oozing from the corners of your mouth. He hums, adding to the chorus, his fingers’ percussive rhythm (in-out, in-out, punctuated by a tortuous curl against your sweetest spot) dragging out the song of your pleasure. He’s an expert by now. A fucking maestro.

“Ahh, yes, right there,” you gasp, your fingers threading through his hair, “rightthererightthererightthere! Yes, yes!”

You squeeze him as he fucks you with his fingers, relentless in the pursuit of his victory, your high. His lips, briefly mesmerised by the crease where your thigh meets your hip, now migrate to your pussy, flattening between your folds and flicking at your pearly wet clit. In the mirror above your head, you see the flutter of your thighs, the intake of breath, the greedy curl of your hand in his locks.

He’s going to fucking kill you.

You taste iron and realise you’ve bit your lip. Joel, of course, occupied by your pretty clit but spying to make sure you’re still watching your reflection, spots it, and slides his hand to your throat, squeezing gently at the pulse points on both sides before he slips the pad of his thumb past your bottom lip.

You moan around him, your jaw forced open, blood smearing around the tip of his thumb, mingled with saliva. It blinds you, the fucking filth of it, as he removes his thumb only to hook his hand around your chin and flatten two fingers to your tongue.

He likes to open you up this way. Your body takes him in so readily, happily sucking on the fingers in your mouth and squeezing down on those in your pussy like a goddamn bear trap. His healing knuckles sting from the sensation of being trapped deep inside you, where he fucking belongs. Tongue lapping at your clit, a cat to milk, Joel watches as your body begins to writhe underneath him, your eyes still dutifully fixed on the mirror, and he knows.

He knows exactly the tells you begin to display for him: the hitch of your breath halfway up your throat, the way it hollows in a little pool, the perpetual grinding of your hips against his face. Your stomach is tightening, your cunt slick with the relentless push-pull of his fingers.

He removes his mouth briefly from your clit, using the heel of his palm instead, letting you roll your hips up against him. “Gonna come, baby?” he asks, a little breathless, eyes wild and black.

You nod, whining, your fingers tugging at his scalp until tears prickle in his ducts. He groans, biting into your thigh, and watches as your pussy convulses, a drop of your own wetness splashing onto his forearm.

A minute tick of his brow.

Oh, yeah. He knows.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath, the frothy slick of your arousal webbing between his fingers. “Yeah, you’re gonna fuckin’ come. You’re gonna get me all fuckin’ wet with this creamy pussy, baby.” He grins at the sight of the tears slipping from your eyes, your eager sucking as you take his fingers down your throat. “You’re gonna watch yourself squirt. You hear me?”

Your thighs twitch, your hips bucking in his hand, and he feels fucking strong. He feels like the goddamn winner.

He takes his fingers from your mouth so he can hear your cries, your bruised lips spilling over with molten gold pleas and chants. It’s garbled, it’s nonsense, you’re coming—

And Joel, the fucking asshole, gets you there with a smile on his face, his palm rubbing hard against your needy clit, his fingers curling into the spot that forces the pressure up, up, out…

“Thaaat’s it, baby. Soak me, c’mon. Get me all wet.”

“Joel, Joel, Joel, ffffffffffuck—”

It’s the intermittent hiss of a pressure-release valve, your juices splattering onto Joel’s chin, glistening obscenely in the hairs on his chest, your hips bucking wildly against his face. He growls into you, his hand pressing down on your belly as he fucks his fingers in and out, in and out, the filthy shlick of your wet cunt warming your cheeks. Joel’s mouth is latched to your hypersensitive clit as you writhe beneath him, lengthening the torture just enough to make you scream, your thighs suffocating him.

More wetness spurts from your cunt as Joel retracts his fingers. Crawling back up your body with gentle kisses to your soft, sweat-slick skin, he pulls you slowly back into yourself, no longer staring absently at yourself in the mirror but blinking up at him, a sleepy smile crinkling the corners of your eyes.

“Knew you could do it,” he says with a crooked grin.

You smack his shoulder. “You're such a dick,” you croak.

“That any way to say thank you, baby girl?” Joel takes your nipple between his teeth and playfully swats your other breast.

You tug his hair. “Joel!”

“Not quite.” He presses his lips to your sternum, his hands kneading your tits.

Your moan is soft and sighing, your hips wiggling underneath him with what little room you have. “Mmm, yeah. Like that, baby. Touch me.”

“All I ever wanna do”—his mouth moves, carving a path to your jaw, the strong curve of his nose tilting your chin up so you’re forced to watch yourself in the mirror once more—“is touch you.”

His dick is a heavy, throbbing weight in his shorts, which he shucks down with little ceremony, tossing aside his shirt and socks so he can hover, skin-to-skin, above your body.

Briefly, he studies you, swiping your tears away with his thumb, his arm flexing next to your head. You smile through your daze, cupping his cheek in your palm. The prickling of his beard makes an imprint on your skin as he nuzzles your hand.

“Your turn to watch,” you whisper, brushing the pad of your thumb across his chin. “Lie on your back.”

Joel rolls you on top of him, sitting atop his length, hot and pulsing beneath your messy cunt. You place your hands on his chest, gently rolling your hips. Joel groans, his hands flying to your hips.

“Jesus, baby.”

“You need someone to take care of you, Texas.” Your hands caress his chest, the rippling muscles of his biceps, the taper of his waist. “You worked hard today. You signed a deal.”

“You signed a deal. Shit—” His voice breaks as you take a playful bite of his throat, smacking your flank in feeble retribution. “Shit, baby. Sit on my dick.”

“You wanna come?” You grind down on him, coaxing precum out of his tip and cleaning it off his belly with your finger. Joel watches with lidded eyes as you spread it around your used clit. “Watch the mirror, baby.”

With your guidance, your nose tilting his chin skyward, Joel obeys, admiring the curve of your naked spine in the mirror, the way your body undulates on top of him. You're a fucking vision. He’s void of a reason you’d pick him, but your reverent hands are trailing up and down his muscled torso, and Joel doesn't give a fuck why as long as you keep choosing him.

You finally reach between your bodies and sink down to the hilt. He bares his teeth, fingers ironclad around your hips. You’re careful in your study of him as you lift yourself up and drop back down, admiring the cut of his jaw as he keeps his head angled toward the mirror.

And fuck, he stretches you—wrenched open around him, you’re consumed, filled to the throat, ruined, and Joel’s pleading with you to move, baby, but you don't know if you can. Your thighs tremble with the effort, your body weak from your orgasm, and you feel you’ve all but failed him until his hands begin to slide up your spine and pull you down, flush to his chest.

“Just like this,” he says into your ear, wrapping his fist around your hair. “C’mon, baby. Ride me just like this.”

Your teeth latch onto his shoulder as you bob up and down on his dick, eliciting precisely the strained groans you want to hear from him. “That's it,” he huffs, his mouth perpetually open, sliding against your temple.

He's still watching you writhe in the foggy mirror, the delicious dips and planes of your figure haloed by the fuzzy light pooling in the room. His cock twitches inside you, hot and wet and so fucking tight, your chests sliding together with the rhythmic dance of your joined bodies.

It's a tangle of limbs and extremities and it smells like the musk of sweat, sex, perfume still lingering. It's the dizzying scent of your shampoo. It's your mewling cries of his name as you ride him like a spoiled fucking princess. His balls pull tight, his head swimming, spiralling with the feel of you so warm and soft in his arms.

Joel’s tongue loosens, his high a foregone conclusion. “You wanted to ride me in that chair today. Ain't that right, baby girl? You wanted to get fucked all loose right out in the open. I’d do it. I’d sit you right on my dick in front of everyone else and let ‘em see how fuckin’ pretty you are when you come. None of ‘em could touch. All of ‘em wanna fuck you. They think you’re so goddamn pretty, so tight and soft. You wanna show ‘em?”

You suddenly seize, your hands grasping his hair, face buried in his throat, and you're gushing. You're fucking squirting again, and it’s everywhere: beading in the trail of hair on his belly, dripping down his balls, smearing between your bodies as you continue to ride him in the haze of your climax.

“Oh, Jesus. Goddamn—shit—”

Joel groans, his eyes at last shuttering as his arms wind around your body to clutch you tight. Teeth bared against your cheek, he pumps you full. It's hot, sticky, messy. It’ll need a change of bedsheets. It wrings every ounce of energy from his bones and fogs up the mirror until you're both smudges of skin and hair.

You begin to giggle, your face hidden in the crook of his neck, your entire body trembling. Joel isn't sure what's funny, but he starts to laugh in tandem.

“Gotta clean you up,” he mumbles, absently pressing kisses along your jaw. “Made a fuckin’ mess, baby.”

“Hmph. I’ll think about it.” You’re settling in for a winter’s nap, it seems, tucking yourself into his side. Joel caresses your back, delighted by the thrilling little shivers that visibly travel up your spine.

His ears stop ringing after a minute or two. He stares up at the mirror for twice as long as that as clarity begins to seep back into the glass from the corners. Your lashes flutter against his bare skin every time you blink.

“Do you really think I can beat him?”

The question lingers long after it's asked, the way smoke from a candle still swirls after it's burned out.

You make a soft sound of acknowledgement. “What makes you think you can’t?”

“He’s a good fighter. Don’t matter that he’s an asshole.”

Your soft, melodic hum tells him you're falling asleep. “Funny. I say the same thing about you all the time.”

“Just…” He swallows. “Just promise me somethin’.”

You lift your head, eyes alert and blinking. “Promise me that we’ll be good,” he says tightly. “That we could lose it all right now, right this second, and we’d still be okay. You’d still be here.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow. He wants to wipe away the gash between your brows. “I must not have done a very good job of lovin’ you if you really think I’d leave,” you say sweetly, your fingers trailing up and down his arm. “I’m in your corner, Texas. And it’s not just because you need me. We don’t need a big house and a pool and a home gym. We never used to have any of that.”

You’re smiling now, eyes glittering in the relative darkness. Joel exhales, and his entire body shudders as if plucking out his lungs and lending them to you.

“I’ll love you when you win, and I’ll love you if you lose,” you tell him. “You’re my guy.”

Joel nods: a simple tip of his head. He doesn't need much more than that.

He may not need to win, but for you, for this, he will.

#kiwisbell's fics #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller fluff #boxer!joel #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #tlou fic

2K notes · View notes

talaok · 7 months

Text

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'"

2K notes · View notes

ja3honey · 5 months

Text

♡ 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐬 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐉𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 ♡

【Synopsis】 : Your boyfriend just wanted to give you an early Christmas present.

『Word count』 : 5.3k

-> Genre: Pure smut with little plot, hehe.

Pairing: Boyfriend!San x Reader [SeongJoong x Reader]

[Warnings] : Reader is insecure. Foursome. Powerplay. Pet names [Angel, Bunny, Baby, Sweet Thing.] Light Choking. Kissing, Neck kisses. Body worship. Anxious thoughts. Some self-doubt, but the boys take lots of care of the reader. Possessive San. Voyeur San. Seonghwa likes to call reader whore but in a sweet way. Spanking. Dom!SeongSanJoong. Unprotected sex. Very subby Reader. Subspace. Dry humping. Oral. Use of the word slut. Daddy kink. MxM. San is secretly a switch/bottom. Creampie. Multiple orgasms. Squirting. Brat taming. Sharing is caring. Dirty talk. Deep throating. I was drunk when I wrote half of this, so bare with me...

Note: Hi, Hi! Ahh, this fic is finally done. Hehe. I spent early hours in the morning, and one night after, i drank way too much vodka heh. So if there is anything weird. Uhh, blame drunk me. Also! This is most likely the last fic I'll be posting for 2023. So that's crazy. I'll still be around but I'm going to a wedding, so I won't be near my computer. Ahhh

Also, thank you so much to the wonderful @fandems for helping make this masterpiece come to life. I hope you enjoy the read, darling. ♡♡

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“Okay, okay. I’ll be there soon.” You hummed hearing your boyfriend whine about how much he misses you and how he wanted to see you try on the hoodie in person. He and the others were currently staying at some hotel just outside Seoul for a shoot they were doing, and his mom had brought hoods she made with each of their names on it. Of course, she made one for you as well. Saying it was not up for debate even though you tried to decline, saying it was just ‘for the boys’.

“Please hurry. I miss you so much.” His blunt whimpers caused a stir in your tummy when you first heard them. You had to stop yourself from complaining about how he was making you wet from his voice alone. So, instead, you thought it would be cute to dress up a bit. Wear something a little more revealing. A nice crop top and shorts. Yes, that was a nice idea. Of course, since it was cold out and you weren't about to walk around Seoul in next to nothing anyways, so, you covered yourself with a large overcoat that draped all the way for to your knees. It was an early Christmas gift from Hongjoong. Which made your heart flutter when he gave it to you. You didn’t expect a gift from any of the members, really. But when Hongjoong brought you the gift while you were cuddling with San on the couch in the studio, you couldn’t help but blush. Or another time when he and Seonghwa brought you food when you were sick when they dropped off San at your apartment. Or when it was just the four of you chilling out at your place while watching a random film.

Everything just felt right.

You tried to hide your feelings towards the other two men, but it was growing harder after each interaction. They were so kind to you. They cared for you. And it made you feel like you were on cloud nine when they were around. San has made jokes in the past about you having a crush on his members, but you always brushed it off so he wouldn't feel bad. You love San, you really do. He was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. But there was just something about Hongjoong and Seonghwa that you just couldn’t shake.

“Okay, I’m out the front. I’m gonna hang up now,” you said goodbye quickly before heading for the entrance of the hotel. San had already mentioned to the front desk clerk that you would show up, so they had a key waiting for you and everything. Standing in the elevator, you suddenly felt your nerves tingle. What if he just wanted to cuddle for a bit, give you the gift, and then kick you out. Or worse.. what if San wasn’t in the mood for some dirty antics?

Who are you kidding, he’s always in the mood.

But that still didn’t calm your shaky hands as you reached for the door handle while you scanned the key card against the lock. The room was silent.. the smell of musk caught your attention, making it known San had recently showered using the new body wash you had bought him. “H-Hello.”

You walked inside, locking the door behind you. Slipping off your shoes, you also placed your coat on the rack next to the entrance. Feeling the warmth of the hotel heating creep up on you. You walked slowly further into the little apartment. The only light was the ones from the city below and a side light next to a bed. Strange? “S-Sannie? Are you here…”

“Hello, angel.” A deep chuckle caught you off guard as a pair of hands gripped your waist suddenly. The light gasps that left your lips made the unknown male sigh in satisfaction, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You know his cologne. This voice. That chuckle.

“J-Joong?” You were shaking, but not out of fear but excitement. You felt like you had walked straight into a dream. A different reality even. You had to kick yourself for falling so quickly for the man who wasn’t your lover. Your eyes snapped open, and a breath was hitched. What were you doing?! you couldn’t do this. Not when you were with San. “Wait. Hongjoong.” You tried to pull out of Joong’s tight grasp, your voice sounding more stern and clear.

“awe, come on, Angel. I’m only playing.” He let you go suddenly, letting the tension of your hips push you forward, tripping, until you slammed into something broad. A tall, warm body. Your hands gripped the man's shoulders while he pulled you flushed against his chest by your waist.

“S-San…” You whimper, feeling guilt cloud your judgment. Hot breath tickled your ear lobe before a deep voice sent shivers down your spine;

“Guess again, Bunny.” Your body completely tenses up hearing Seonghwa’s sombre smooth voice. The same voice he uses when he makes the calming ASMR videos. God, you could fall asleep peacefully to this man just simply talking. Or humming. Wait, no, stop.

“W-Where’s San. He needs to give m-me─A personalized hoodie.” Your words get cut off by none other than your lover, San. His ravenous chuckle made your mouth water. What were these three trying to do to you? Send you into an early grave. “I thought we could have a little fun before I give you the gift.”

You can hear lusts dripping from his voice. But yet you still couldn’t see anything. Your eyes have not adjusted to the dark room, but San was clearly behind you while your face and body were still firmly against Seonghwa’s chest. “We want the city to see just how good you can be.” Seonghwa sounded more dominant than San. His alluring aura made you want to stink to your knees and do whatever he wished. You were trembling against him, which he no doubtfully felt. And without a word being spoken. He let you go, leaving you standing, alone, in the dark. You were about to protest when all of a sudden you felt familiar arms snake around you, pulling you flush against him. San nuzzled his face in your neck, giving you some light kisses, trying his best to calm your nerves.

In truth, San, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong had many conversations about you. One more dirtier than the last. It first started with San gloating about how you were so good for him. How you would walk around in nothing but his hoodies and how he always got a nice look at your plump ass. Another time, he brought up the fact that you were an excellent dick sucker. He swore he could nut just from your mouth alone. This, of course, made the other men jealous. How dare San have you all to himself when they all know very well the way you look at them. The way your thighs clench whenever Hwa or Joong would accidentally touch you. You were just as needy as they were. “You gonna be a good girl, baby?”

San’s lips latched onto your neck, sucking a harsh purple mark. You still couldn’t see your surroundings, but you could feel, other than San's hands that were still on your waist, another pair of hands gripped a hand full of your plump thighs. You felt a whimper brew in your throat as San’s hands snaked up towards your chest, letting his fingertips graze just under your breasts. The unknown male's set of hands that were still perched on your thighs slowly moved upwards until they were tugging your legs apart, slowly tugging your shorts off. The dark chuckle from below made you realize the man who was holding your legs was crouched in front of you. With his head so close to where you need care the most. “S-Sann..”

“Uh, Uh. Answer the question, baby. Are you going to be a good girl for all three of us?” His hot breath tickled your earlobe, making your mind spin. Your hand reached down, finding a soft head of fluffy locks, your fingers tangling in them, pulling him closer to your heated core. Your other hand grasps San’s shoulder, pushing him towards your neck once more.

“Please, sir.” You whined loudly, earning a groan from all three men, making you realize the last male was also standing behind you. San mutters something you didn’t bother listening to as suddenly felt a set of teeth bite down on your inner thigh, making you gasp in a high pitch. “Oh my god!”

The man between your legs snickered, pulling your panties to the side so he could press his nose against your soaked cunt. “That’s right bunny. I’m your god.” Seonghwa’s voice was so deep, filling with lust at each breath. You had to moan from his words, knowing full well how much of a god complex Seonghwa had. Your fingers tugged tighter on his hair, earning a low growl from that man. You were about to say something but your voice got caught in your throat as San’s hand wrapped perfectly around your neck, squeezing tight enough that it got your head spinning.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t a god Seonghwa.” San’s cheeky mumble caused the man between your legs to huff, rolling his eyes as he went back to licking a strip along your fold. His fingers play with your entrance, pushing his tongue against your sensitive clit making you gasp out yet again, ‘Oh my god’, which made Seonghwa chuckle lowly.

“She says differently there, Sannie.” The vibration of Seonghwa’s voice made you clench around his lone finger. San’s hand got tighter around your neck, pulling you backwards so you were bent in a weird position, looking at San with a shocked expression.

“Baby. Don’t start being a brat. I’m your sir, and this is Hwa and Joong. Go it!” He spat out, annoyance lacing on his tongue. Your hazy eyes looked up at him with sorrow. You pouted slightly, knowing exactly how to play San’s games.

“I’m sorry, sir. Please forgive me.” You whimpered trying to keep your eyes open but it was becoming increasingly harder as you feel Seonghwa add another finger into your wet pussy. San just scoffed before telling Seonghwa to move. You cried from the loss of contact but since Hwa is such a people pleaser, he slowly kissed up your body, collar and neck before whispering in your ear;

“Don’t worry my obedient little whore. I’ll treat you soon enough.” San didn’t respond this time, just scoffing before letting you go. Your knees buckled trying to keep yourself upright. But a new pair of hands grabbed you, letting you lean against a hard chest.

“Hey there, angel, ready for some fun?” Hongjoong’s voice was higher pitched than the others, but it still held the same authority if not more. You nodded with a quick ‘yes’ letting the male chuckle at how obedient you are. San had turned on the bedside lamps, letting the dim orange hue shine through the room, letting you see the three men for the first time tonight. Seonghwa’s hair was a mess from your fingers, lips glistening from your slick. God, as if he couldn’t get any more hot, there he was in all his egotistical glory.

“Baby. Stand you for us. And take off your shirt.” San said, nonchalantly, while downing a glass of liquor from the dry bar in the corner of the hotel room. You gulp slowly, taking off your shirt, leaving you in your bra. You became all too aware that you were only in your underwear in front of three very powerful men. You weren’t the thinnest either, so your insecurities started being placed on full alert. Seonghwa seemed to notice first, moving so he was flushed against you, chest to chest. he gave you the warmest smile before dipping his head in closer. His nose was grazing against yours, his lips almost close enough to touch. You had no idea if you were allowed to kiss him or Hongjoong, but given his face was between your legs only minutes ago, what harm would it entail?

Seonghwa gave you a surprised groan as he felt your plump lips. His tongue slipped effortlessly into your mouth like it was made to do just that. You could taste yourself on him, which caused a whimper to escape. His hands gripped your bare hips tightly, holding you so close that you could feel his bulge against your thigh. San was watching the situation unfold in front of him, biting his bottom lip at just how submissive you can quickly become around the three of them. How almost normal it felt. San gave a little whistle for Hongjoong to join in, while he took a seat on a large seat that sits by the window, gifting him the perfect view of the show you were so eagerly putting on.

“Play nice with her. Or I’ll never let you touch her again.” San’s voice was stern and controlling. But man, did it make you shiver. You knew if you wanted to be rough or slow you would use your safe word or the traffic light system and you were also damn sure that San drilled it into the other two’s heads before this little ordeal. So you knew you were in a completely safe environment, and this was all for the thrill.

“You hear that, Bunny. Sannie thinks we can’t play nice.” Seonghwa mumbles against your lips before moving down to kiss your cheek, jaw, and neck.

“He thinks we’re gonna get too rough with you.” Hongjoong grabs a fist full of your breasts squeezing tightly, drawing out a choked moan from you. His lips grazed your ear before biting softly on your ear lobe. Your nerves felt like they were on fire with the way these two tag teamed you. Like they had practised many times for this moment. “But you like it rough don’t you, angel?”

��Yeah, you like it when you're manhandled. Thrown around like a pleasure whore. Hmm?” Seonghwa nipped at your collarbone causing a yelp to escape you. The two of them just chuckled, knowing exactly how to tease you from hearing detail after detail of San explaining how much of a subby little fuck toy you are for him.

"Please, Da-Hongjoong... touch me." You whimpered, almost calling him something other than his name. Even though San said not to call them anything other than what he gave you. Yet you had the biggest urge to disobey.

"But am I touching you, angel?" Hongjoong knew what he was doing. He needed you to break, spill all your dirty secrets out before he touched you. But Seonghwa, on the other hand, all he wanted to do was make you squirm until overdrive. His hands gripping at any part of exposed flesh, his hot tongue licking along your neck, while he suckles yet another red and purple mark. You were most certain that you had leaked through your panties and down your leg by now. Your brain clouded, and all judgement slipped slowly into your subspace as two pairs of lips find the most sensitive spots on your neck and collarbone.

“F-Fuckk.” You swore, tilting your head back against Hongjoong’s shoulder. Seonghwa’s hand dipped into the top of your panties siding his fingers down through your soaking cunt. Hongjoong on the other hand, tugged on your bra until your breasts spilled out the top of it. His fingers pinched your peaked nipples while Seonghwa start to slowly fuck two fingers in you, stretching you out nicely. Both men didn’t stop their assault on your neck, littering your skin with bright marks and bites. You hazily hummed, opening your eyes to see San sitting with his lips parted and his hand palming his crotch. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Such a potty mouth, Bunny.” Seonghwa laughed pushing a third finger inside you while his palm rests on your clit perfectly. “I wonder what other filthy things you can say sweet things.”

“Oh, she can say many filthy things.” San’s voice made you jump, not realizing you had your eyes closed and San had moved to stand next to you, completely trapping you in the middle of all three of them. “You just gotta know what buttons to press.”

San gripped Seonghwa’s wrist, tugging it out of your cunt making you yelp. His hands grabbed your hips before literally ripping your panties to shreds, letting the pieces of fabric fall to the floor. San’s hand gave your ass cheek as loud, harsh slap making you fall forward towards the perfectly made bed. “Come on baby. Shake that pretty thing for us.” You lazily wiggle your ass, letting the three men stare at your plump cake and leaking cunt. You felt humiliated in the best way possible, wanting nothing but the approval of the men behind you.

San stood behind you, pressing his clothed crotch against your ass, grinding slowly. You choked, feeling the rough fabric of his pants against your skin. His fingers gripping your waist tight enough, it threatened to draw blood, while his hips pulled away before snapping back on your ass. He was thrusted against you dry. Railing you up, causing you to slip into your subspace. “What do you need, baby? Tell us what you want.” He thrusted with. Every. Word.

“I w-wan…” You whimper, feeling tears swell in your eyes, your fingers tangling into the white sheets. “I want you, sir, please.”

A sharp pain shot down your nerves as you felt Sans's hand smack your ass. “You can do better. What. Do. You. Want. Slut.” He pushed two fingers into your pussy making you cry out, shaking at the sudden pleasure.

“I-I want cock please sir. I want to be fucked so badly.” All three men groaned at your filthy cry. Not just asking for San but to just be fucked in general. “I want to be full so badly.”

“See, what wasn’t so hard now, was it.” San snaked his fingers in your hair, yanking your head upwards. You yelped at the slight pain, your arms shaking, trying your best to keep yourself up. “Now the real question is. Which cock you want first?”

“Daddy…” You gaze at the two men standing by the window on your left-hand side. Seonghwa’s eyebrow raised while Hongjoong had the most sadistic smile you’d ever seen. San looked over to them, confused for a moment, feeling a little bit of rage but yet a hint of curiosity. Hongjoong scoffed, clicking his tongue before he started to undo his belt. San tugged you by the hair, so you were standing completely straight up. His hot breath against your earlobe before he gave your ass one more final slap, then squeeze. If you were going to play a bratty game. Then a bratty game it shall be.

“Okay, baby. You want his cock, then you can have it…” His hand snaked back around your throat choking you harshly. “But if you call him daddy one more time, I’ll grab that vibrator I know you have in your backpack and leave it on you until you learn your lesson. Got it.”

You nodded like an idiot, whining just wanting to be filled. But at the same time, San’s empty threat sounded so very tempting. Sadly, before you could say anything, San twisted you around until you fell on your back on the bed. Hongjoong was on you in seconds. His face is inches from you, with the same sadistic smile painted on it. “Hi there Angel…” He kissed your cheek before whispering in your ear. “Don’t worry, Darling, Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.” His voice was low enough that San would only be able to hear mumbles, which caused him to roll his eyes with what felt like the millionth time tonight. Seonghwa, of course, noticed, letting out a laugh.

“Lighten up, Sannie. Share some of the reins. It’ll be more enjoyable.” Seonghwa grabbed the younger male's shoulders, pushing his fingers into his deep neck tissue, feeling his muscles so tense and tight. San closed his eyes for a moment, finally relaxing against the older man. You watched the whole situation unfold, making your head spin. The boys all cared for one another so much and looked out for one another. You felt your heart swell.

“Hey, eyes on me, sweet thing. I want you to look at me while I ruin you.” Your gaze snapped back to him instantly, biting your lip while your brows knitted together. You felt his cock rubbed against your dripping folds, making you forget the other two that stood next to the window. “That’s it, baby. Deep breath.”

You did as you were told, taking in a sharp breath as you felt Hongjoong ease inside you. He wasn’t as long as San, but his girth was something else. He felt like you were being stretched to the breaking point, turning your already mushy brain into more mush if that was even possible. “Hongjoong!!”

His pace was unforgiving, snapping his hips against you without a second thought. He did not wait for you to get used to him, making his thrust mix with the best kind of pain and pleasure. Your mouth hung open with drool pooling on your right side while you moan uncontrollably. You tried your best to keep your eyes open but the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you was making it hard. You didn’t even notice the bed dipping until you saw a washed-out red hair sitting above you. He leaned down giving you a drawn-out kiss while Hongjoong’s hips snapped against you with fury and determination as he fell forward to case your right nipple in his hot mouth. You felt like you were going to explode within seconds. “You gonna cum for Joong bunny?”

Seonghwa’s voice stirred you forward feeling a sharp burn snap in your gut as his fingers attach to your clit and his lips to your nipple. You’ve never felt so overstimulated in one moment, having three pairs of hands groping, squeezing and teasing any and all parts of your body. Three mouths licking, sucking, and biting you like you were their last meal on earth. You couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the sudden gush of liquid that slipped out of you, screaming into San’s mouth, sounding like a pathetic porn star. “Fuck did you just squirt?” Hongjoong was the first to speak slowing his thrusts for a moment.

“She did, look the bed is covered.” Seonghwa chuckled.

“Such a good girl. Now you gonna take Joongie’s cum hmm?” San didn’t need to see the other two men’s expressions to know their excitement just grew about a million percent. Hongjoong had to snap his cock back inside you just at the thought.

“Really San? You’ll let us come in your girl?” Hongjoong sounded like he was asking a completely mundane question and not currently balls deep inside of you. San gave you one slap quick peck on the lips as if he was checking in on you without needing to say anything. He could see the sparkle in your eyes, giving him the okay to answer.

“Oh course. Sharing is caring.”

Everything happened so fast. You couldn’t even tell whose hands were whose. Your body was flipped around until your legs dangled on the end of the bed and Hongjoong was back pushing into your sensitive puffy pussy. He crossed his arms over to grab your hips, holding you firmly as he fucked you hard, quick and desperately. Trying to chase his own high. “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” Hongjoong was so close he just needed a little more, just a little push. And then you clenched hard around him, feeling you about to come again making him choke as he suddenly stop his thrusts, spilling his hot cum deep into your cunt. “Oh fuck. This is the best pussy I’ve ever had.”

“I know, right? And no matter how many times you fucker her. She’s still so needy.” San prided himself in his stamina and when he found out you could go for multiple rounds, it was like a match made in heaven. “Step aside, Joong, I need to feel my baby's cunt.”

A panting Hongjoong pulled out of you slowly, feeling you clench. He groaned, seeing his cum mix with yours as it spilled out of your pussy and down your leg. San was quick to pull you up, walking you over to the chair by the window. He sat down letting you fall onto his lap. You whined, fingers tangling into his shirt. “T-too clothed sir.”

“Hmm, what’s that doll? Am I too clothed for you?” San giggled, tilting his head back as you nodded your head. he held your face, kissing you deeply while mumbling against your lips, “Okay then, baby.”

He turned you around in his lap so your back was against his chest. Your gaze scanned the room seeing Hongjoong laying down on the couch, his cock stuffed by him his sweats but Seonghwa on the hand was stalking his way towards you and San, tugging his shirt off. Neither man had to say another word as San tilted you forward, making you place your hands on his knees. Your face was eye leveled with Seonghwa’s aching clothed crotch, while you could hear San remove his clothes. Seonghwa grabbed your chin, making you look up between your lashes at the older male. His smirk sent shivers down your spine, “Gonna let me fuck your mouth like a good obedient little whore?”

“Yes, please, Sir.” A loud slap echoed in the room as you let out a yelp. San’s hand rubs your raw ass, smoothing your hot skin.

“What d-did I say?” San growled.

You looked over your shoulder quickly, seeing San’s eyes were almost pitch, pooling with lust. You gave him a small simple smile before looking back to Seonghwa. “Please. May I please have your cock… Sir.”

“Fucking brat.” San stood up, gripping your hips tightly, bending you so you could place your hands on the arms of the chair. San gave your ass another harsh slap making you cry, tears swelling down your cheeks. “You want to be a brat. I’ll fuck you like one.”

He sunk into your cunt in one swift motion, knocking the wind right out of your lungs. You screamed, dropping your head while you moaned San’s name over and over against with each sharp, brutal thrust. Your nails dug into the chair, eyes shut tight. Every nerve in your body was on fire, feeling San’s big cock abuse your cervix. “Fuck, sir! Please. So big. Fuck. So full.”

“What? Cock drunk already? Too stupid to form a sentence anymore?” San mocked you, placing a hand on your shoulder, while the other stayed firmly on your hip. He pushed you up slightly, whistling slightly. You didn’t understand what was going on but the next thing you knew was feeling Seonghwa take a seat on the chair in front of you, his hard cock lying against his bare chest. Your eyes grew wide, he was longer and thicker than Hongjoong and San.

“Open wide, Bunny.” You gazed up at him for a moment, seeing a smirk painted on his perfect face. You spread your legs wider, so you’d be levelled with Seonghwa. San let go of your shoulder, stilling his hips so you could take Seonghwa’s cock in your mouth. You tried your best not to gag, gripping tightly onto his thighs while San started to grind his cock against you again once you could take at least half of him. “Fuck. Your mouth feels so good Bunny. So warm.”

“Oh, Just wait-fuck..till you feel her cunt.” San smirked.

“Like I said best pussy I’d ever had.” Hongjoong laughed from afar, most likely still on the bed, watching. Seonghwa threw his head back losing himself in the feeling of your mouth, while San’s thrusts began to get unstable feeling his orgasm creeping closer. He snaked a hand under you to rub your clit, trying to get you to come first. He needed you to come first, he needs to feel you let go and cream around his cock before he could pump you full.

“Come on baby, can you... f-fuck, can you cum for me. I need you to let go, baby.” San was mumbling, losing himself with the feeling of your soaked cunt clenching around his aching cock. You were crying around Seonghwa’s cock, making the vibration down his shaft cause him to buck his hips into you. Everything is so overwhelming, being filled by two men at the same time, while both being lost in pleasure from the feeling of your body. It made you dizzy as he squirted all over San, legs shaking and knees buckling. San came soon after, holding your hips in place so you wouldn’t fall. He swore, feeling his cum leak out around his cock as all the liquid pooled on the floor.

“Fuck, Bunny.” Seonghwa gripped your shoulders, tugging you off himself. San slipped out of you, sidestepping to take Seonghwa’s place in the chair, racking his hands through his sweaty, wet hair. Seonghwa manhandled you to lean against the window. Your nipples chilling to the cold temperature of the glass. Your hands sat flat on the window as Seonghwa laced his fingers with yours. He slowly glided his cock through your dripping folds before sinking right into your sensitive cunt with a groan. His pace was slow, calculated. You’ve never had a cock as big as Seonghwa and it was hitting all the right spots perfectly with each thrust. It didn’t take you long to feel the tinge in your gut again, already so oversensitive from being fucked twice already.

“Sir please I’m gonna cum again.” you completely forgot about San’s rule but no one seemed to notice except for Seonghwa, which made his ego grow more than he’d like to admit. Fucking your hard against the glass for all the city to see...

“Well go on. Cum like a little whore on my cock bunny. Cum while watching the city lights.” Seonghwa’s filthy words were just the right amount to send you over the edge, clamping down hard on his cock. He pulled out of you mid-high causing your body to shake in pain but you didn’t have any time to say anything, as he pushed right back in with a harsh slam, biting down on your shoulder.

You screamed. He came quicker than he would have liked, but the feeling of your cunt was too much for him. Everything went still, the only thing heard was heavy panting and racing hearts. Your mind was too hazy to register the two men helping you to the bed, laying you down where Hongjoong had been. You vaguely could see all three of them standing half-dressed and a mess, at the end of the bed, staring at you. They all thought how beautiful you looked and how well you did for them. And from that day on they knew their relationship with you was going to be completely different and none of them minded one bit.

San might have also ‘forgotten’ the next morning to give you the personalized hoodie so you would have to go back and get it. But not before himself, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong had another round with you.

- ♡

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jamminvroomvroom · 6 months

Text

777.

ln x fem!reader

in which lando has a wild week in vegas

on a bit of a roll whoops! had to write something slutty for vegas week/lando’s birthday so here it is! enjoy my loves and please please pleeeeease tell me what you think! 🎲💘 have literally been thinking about this since vegas was announced and i couldn’t stop listening to silk sonic lol

posting this with the @lavenderlando seal of approval 🫡🤍

inspired loosely by 777 by silk sonic

warnings: 18+ minors dni i am so serious!! listen it’s smut. it’s a lot lot lot of smut. alcohol, swearing, fuckboy!lando, one night stand vibes, choking, unprotected sex, general sex acts, some kinky shit, fluff, minor angst bc lando is a moody little shit

5k words

lando had gotten used to the taste of champagne.

the golden bubbles had grown on him over the course of the season, they tasted like success. so, he didn’t protest when several magnums showed up at the round table, some ridiculous happy birthday remix being blasted over the casino speakers.

it was the night of his 24th birthday, and the drinks hadn’t stopped flowing. he was surrounded by his friends, max and ash joining him, as well as the drivers that had arrived in vegas. the crisp white sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows by now, midnight fast approaching, the material half unbuttoned.

they’d started the night in a bar, drowning in a river of alcohol, and now they were in a casino, one of many on the strip. it was all a bit predictable, kitschy decor everywhere he looked since he’d arrived in las vegas, but that’s what made it iconic. the tackiness seemed to mesh well with the old money vibe, and lando knew this would be a birthday to remember.  

everything was mahogany, gold or red. nothing didn’t twinkle in the lights. his suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, curls messy already from the light breeze of november in the desert. his cheeks were champagne rosy, the alcohol going straight to his head and he felt so fucking good.

everyone toasted to the birthday boy, slot machines rattling in the background. lando didn’t usually enjoy this sort of environment, but he was too drunk to care, deciding to embrace the insanity of his life and live on the edge for one night.

he found himself hunched over a gaming table, fingers drumming against the green felt. his eyes scanned the embroidery, taking in the game that was being played. blackjack, he assumed. this really wasn’t his type of place.

by then, as if by some sort of divine intervention, it was.

a flash of red. a swish of hair. manicured nails on a martini glass.

suddenly blackjack seemed like the best fucking game in the world.

lando couldn’t look away from you.

you were stood right opposite him, drink in hand, red satin draping over every curve of your frame. the dress seemed to cover everything, and nothing at all, perfect for the environment you were in. it was daring, enticing, and lando sure liked being enticed.

from the very second he laid eyes on you, he was picturing what you’d look like against a clean, white bedspread, how his name would sound rolling off your tongue in the form of a desperate whimper. it was a crude thought, but he’d become a crude man.

things had changed a lot since his last breakup. he was messy, leaving a trail of clothes and kisses across every country he stepped foot in. he didn’t get off on the number of people he’d slept with, he got off on the rush of someone new, and he knew before he’d even touched down in vegas, a week earlier than he needed to, that this would probably be the messiest week of his life.

but then he saw you, and it felt weird. he didn’t just want to learn your name and bend you over the nearest surface, gone from your bed before the sun was even in the sky. he was addicted at first sight; he had to take you home, at the very least.

his fixation on you was broken by the dealers voice; it seemed like you were up to play next and you needed at least another player. lando’s eyes flitted back to you, wondering if he even knew how to play blackjack before he offered himself up to you on a glaring shiny platter. you took the decision away from him, because this time, you were staring right back at him.

internally, he was choking on air. externally, he was mentally undressing you with a filthy smirk on his face.

“wanna play, birthday boy?” you smiled coyly, an eyebrow quirked seductively. he could have fallen right to his knees at just the sound of your voice. sweet and spicy.

lando realised that you’d seen the embarrassing display the boys had put on for him. maybe you even knew who he was. he definitely wanted to know who you were, and that’s why he decided to give in to your electric stare.

“you’re on.”

he lost.

every. single. game.

numbers were never lando’s thing.

it was hard to care, though, when he had you sprawled out on the desk of his hotel room, his lips all over your neck.

the walk from the casino up to his room had been short, a bottle of champagne in his left hand and the curve of your ass in his right. there’d been very little small talk, very little convincing needed to seduce you, not with the way you’d been eye-fucking from opposite sides of the table, cards laid bare before you both.

he’d kissed you in the elevator, sloppy and desperate, pressed you against the door to his suite, and quickly pinned you to the other side of it once you were finally inside. you tasted like fruit liquor and cigarettes, your dress slowly bunching at your hips as his hands roamed the silky material. lando was restless, craving everything you had to offer, so he picked you up effortlessly, spreading his palms across the back of your thighs.

it had been a short walk to the desk from the door, and he placed you down carefully. lando slid the dress up your thighs, his finger grazing your calf as he did. you were arching into him, pushing his jacket off his frame and frantically tugging at the buttons of his dress shirt until it was hanging undone off his shoulders.

the look in your eyes sent his blood rushing, frenzied and desperate for him as much as he was for you. taking your jaw in his hand, he tilted your chin towards him until you were looking up at him through your lashes. lando tucked your hair behind your ear, continuing to graze down your neck until he reached the flimsy strap of your dress.

“are you gonna let me have you?” his grip on your jaw tightened and he studied your face.

he gulped when your lips twisted into a smile, conniving, dangerous, red lipstick smudged deliciously. you hadn’t caved into his touch, fallen into submission, and suddenly lando was swimming way out of his depth.

it seemed he’d finally met his match.

you pushed him away, giggling as he stumbled backwards towards the bed, and stood from your place on the desk. slowly, you made your way towards him, until you’d backed him up all the way to the foot of the bed, at which point he collapsed. he scrambled up onto his elbows, smirking up at you.

your eyes raked over his frame, swollen lip caught between your teeth. he looked disheveled in the best way, shirt framing lean sun kissed skin.

slowly, you unzipped your dress, letting it fall off your frame. the material pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it carefully, kicking it away. lando had moved up the bed so that he was sitting against the headboard, watching you hungrily. you were left bare, aside from a lacy thong and red stilettos. lando could have cried tears of joy.

happy fucking birthday.

lando’s eyes lit up like 777 had spun onto a slot machine. he may have lost at blackjack but he’d definitely hit the jackpot.

you crawled onto the bed towards him, not stopping until you were sat on his lap. his hands scaled your thighs, stroking up and down the soft skin. you rolled your hips, experimenting, toying with him, and he groaned, low and loud.

“does this answer your your question?” you whispered, leaning into him so that you could loop your arms around his neck.

lando kissed you, slow and sloppy, sitting up even further just to feel you closer. he could feel your nipples brushing against his bare chest, low whines breaking through the kiss your shared every time you felt too sensitive. your bodies were rolling together in unison, friction building nicely between your legs.

he was growing impatient, itching to get rid of the remaining barriers between you. lando held you still, tight, flipping you both over so that he was hovering over you. his lips worked your neck, hickeys littered down your neck and over your collarbone, while his hands moved down your body. he toyed with the band of your thong, snapping the material against your waist.

lando left you there, keening for his touch, while he peeled his shirt off. his trousers went next, along with his boxers, and then he was right back where he’d left off. your panties disappeared in a flash, his kisses punctuated by a splotchy purple mark sucked below your left breast.

and then he was buried between your legs, licking stripes into you like he was starving. he moaned into your pussy when he felt the first pull on his hair, spurring him on. he applied more pressure, taking it slow, revelling in the way you tugged harder and harder with every swipe. lando slid two fingers through your folds, coating them in your slick.

when he slid the digits inside of you, his mouth latched onto your clit, flicking against it relentlessly. he found the perfect rhythm, balance, everything he was doing made you see stars behind your eyelids. you were thrashing, helpless, and he was getting off on it.

you jaw went slack when you raised yourself onto your elbows just to find him grinding against the mattress, groaning into your cunt at the sensation, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. you couldn’t even hold yourself up then, dropping into the mattress as you fell apart beneath him.

lando resurfaced a few moments later, a glint in his eyes, his mouth glistening in the dim light. your vision was hazy, body shattered, but you ached for more of him. the feeling only intensified, your legs tightening around his waist, when he raised his coated fingers to his lips, lapping up every last drop of you. his tongue swirled around his digits lewdly, and you shuddered.

lando didn’t mind at all when you pushed him onto his back, clambering on top of him. you looked wild, animalistic even, as you guided the tip of his cock through your folds, and he folded his arms behind his head to enjoy the view. once you’d slicked him up, not that he really needed it, you sunk down on him.

fingerprints stained your hips; his grip on you increased tenfold as you adjusted around him, your walls throbbing around his swollen cock. lando sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, holding you down on him. your movements were stuttering, trying to hold yourself together and ignore the way he fit inside you so damn perfectly. you tested the waters, rolling your hips a few times, and his eyes rolled back in his skull.

you felt heavenly, like velvet and butterflies.

he lost all sense of control, every fibre keeping him from wrecking you. his grip didn’t loosen when he fucked up into you, bending his knees for any extra leverage he could get. your nails scraped down his chest, his abs, dripping at the way he tensed under your touch. you tried your best to keep up with him, to meet his thrusts, holding your own for longer than you thought you would.

and then you were folding, melting into his chest, one of his hands pulling both of your behind your back, holding you down as he fucked you into your orgasm. your whines were panted right into his ear, sending him hurtling towards his own high.

lando couldn’t help himself, spilling into you, your body pressed helplessly into his. you were exhausted, wrecked, grinning lazily against the thrumming of his heartbeat.

with your hands held behind your back, you couldn’t stop him from planting you on your back, snaking down your body, burying his tongue deep inside you. the room was filled with the sound of sex, his tongue dragging over you like you were the last meal on earth and he was ravenous. he cleaned up the mess he’d made quickly, sounds that would make the population of sin city blush bouncing off the walls.

your vision was white, maybe your were screaming, it was hard to know what was going on when he had you about ready to ascend. when you fell over the edge, you were boneless, at one with the bed. you watched as he licked his lips, flopping onto the bed beside you.

he stroked your hair and you hummed, content and satiated.

lando didn’t dare look away from you while you came down.

apparently, it was rare to wake up after a wild night in vegas and remember the events of the night before.

lando remembered everything.

the exact shade of your eyes, the feel of red satin and black lace, the way you tasted.

your lips on his skin, hips in his hands, the way you moulded pliantly to his touch.

the way you gave as good as you got.

he was smiling before he’d even opened his eyes, reaching blinding across the bed, ready to propose round… four? five? lando had lost count.

warm hands met cold sheets and suddenly he was wide awake.

lando sat up dead straight, searching for a sign of life in the room. there was none. no shoes on the floor, no dress to match, no thong hanging from the door handle. a pit formed in his stomach.

is this how he made people feel?

waking up alone after the best sex of his life and no trace of the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on was quite miserable.

he thudded back into the mattress, hands shielding his eyes from the burn of daylight. he felt like shit, that was undeniable. when he’d fallen asleep, naked and with you nestled into his side, he couldn’t wait to wake up, perhaps arrogantly thinking that you’d be waking up with him. what was that saying, again?

hope breeds eternal misery.

his brain was wracked with the image of you and him, champagne flowing right before he’d taken you again, bent over the desk. and then again in the shower, a harmless attempt to clean yourselves up ending up with you on your knees before your cheek was pressed against the shower screen.

lando tried to fathom why you’d leave after the night you’d shared. there was something about it, something more intimate in the desperation you’d shared, that left him senseless as to why you were gone before the sun was in the sky.

just like he usually was.

it dawned on him, quite quickly, that the habits he’d made of quick fucks and fast getaways was not good form. it was reckless and casually cruel, and he felt guilt for the first time since his string of one night stands had begun. perspective was a crazy thing.

when he sluggishly made his way out of bed, he felt even worse.

“where’d you get to last night? we lost you after that terrible game of blackjack.” max teased, sipping his coffee.

lando found himself at the breakfast table, head rested on his hand and hoodie pulled tight. he wasn’t in the mood to talk, but max was like a dog with a bone; there was no avoiding this conversation.

“met a girl.” lando mumbled, aimlessly stirring the tea he knew he wasn’t going to drink.

“ah, understood.” max said, grinning knowingly. but then, as if lando’s bad mood finally clicked, he continued. “wait, why are you in a mood then?”

“tired.” lando replied, monotonously. he wasn’t quite sure how to unpack this one.

“bullshit.”

“woke up alone.”

“oh.”

“she was- i don’t know. just thought it would be different, that’s all.” lando couldn’t disguise the deflated tone of his voice.

“don’t tell me you caught feelings from a shag.” max rolled his eyes, chomping away at his toast. lando could barely stomach the sight of food.

“shut up, i’m not saying i fell in love. just liked something about her.”

“well, anything can happen in vegas. you never know, mate. she might find her way back to you.”

lando was getting ready for the netflix cup before he knew it. he’d managed to shake off max, escaping to the darkness of his room, the curtains drawn and the lights off.

he pretended it was the hangover that had him laying face down on his bed.

the last thing he wanted was to go and play corporate circus on the golfing green, but he figured some fresh air wouldn’t hurt. and so, he was in the backseat of a car well on his way to the tournament.

carlos couldn’t distract him, neither could alex or pierre. rickie fowler was much less interesting that he hoped, or maybe he wasn’t and lando just wasn’t interested enough. not even zak’s mclaren printed trousers could cheer him up.

lando was leaning into his golf club, starting mindlessly into the crowd, waiting for this garish event to begin when he caught a glimpse of someone he recognised. in a sea of influencers and obnoxious businessmen, there you were.

there you fucking were, in your knee high boots and a mini skirt, sunglasses perched on your nose, skintight top under an oversized blazer and hair shining under the warm sunlight. he lost his balance, the golf club slipping from underneath him, and the only thing that kept him upright was the burning urge to keep his eyes on you.

just who were you?

lando didn’t need to clarify whether or not you were looking at him, too. no, you made it abundantly clear by the way you winked at him, before pushing your sunglasses back up the bridge of your nose.

you fucking winked.

he took a step in your direction, shaky legs ready to carry him all the way over to you. he only had your first name and he craved your second, your phone number, anything really. he’d just take the small talk, to be completely honest.

but then the klaxon screeched, knocking him out of his trance and he whipped round to discover that they were ready to tee off. lando cursed under his breath, rapidly turning to search for your face but you were nowhere to be seen.

had he imagined you? had he imagined all of it?

every golf ball hit was hit with frustrated vengeance.

the week disappeared in a bittersweet blur.

lando had achieved multiple hangovers and about zero dollars in winnings, but he’d successfully managed to take his mind off of you.

okay, so that was a bare faced lie, but if lando didn’t lie to himself, he wouldn’t be able to lie to anyone else.

he wouldn’t be able to lie to max that he was no longer moping. he wouldn’t be able to lie to the media when they asked him if he was oh so excited about the race. he wouldn’t be able to lie to his team when they asked him if he was still suffering the consequences of his week long hangover.

lando had been rushing around all day, after a solid p4 in qualifying the night before. the entire day had been horrendous, sequins and bright lights being shone in his eyes. all he wanted to do was hide, get in the car and then go to bed.

fate had other plans.

lando was rushing to the front of the grid for the national anthem, certain that whatever display that was about to occur would make him nauseous. he was derailed on his journey, caught by rachel brookes in the pitlane, and then accosted by martin brundle once he’d made his was onto the grid.

“good qualifying yesterday and good luck today!” martin called to lando, turning to wrestle another insufferable celebrity.

as lando was making his getaway, ready to jog through the masses of people to his place at the front, he went barrelling into another body, putting his hands out to steady himself and the poor person that had become his collateral damage. as he regained his balance, he must have looked like a cartoon character, eyes bulging out of his head.

“are you stalking me?” was all he could choke out when his eyes met yours.

what the actual fuck were you doing here?

lando had given up on the possibility of ever seeing you again, and yet, here you were, stood under the bright floodlights on the grid, his office. this was the last place he’d expected you to show up, paddock pass swinging from your neck. again, what the actual fuck were you doing here?

“might as well be, at this point.” you teased. “hopefully you’ll do better today than you did at golf on tuesday.” you smiled coyly up at him, tucking your hair behind your ear.

lando was on quite the time crunch, glancing at the time on the clock at the front of the grid. he had a minute to spare, if he was lucky, but he had to talk to you, before you inevitably disappeared again.

“thought i’d get at least your phone number before you left.”

“from what i hear, you don’t usually stick around long enough for those.” you smirked.

well, his reputation certainly proceeded him. he couldn’t really argue with that.

“maybe i’m trying to change that.” lando attempted to flirt but really, he sounded desperate. you didn’t seem to mind.

“i’ll make you a deal,” you proposed, leaning in just a little bit closer. lando’s breath hitched in his throat. “get on that podium, and i’ll be waiting in your hotel lobby.”

“and if i don’t?” lando’s mouth was dry.

“maybe i’ll see you next year.”

lando watched you walk away, your hips swaying tantalisingly, wondering if the hefty fine he would be bollocked with would be worth it if he didn’t move his ass for the national anthem.

this would be the drive of his fucking life.

lando couldn’t recall a time he’d left a track faster in his life.

media duties were rushed, so was the shower he had before he fled. it was lucky he was already on the strip, so the walk to his hotel was blissfully short.

he entered the lobby with a shit eating grin and a comically large bottle of champagne in hand.

a string of second places had gotten rather frustrating, but this one felt particularly good. a podium was a podium, fair and square, and assuming you’d kept to your end of the bargain, he was in for the best celebration of his life.

sitting pretty at the bar that stretched through the lobby, you were waiting for him, heels swinging from the stool you rested on. denim clung to your hips, a dark corset style top moulding to your curves. he wondered if love at first sight was real; lust at first sight certainly was.

lando’s eyes beckoned to towards him, and you slipped inconspicuously into the elevator together, not wanting to draw too much attention to your rendezvous. it was a futile attempt, frankly, because he had you backed into the mirror before the doors had even fully shut.

kisses on your neck had your eyes fluttering closed, one of his knees slotting comfortably between your thighs. one of his hands was clasped tight around the neck of the neck of the bottle, giving lando the fantastic idea to find your neck with his free one. he held you firmly, forcing you to look at him.

“i’m gonna make you wish you never left.”

hours on the mattress pulling countless orgasms from one another left you both weak, exhausted, a little bit clingy.

lando felt electric. no other person had ever left him so feral, so euphoric.

he’d had you first against the door, pulling your jeans off and pinning you against it, your thighs in his firm grasp as he fucked you into the wooden panel. then, he’d taken you to bed, your knuckles turning white from your brutal grip on the headboard when he’d planted you down on his mouth. two orgasms later, you were face down in the sheets, ass in the air for him while he slammed into you like his life depended on it, pulling you into his chest by your hair when you reached your climaxes.

all that hard work called for a bath, where you both found yourselves now. it had started off quite innocently, sat at opposite ends of the extravagantly large bathtub amongst the bubbles. but then you’d given him those eyes, and then your back was pressed against his chest, your body draped over his. his head was nestled into the crook of your neck, one arm slung over your waist. his other hand brought the bottle of champagne to his lips, the liquid going down smoothly. lando pressed the bottle to your pursed lips too, trading backwards and forwards while your bodies relaxed into the hot water.

lando’s hand on your waist was getting restless, fingers drumming over your abdomen, up, up, up, until he found your breast. he circled your nipple with his finger, not quite touching the bud yet, but he could feel it hardening from his scarce touch. your hips rolled backwards into his, feeling him hardening once again against your lower back. lando cupped your breast, massaging it in his hands before he switched, flitting between your tits.

you slumped somehow even further into him, not a millimetre of space between your bodies. he was winding you up beautifully, heat burning between your legs once more. you didn’t know how you did it, how you could be so ready for each other after the eventful evening you’d already shared.

lando was flicking your nipples between his finger, switching back and fourth until you were moaning quietly. you took charge, the sensitivity building too quickly, and so you rolled over in his arms, clambering into his lap.

the bath water splashed around you, moving in small waves across the tub as you situated yourself on top of him, grinding down on him until he was buried deep within your walls. he found that spot, rolling your hips against his, and then you were rocking up and down on him, nice and slow. he touched parts of you that never had been before, the pace and the angle intensifying every little sensation. your head was thrown back, hands clawing at his shoulders for something to hold onto, just for the feel of him.

lando reached over the edge of the bathtub, blindly searching for the bottle he’d discarded while you’d been switching positions. he felt the green glass grazing his fingertips and brought it back to his lips, eyes trailing over your body in sheer awe.

he couldn’t help himself, taking a sip before tilting it towards you, pouring the golden bubbles over your clavicle, jaw tightening - just like your cunt did at the sensation - as he watched the sticky alcohol drip down over the curve of your bouncing breasts.

you quivered when you felt his tongue lap over your nipple, then the other, dragging over your sodden flesh until he reached the junction between your neck and your shoulder. he bit down, hard, eyes rolling back at the taste in his mouth and the way you clamped down around him, whimpering out between breathless pants.

lando felt you let go, stuttering on his cock and sinking down on top of him, the water - now lukewarm - soothing your tired limbs. he held you close, basking in the intimacy of the moment, his hearing honing in on the dull hum of ecstasy you expelled.

the bath grew colder and colder as you sat there, comfortable silence filling the air along with the quiet rush of water that came with any movements made. when the time came, lando held you up as you got off of him and stepped onto the plush rug, quickly following suit. you were eyeing the shower when he turned to hand you a towel.

“i think i need a shower, as much as i enjoyed the bath.” you spoke, opening the screen and stepping in to adjust the knobs.

lando weighed up his options, agonising over joining you or doing his back in. he couldn’t exactly tell his trainer that his back gave out from too much sex.

“am i invited?” lando asked, stepping in behind you, hands on your waist.

“seems like you’ve already invited yourself.” you teased, looking at him over your shoulder.

“no funny business, you.” lando rested his head on your shoulder.

“from me? you’re just as bad.” you quipped, letting the hot warm stream all over your flushed bodies.

lando stayed as he was for a second, but then you turned your head again, looking at him from the corner of your eye and he needed to kiss you. he couldn’t help but, and so he twisted you round to face him and leaned in. you were more than receptive, fingers raking through his wet curls.

the hot water rained down on you while you stood there, holding each other close. lando couldn’t put his finger on it, why he didn’t want to let you go. he couldn’t even begin to process the idea of having anyone else in his arms like this. it was absurd, really, but he was too caught up in the moment to care.

when you were both clean and dry, you laid down in bed, gazing mindlessly at one another. his eyes followed the lines of your face, the curve of your lips. he learned a lot about you, a formula 1 fan with who ran her own business and took herself on holiday to vegas. the conversation flowed like the champagne had and you were laughing at all his stupid jokes. in turn he grinned like a fool at your quick wit, the sound of your laughter.

“so what are you doing next? back to work?” lando asked, an idea forming in his mind like a tornado.

“nope,” you popped the p. “giving myself some well deserved time off.”

“have you ever been to abu dhabi?” lando asked, lips quirking mischievously.

inbox me your thoughts bc aaaaaaaa 😨😨

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2K notes · View notes

evansbby · 9 months

Text

another sugar daddy Ari 🫣🥵✨✨

18+ minors dni, daddy kink, age gap, smut

Ari wasn’t a conventional sugar daddy by any means. Well, what was a conventional sugar daddy, anyways? You wouldn’t know, because this was the first time you’d ever been in an arrangement like this. You didn’t know what you expected when you signed the contract. But it’s not like you were complaining…

You weren’t complaining when he made you sit on his lap while he kissed you everywhere. Slowly, sensually, petting you like you were his little toy, while he asked you questions about your life.

“Are you enjoying college?” While he sucked on your neck.

“Tell me about your parents, how are they doing?” While he peppered kisses along your jaw.

“What extra-curriculars are you taking this semester?” As he kissed your cheek and cooed at you.

You’d tell him, being as animated as possible because he seemed to like how chatty you were. And he’d play with your hair and caress you everywhere and put his hands up your skirt or play with your bra strap. It was like you were a delectable meal that he was playing with, and he enjoyed teasing himself almost as much as he enjoyed teasing you.

“Baby, you didn’t spend any of your allowance this week.” Ari inquires one day, frowning as he enters your apartment. Well, the luxury penthouse apartment he was paying for, but he liked to call it yours and you liked having a place of your own so you never corrected him. Not that he’d appreciate you correcting him on anything anyways. Men and their egos…

You shrug, sitting up on the couch where you’d been waiting for him. He’d texted you earlier informing you that he’d cleared his schedule to meet you for lunch. And of course, you assumed lunch was code for sex, which was why you were clad in only a pretty pink lingerie set with silky ribbons and bows, along with a pair of pink high heels which Ari already couldn’t take his eyes off of.

“Sorry, daddy, I just didn’t feel like shopping.”

You cross and uncross your legs, looking up at him and biting your lip. How can you tell your sugar daddy that there’s only so many new dress, shoes or purses you can purchase in a week?

Ari huffs, “I’m gonna have to start punishing you if you don’t spend your weekly allowance, sweetheart.”

But he’s already unbuckling his belt, which makes lick your lips excitably. You’d only been in this arrangement with him for a month and a half, but he’d already got you addicted to his dick. And his mouth. His tongue. His hands…

Ari was so different from the college boys you were used to. Not only was he older, mature, experienced in how to please women, but he was also just… so rugged. And tough. Rough around the edges, so to speak. With his mane of long hair, his bristly beard and wild eyes, he was incredibly virile, handsome, and quite frankly, every girl’s wet dream.

In his 40s, he was now the big CEO hotshot of some huge company. But he’d worked for the government when he was younger, going out on international missions and doing all that dangerous, top secret stuff. But that was all he ever told you about that, and yet you could see it on his face, everything he’d been through and the things he’d seen.

He was hot-headed, impulsive and he took what he wanted when he wanted it. You weren’t complaining, because it made for some fantastic, mind-blowing sex.

Like when he’d taken you out to dinner but midway through the meal he’d decided he’d rather devour you instead, and so he’d pulled you into his lap right there and fucked you gently while he fed you pieces of steak. Luckily, the two of you were in a corner booth. Unluckily, most of the wait-staff had seen, but Ari left them a hefty tip to make sure they never mentioned it again.

Or the time he’d come to pick you up from campus, only to see you talking to one of the boys from your history class. That was the day you’d found out how jealous Ari Levinson was capable of being. He’d slung you over his lap and spanked your ass raw for the better part of the journey home. His limo driver had drawn the partition, and you’d cried until your daddy pulled you upright, kissed your face and told you it way okay.

Or, the time you’d forgot to call him daddy during sex once, which was very much against the rules. Ari wanted you to call him daddy and nothing else when inside the bedroom. Which was why he’d tied you up and aggressively licked your cunt till your legs were shaking and you were on the brink of passing out, and the only word you were able to utter was “daddy.”

Back in the present, Ari allows his pants to drop to the floor along with his boxers, and he gives you a meaningful look.

“Daddy’s had a long day and wants you to suck his dick, sweetheart.”

You sink down to your knees, trying to be sexy about it and you know he appreciates that. You love how he can’t take his eyes off your body, how the lingerie hugs your curves and pushes your breasts up. How tantalising your cleavage looks, especially with you on your knees in front of him. You know Ari loves your body, and loves buying you pretty, revealing things so he can show you off to all his friends and colleagues.

You grab hold of his big dick, throat already hurting at the thought of having that inside your mouth. You loved his dick because it was pretty and brought you so much pleasure, but it was also so insanely big, and Ari loved to make you choke on it. Which happened every time you gave him a blowjob because you still weren’t used to his size, and he preferred you taking all of it in till you couldn’t breathe. You knew he loved it when you couldn’t breathe, when his enormous dick was suffocating you…

“And then after you do that, you’re going to sit on my lap and scroll through my phone till you’ve found some nice things to spend your allowance on. Got that, gorgeous?”

You nod submissively, and Ari smirks. He’s still got his belt in his hand and he loops it around your neck, tightening it till it’s incredibly snug. And just being there, by his feet with a makeshift leash around your neck gets you wetter than it should.

“Such a good little girl,” Ari grunts, grabbing a fistful of your hair as you take his cock into your mouth. Giving Ari a blowjob is always a messy affair, and soon enough, he’s thrusting in and out of your mouth at top speed, muttering profanities while he orders you to keep your eyes on his.

He rubs his dick all over your face, smearing your cheeks and nose with his precum and your own spit. He slaps you across the face with his cock, chuckling breathlessly when you pout because he knows how wet it gets you. And he grabs your hair, pushing you down till your deep-throating him, your nose pressed against his pelvis till you can’t breathe and you begin to flail your limbs.

But his belt around your neck keeps you in place, as does his constant praises “What a good little girl,” “daddy loves how well you take my dick,” “you’re so good for me, baby. So sexy and cute when you’ve got my dick down your throat.”

He cums on your face and doesn’t let you clean it off. He tells you that you look beautiful like this, and then, true to his word, sits you down on his lap and hands you his phone. You scroll through one expensive brand website after another, all while he plays with your lingerie, petting and kissing you how he loves to, and telling you how sexy you are with his cum on your face.

“Sweetheart, if it was up to me, I’d have you in nothing except covered in diamonds, and my cum on your face.”

He immediately orders you an expensive pair of diamond earrings from Cartier (as if you haven’t already got two whole jewellery boxes full of diamonds and pearls and sapphire and what not — all from Ari of course). And then he insists that the earrings were his gift to you, and that you still need to spend your allowance.

After a lot of pouting and grumbling, and some reprimanding smacks to your bottom later, you’ve let him buy you two Chanel handbags, a dress from Versace’s newest Resort collection (not even in stores yet, but Ari had his connections), as well as five new pairs of shoes (all high heels, of course).

“Now was that so hard, baby?”

“I guess not. But I’m gonna run out of space soon, with all the things you keep buying me.”

Ari scoffs, “I have another apartment in the upper east side. You can use it as your shoe closet.”

“You’re really into the heels, aren’t you, daddy?” You tease, twirling your bare legs in the air, your heels catching the light and you feel Ari getting hard again. He grabs your ankle suddenly, pressing kisses up your calf while you gasp and squirm in his lap. His bonded digs at your ass and his hands fondle you everywhere, tugging at your lingerie before he abruptly stops himself.

“Baby, go wait for me inside the bedroom. Everything off except the shoes. And lie on the bed for me with your legs spread out.”

You raise an eyebrow, “That’s awfully specific, daddy—OW!”

He smacks your ass four times in quick succession.

“Go. Now. I’ve got the rest of the day off and daddy plans to fuck your little pussy till I’ve had my fill. Which won’t be any time soon, so take a couple of bottles of water with you too.”

***

JSJDSJSKSKSK THE END IDK I AM IN SYCH A SUGAR DADDY ARI MOOD BYE.

#sugar daddy Ari #Ari levinson #ari levison x reader #Steve rogers #Chris evans #chris evans fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

vivalabunbun · 1 year

Text

Do I Meet Your Qualifications Now?

Summary: A promise made long ago resurfaces during a night of drinks with colleagues.

Word Count: 8.2k (now this is the longest fic I’ve ever written)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut(r18), NSFW, MDNI, Modern AU, Childhood Friends AU, Office au? kinda, Mutual Pinning, Fluff, slight dubcon, slight angst, mentions of office sexual harassment, creepy boss, mentions of marriage, slight yandere!alhaitham, slight mentions of breeding maybe? Jealously, possessive!alhaitham, you enjoy drinks at a tavern with the sumeru boys.

Authors note: This is my first smut in a long long time, I just thought about how alhaitham’s bottled up emotions will one day bubble over, inspired by a small ramble of mine lol. Enjoy.

side note: here is a small continuation after this story

You needed a drink, something strong enough to forget about your growing workload that your paycheck no longer justified. With each new stack of paperwork that reached your desk, the resignation form became increasingly more appealing. You were drained by the time you clocked out at 6 pm, after having to attend 4 meetings throughout the day, all of which could have been a simple email.

“No no, this company has good 401K matching, paid time off, and dental included. 401K and dental, 401K and dental.” You chanted to yourself, trying to steel your resolve against throwing your two weeks' notice in the face of your manager who has been pushing more and more of his work onto you.

All while having the gall to be flirty. As if that ugly gold band wasn’t visible on his finger. Your cheeks hurt after having to hold your business professional smile for the past eight hours. The moment you stepped foot beyond those sliding glass doors, massaging your sore face with one hand.

‘It should be happy hour now, better get a spot at the bar now,’ you thought as you took off your stiff blazer.

You swore one day you’ll catch a cold from constantly subjecting your body to the dramatic shift of your tundra of an office to the sauna that was Sumeru’s climate. Ugh, stupid professional dress code, and stupid you for deciding to wear your new heels today. The back of your ankles felt raw despite the thin layer of your stockings reducing some of the chafing.

As the saying goes, thank god it was Friday, even though you couldn’t take a half day like so many of your co-workers, you were just glad to finally be out of sight from your manager with wandering eyes.

Pushing in the wooden doors to the tavern, you were quickly engulfed in the busy hustle and bustling of servers delivering rounds of glasses to rowdy tables and the hearty drunk laughter of flushed faces.

‘Damn, it’s this crowded already.’ You felt your shoulders drop, ‘should I just pick up some wine on the way home then?’ Another sad weekend spent in your stuffy apartment, great.

Just as you were about to turn on your heels, you spotted a familiar flash of blond hair. Was that Kaveh? You squinted your eyes to focus on that spot of blond through the wave of patrons.

“HA! I’m telling you there is no way that shrewd man got his position without some sort of shady dealing. I bet he’s got some dirt on some higher-ups.”

Yep, that was definitely Kaveh, you immediately recognized that dramatic shrill in his voice. You heard it many times during your college days together, increasingly so whenever he had an architecture final due. He was at a large table, there seemed to be plenty of room for one more person. Swiftly, you made your way through the crowd to tap the blond man on the shoulder, disrupting him mid-rant.

“Kaveh? Oh my god, it is you. It’s been so long. How’ve you been?” You feigned surprise.

“Oh? Oh!” His eyes lit up with recognition. “My college savior! How’ve you been? Come, sit down and drink with us!”

Score, you’ve successfully secured a seat at the tavern. Thus, you avoided wallowing in self-pity alone on your beaten couch. You meet eyes with two unfamiliar faces, the trio seemed to have been setting up a game of cards before you joined, or before Kaveh began to rant about whatever he rants about.

After a quick round of introductions and placing your order for a glass of sweet wine, you were quickly acclimated to their conversation. Tighnari was a part of the research and development team, while Cyno was the head of company security ensuring no classified information gets leaked to competitors. Kaveh, you already knew was the star of the architecture design department.

It felt nice being able to relieve stress about redundant company policies and gossip, or at the very least it was entertaining to hear Kaveh whine nonstop about them.

“Ah, I still just don’t understand how that man got the position of head secretary. I swear he has it out for me, he refused to process my request for approval because ‘it was outside of his working hours’ and because of that my project got delayed a whole week! There is no way he climbed the ranks with that work ethic!”

You did not even have to ask who the subject of Kaveh’s dismay was, it was quite obvious to the 3 of you at the table.

“Just because I can manage a healthy work-life balance, does not mean my work ethic is mediocre. My work hours are clearly posted outside of my office, it seems that literacy has decreased.” A husky voice rang out from just behind your chair.

You felt a slight shiver run up your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps along its journey. He was here, the main antagonist in Kaveh’s rants has finally shown his face.

“Oh, ‘Haitham? It’s rare to see you come out of your shell of books.” You looked over your shoulder at the towering man as he loosened his tie. Scooting a bit closer to Cyno, making more room for him to sit at the last seat.

“It is a surprise to see you here as well, did Kaveh drag you out to play a game of cards… or perhaps did he want you to foot his tab.” Alhaitham gave the blond man a slight side-eye before returning his attention back to you.

“Hey! I can hear you!”

“It was intentional, couldn’t you tell?”

“You-”

You let out a light giggle from behind your wine glass, noticing the sliver-haired man’s eyes turning back towards you.

“Did you want to sample a bit of the wine? It’s sweet.” You offered your glass to him, hoping he didn’t notice the slight shiver when his long fingers brushed against yours as he accepted it. You tried to keep your face as polite as possible, not allowing your eyes to wander down along his neck as he took a sip.

“Not bad,” he placed your glass back down in front of you. “Boss, this is good wine. I would have the same, please.” He turned his large body slightly as he called out to the tavern owner.

Allowing you to see just how well that button-down shirt fitted his form, the top button seemed to be holding on with all its strength.

“I thought we were all grown enough to not be entertained by mindless gossip,” Alhaitham remarked towards the table.

“Not at all, we were just curious about the raising star of the company,” Tighnari commented.

“There’s nothing special to talk about, I just arrive and do the task I have to before I clock out.”

“It’s a bit odd for a man that lacks ambition to land such a high role within a year.” Cyno followed up, his eyes holding a hint of suspicion.

“ It’s really nothing complicated. I’ve even rejected some promotions, the work of a secretary is simple, that’s why I wish to keep things this way.”

“Ah, he’s humble-bragging now.” You hear the tan man beside you mutter as he crossed his arms.

You also couldn’t help but feel the sting of jealousy as well. While you were proud of your childhood friend having success in his carrier, he advanced much faster than you even though you got a two-year head start.

“Ugh, how did you stand this egomaniac for so long.” Kaveh harshly set his glass down, directing the question at you.

Seeing this as an opportunity to tone your childhood friend down a few, you couldn’t help the slight grin that spread across your face.

“Well, he’s always been this way,” you swirled your glass, “I guess I just got used to it.”

“Makes sense, attitudes like his tend to develop at tender ages.” Tighnari vouched.

“He was so cute when he was younger. This man used to pull on my sleeve and beg me to read Aristotle to him.” You stole a quick glance over your wine glass.

“Oh? You two go that far back?” Cyno inquired.

You hummed in confirmation as you took another sip, “I guess it’s partially my fault for not correcting him back then. But he used to have the chubbiest cheeks, I couldn’t help but be swayed. Who would’ve known that once that cuteness faded, all that’s left is a mulish man.”

You heard Alhaitham tsk in annoyance at your jabs, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat.

“Clinging onto the past will serve no benefit towards the future. Frankly, it’s a foolish thought.”

You hid the sting in your heart with a teasing smile, hoping that it reached your eyes as well. He was right, the past was gone and over with, with little to no bearings on the future. The same stood with your relationship, childhood friends, and nothing more.

Alhaitham had the looks, the stellar career, and was already a homeowner while being four years your junior. Even with your head start on life, it felt as if you were constantly behind him, trying to catch up. You knew one day he’ll leave you in the dust, so it is for the best that you let go of this one-sided crush.

“Oh? Then I guess I’m released from that childhood pact then. How freeing.” You let out a slight laugh before taking a larger sip of your wine. You should probably order another glass, maybe two actually.

The stoic man raised an eyebrow at your statement, “and what do you mean by that.”

“Aw, it looks like little ‘Haitham forgot,” you pouted. However, you could not let this opportunity to tease him slip away.

Setting down your glass, you turned to face everyone gesturing a hand toward Alhaitham. “You see, when we were still children. He walked up to me with a flower and asked me to marry him when we grew up.”

Instantly piquing the attention of everyone at the table.

“Pfft, there’s no way that happened.” Kaveh let out a hearty laugh, waving his hand as if dismissing that notion.

“Best believe it, he ignored me for a week when I told him no. Only ‘forgiving’ me after I gave him extra sweets and promised to think about it again in the future.” You supported your face with one hand.

“So I guess you are to blame for his apatheticness? Traumatizing him so young? I’m starting to sympathize with you, Alhaitham” Tighnari scoffed.

“Well, I apologize for my shallow taste when I was a child. I used to dream of being carried off into the sunset in a white dress by my groom.” You dramatically sighed.

You mockingly patted Alhaitham’s arm, feeling the solid muscle hidden beneath the fabric tense up then relax at your sudden skinship.

“Before he became an absolute tree, this guy used to be half my size and weight. Which is why I rejected him back then, I didn’t want to crush my groom to death at our wedding.”

Just what were your intentions when you brought up that childhood memory? Alhaitham was racking his mind, trying to pinpoint a motive, too distracted to be bothered by the snickering that permeated throughout the table.

Your hand, which still lingered on his arm, brought pulses of heat along his skin, the hair at the nape of his neck pricking up from the sensation.

“On the topic of marriage, have you gotten any luck so far? Found anyone special yet?” Kaveh tucked his hands under his chin, as he rested his elbows on the crowded table.

“Ugh, Kaveh, stop you sound like my fucking mother.” You brought your hand up to your temple. Alhaitham’s skin immediately craved your touch again.

“I’m taking that as a ‘no’ then.”

“Obviously, gosh, every time I go to visit my parents it turns into an interrogation of why I didn’t come back with a ring on my finger.” You took another swig of your wine.

“Is that so?” Kaveh prodded, wanting the conversation to continue.

“Honestly, at this rate, I won’t be marrying for love. I’ll be marrying to shut my parents up.”

“Oh? And what would a husband candidate need? To be able to carry you off to the honeymoon?”

“Har har har, Kaveh, very clever.”

“Okay, now seriously.”

“Well, obviously he needs to get along with my parents.”

Just earlier this evening Alhaitham had responded to a message from your mother, telling him how thrilled they were to receive his housewarming gift basket. Your mother wishing that more young people were as considerate as he was towards his elders.

“And I would prefer someone attentive.”

Alhaitham did not even have to think when ordering coffee for you. A mocha with two shots of expresso, oat milk, and an extra drizzle of chocolate syrup. When it gets closer to the holidays, you liked to add one pump of peppermint syrup.

He also takes note of how your words tend to get more graphic once there's alcohol in your veins.

“What about income, you want a man with 6 figures? 7?”

“Ha, if my husband made 7 figures I’d run him a warm bath with rose petals, the house will be spotless, and have dinner set on the table at 7 o’clock sharp. A girl can dream, it would also mean I won’t have to see that ugly bastard’s face again.”

Roses were nice. However, lavender was much better for baths to relax the muscles. After 3 years Alhaitham was confident that he could renegotiate his salary. He knew that your organization skills violently oscillates between an absolute disaster to professional house cleaning service depending on how stressed you were. Your cooking though was always guaranteed to be delectable, 7 pm just so happened to be his preferred time for dinner.

Pause, wait a moment-

“Huh? Is your manager still bothering you? Isn’t he already married? What a sleazebag.”

“Tell me about it,” you were rubbing your temples more aggressively. “I’ve thought about staking my pen through his hand if he tried to place it on my shoulder again.”

“Would you like me to file a report to HR?” Cyno looked over at you with concern and sincerity.

“Thank you, but I’ve already tried. They said until there was hard evidence of such behavior they can’t move on with an investigation.”

“Ugh, it’s always HR protecting the top dogs once again. Seriously, I’m not even from the same department but even I can feel that slimy gaze of his whenever he looks at you. Makes me want to burn my skin off in the shower, how you withstand that is beyond me.” Kaveh, rested one over his chair, dramatically making a face to show his disgust.

Your manager, yes, it’s been noted on several performance reports that his productivity has been on the decline. Perhaps, an additional report from Alhaitham about the suspicious disappearance of funds under your manager’s supervision would warrant a full-scale investigation.

That fool had his wife listed as his emergency contact, the ashen-haired man wondered if he would detail her husband’s harassment of young women in his department to her.

“Let’s move on to a different subject, shall we? I’d be damned if my Friday night is ruined by thoughts of that man.” You rubbed your thumb along the stem of your glass, a nervous habit of yours he noted.

And with that, the drinking continued to pour, as Cyno and Kaveh began a round of cards. If you weren’t so distracted by Kaveh’s theatrical whines of how Cyno should take an easy on him, you would’ve seen the look that promised no good on Alhaitham’s face. Its true intentions are well hidden behind a stoic face.

“You would think he would have learned his limit by now.” Alhaitham couldn’t help but scoff at his housemate.

The blond was absolutely hammered, slurring his words as if they were some encrypted message. Upon seeing the state that Kaveh was in, everyone unanimously agreed to call it a night. Cyno and Tighnari supported him as Alhaitham went to the edge of a sidewalk to hail a cab.

“Are you not going to ride in the same taxi as Kaveh? You’re both going to the same destination no?” You inquired, looking up at him after he gave the directions to his house and cash for the trip.

“And what, get puked on during the ride? Kaveh is a big boy now, I’m sure he’ll manage. Besides…” His teal eyes quickly trailed up your legs.

Your stockings accentuating the shape of your legs as they beckoned his attention towards that pencil skirt with a cheeky leg slit. Not revealing enough to be chastised as unprofessional, but oh so tempting.

“It’s more important that I see you get home safely. Now, come.” He turned his back towards you, heading in the direction of your apartment. Not wanting to be caught staring at you.

Throughout the walk the two of you were silent, but it was a calm silence that can only develop from a place of comfort and familiarity. The clicking of your heels and the taps of his dress shoes filled the air between you and him like a metronome. Alhaitham made sure to remind himself to match his pace with yours, lest his longer legs pull him far ahead of you.

Finally arriving at the entrance of your apartment complex, you swiped your keycard to unlock the heavy security door. Perhaps it was because of the alcohol in your system but it took all of your body weight to pry the metal door ajar. You felt a small hand on your back, stopping your pitiful attempt.

“You’re going to strain your back, here, allow me.” Alhaitham’s voice was so close to your ear that you sore the vibrations tickled it.

Stepping aside, you allowed Alhaitham to grasp onto the side of the door as he swung the door open as if it weighed nothing. He took hold of the handle, meeting your eyes as he gestured you to enter. You felt a bit stupid for struggling so much with the door in front of him, so you quickly shuffled inside as he followed right behind you. Strolling through the lobby you finally arrived at the shiny doors of the elevator.

“Well, I guess this is goodnight.” You looked up at Alhaitham as you pressed the call button.

You heard the ding of the elevator arriving… only for the doors to not open.

You pressed the button again, it dinged again, and again… then the light of the elevator flickered out. Great, just your luck, the elevator decided to break down now of all times. Further embarrassing you in front of Alhaitham. Even though his face remains stoic as ever, he probably thinks your place is shabby.

“Ha ha, what a way to end a night. I guess I’ll be taking the stairs… You should call a cab to get back now.” You cringed a bit on the inside, why did you sound so awkward?

The stairwell door creaked open with all the grace of nails dragging down a chalkboard, the noise almost causing a headache to form as you begin your ascension up the gray stairs.

Only for your 6 flight journey to be halted at the second step as you stumbled. Once again, those new heels you were so excited to wear decided to rear their nasty face. Luckily, you were able to catch yourself on the solid hand railing. Sighing to yourself, you prepared to clutch onto it like a lifeline for the rest of your trek.

Suddenly your body felt weightless as two solid arms hoisted you up, and you felt your figure way too close to a warm, built frame.

“W-what are you doing??” Your hands were flailing as you did not know where to place them.

“Quiet, it’s past midnight and your voice is bouncing off the walls. Do you want a noise complaint?”

“That wasn’t my question! Haitham put me down I can walk!!”

“Oh really? Did you seriously not notice how many times you’ve been tripping and stumbling on your way back? It’s safer for me to just carry you, unless you prefer tumbling down the stairs.”

“N-no! I-”

Alhaitham seems to be ignoring your plight as your slaps on his shoulder and arms elicited no reaction. His firm grip on your body did not let up as he effortlessly ascended the stairs, even shifting your weight a bit when he went to open the door to your floor.

You were stone-cold sober at this point but your face was hot and flushed when Alhaitham finally placed you back down on your own feet at your apartment door.

You couldn’t muster up the courage to thank him let alone even look at him, in case he sees the obvious red tint on your cheeks. Keys fumbling in your hands as you tried to line it with the keyhole, a small click and turn of the brass knob has your apartment ajar.

What do you do now? Is this the final goodbye for tonight? Should you take a cold shower to purge these overwhelming emotions?

“Um… would you like to come inside for a glass of water?” You spoke those words before you could think it through. Great, you just prolonged your suffering, great job.

“Sure.” And much to your dismay Alhaitham agreed.

His teal eyes lazily observed the plush throw pillows on your sofa along with the soft blanket hastily thrown over the back of it. Alhaitham could hear you bustling in the kitchen as you prepared a glass of ice water for him.

In stark contrast to his own walls, yours was crowded with many photos like a timeline of your life. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he observed a photo strip taped onto the side of your college graduation portrait.

It was a cheap strip of laminated plastic from some mall photo booth, but your smile was radiant as you had one hand squeezing his face trying to get the stone-faced boy to crack a smile.

“Here, it’s on the house.” You clinked the frosty glass onto the coaster in front of him.

He felt the sofa dip a bit more as you plopped your body on the other side, letting out a content sigh, probably finally being able to feel your feet again. He knew those heels caused you great discomfort, but he almost wished for another glimpse.

“Thank you.”

Once more a comfortable silence encased the air between the two of you. Somewhere along the line, your hand found its way to his gray locks, gently running your fingers along his scalp.

“What shampoo do you use, ‘Haitham? Your hair is always so soft and voluminous. I’m kinda jealous.” He heard the amused quip in your voice.

He both yearned and despised whenever you pet his head. As your fingers continued to rake through his ash hair he couldn’t help the rush of blood that flowed south. Yet, a pang of annoyance was felt in his chest. ‘You still thought of him as a kid’ was the message he decrypted from your actions.

“Whichever brand is closest to me at the store. Or whichever bottles Kaveh left in the shower.” Alhaitham leaned a bit more into your touch.

“Tsk, of course.” He could hear the smile in your voice.

There was no end benefit to be gained from his feelings towards you. In fact, his life would’ve been so much easier if only his brain didn’t release dopamine the moment he hears the slightest mention of you.

As a person who prides himself on his objectivity and factuality, he could not explain why you were an outlier that skews his rationality.

The peaceful moment was shattered by the sudden pierce of your ringtone, the name that flashed across the screen caused Alhaitham’s eyes to narrow.

Manager Kimiya

The manager who has been the source of your frustrations, evident by your conversation back at the bar. Why was he calling you this late? Alhaitham observed the grimace on your face as you quickly retracted your hand from his hair, picking up the phone as you excused yourself back to the kitchen.

Why were you answering his call?

You were speaking in a rather hushed voice, even with Alhaitham straining his ears to try and hear just what was so important to warrant a phone call so late at night.

“Yes, of course…. No… I see… okay… yes… I understand… yes, goodnight to you as well.”

Before Alhaitham could stop himself, he found his form behind yours at the kitchen counter as you finally ended your call. Frown present at the corners of your lips.

“Why did he contact you this late?”

Your body flinched in surprise. Ah, so you did not even notice his presence behind you. As his teal eyes stared down at your smaller frame, he could feel the clawing of a green-eyed monster tugging against the restraints Alhaitham so carefully bounded it in.

“No reason, just work stuff… mostly.”

Mostly? Alhaitham pushed down at the monster, trying to bottle the disgusting foreboding envy.

“Why did you answer?”

“I just told you, Haitham. It’s for work.”

Alhaitham’s teeth ground against each other as he clenched his jaw. The monster was thrashing around violently.

“You didn’t have to answer.”

Your eyes closed in annoyance as you opened your mouth, a snarky reply ready to be thrown his way. Only for it to be stuck on the tip of your tongue as Alhaitham’s arms grasped the counter at either side of you. Pinning you between the cold granite top and his towering frame.

“Are you interested in him?” There was a dangerous edge to his low voice.

“Did you have too much to drink?” You whipped around in disbelief, annoyance dripping from your tone.

Your face was very close to his, nose almost touching, breaths brushing against each other’s lips.

“Answer the question.” His voice deepened further, a dark glaze over his eyes.

“I don’t.” You narrowed your eyes at him, inching your face closer as if to prove a point.

Alhaitham’s restraint of the beast began to slip. He needed a moment to grasp back onto it, to regain control. No, he could not wait any more, not one second longer.

It was as if all the past decade's worth of pinning that kept him up at night came rushing out. Bursting through the walls that Alhaitham spent years building to contain them.

It all rushed out in a messy, heated, and disgusting wave that washed over him and drowned his rationality as he slammed his lips into yours. Capturing the soft flesh into an all-consuming kiss. It was ugly, yet it felt so beautiful. So all consumingly beautiful.

Your brain was trying its best to regain itself as you recovered from the whiplash, you were kissing Alhaitham. His larger frame pushes your body up against the kitchen counter, cold stone pressing up against your burning skin. His tongue brushed against your lips hungrily, asking out of courtesy for permission. Your lips parted, allowing him access as your fingers tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck.

It was almost animalistic the way he devoured the air from your lungs, your head began to float as pleasure trailed up your spine. You harshly tugged at his ashen hair to break the near-airtight lock your lips were tangled in.

Barely getting two much-needed breaths in as your eyes connected with lustful teal before lips clashed once more. You tasted the sweet wine that still lingered on his tongue, the sweet taste of crossing a dangerous line.

Alhaitham released your lips then dived back into trail kisses from your glistening lips to down your face and neck. A pleased whimper escaped as you titled your head to the side, allowing him more access to your sensitive spots.

You now had two arms thrown around his neck, back arching as his large hands began to rub your thigh over the thin fabric of your stockings. The heat from his palms and the friction creeping up to your core. You felt the suction of his mouth against your neck causing you to press your chest more into his as you whined.

Two hands firmly gripped onto each of your legs then harshly parted them, allowing for Alhaitham’s solid torso to press up against your pulsing core. You couldn’t help the slight roll of your hips against his abs, your poor cunt begging for a crumb of attention.

The air was too hot, tension too thick, Your skirt now all bunched up as his fingers skillfully unbuttoned your shirt. You replicated his actions as you clumsily groped at his chest to locate the buttons of the dress shirt, your senses graced by the plushness of his pectorals.

It was animalistic the way Alhaitham was claiming your skin with his kisses, every now and then marking the tender flesh of your breast and neck. ‘Fuck, how can simple kisses feel so good’ was the thought running through your hazy mind, pressing his head more against you. A hardness making itself known against your neglected wetness. Excitement spiking up inside you.

“Wrap your legs around me.” He commanded.

You obediently did so, locking your ankles together behind his back, intentionally rubbing your cunt against his trapped erection. Alhaitham straightened his posture as he scooted your bottom off the counter, large hands digging into the flesh of your ass then firmly squashing your core against hardness.

The sudden movement causes you to let out a gasp. He shot you a look, warning that he did not have the patience to be teased.

Effortlessly he carried you into the bedroom, kisses still desperately being exchanged the entire time. Tossing you onto your messy sheets, he took a moment to admire how absolutely wrecked you looked. Cheeks flushed red, lips glossy from mixed saliva, eyes teary yet burning with desire. If you looked like this from simple kisses, he couldn’t wait for what you’d look like during the main event.

With you now on your back, more vulnerable, it gave him the opportunity to finally strip the blouse off your body, exposing more of your skin. Feeling a tug at his shirt.

“You too…”

When you asked so shyly with those pouty lips, how could Alhaitham refuse? A silent game began, as for every piece of clothing one shed, the other would follow. Your bra, his belt, your skirt, and his slacks were now littered across your floor. Hands greedily groping at each other's flesh, a large hand cupping your breast as your hand dipped to rub his bulge through his boxers.

“Excited?” Your confidence was boosted when you felt a small wet patch on the fabric.

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffed.

Hand releasing your breast to grope the contour of your pussy through your ruined panties. Harshly pressing against your eager clit, a moan tumbled out of your mouth. Alhaitham dropped his head right next to yours, baritone voice against your ear,

“See, you even soaked through your stockings. Just how wet are you?”

Long fingers began to trace along the slit of your cunt, lazily rubbing a circle on your clit before tracing back down. Your legs wanted to clamp down on his cruel hand but with his body pinning you down it was impossible. The message was clear, you were at his mercy.

“What do you want?”

A simple question he asked you, but your pride would not let you answer. That bastard knows what you want, your cunt was practically sobbing for something to be buried deep in it. But he still continued his slow, torturous movement, eyes locked on your expression. You faced away from him, unable to handle the intense glaze on your flushed face.

“Eyes on me.” His other hand squished your cheeks as he turned your face back.

Teal and orange eyes piercing into yours, you wanted to protest, he was being so mean. His perfect face only had a slight flush, while you were certain yours was a mess. Alhaitham must have sensed this as he nudged his thumb into your mouth, letting it rest against your pink tongue.

“Come now, use your words. What do you want?”

Pride be damned, the burning sensation between your legs overtook your reasoning as his other hand was now harshly circling your sensitive bud.

“Y-you.” You moaned around his thumb.

A smug look was now plastered on his handsome face, you weren’t sure if you wanted to slap it or pull him into another kiss.

“Good girl.” Looping his fingers into the waistband of your stockings, harshly tugging them down the length of your legs.

He definitely ripped them, but your brain was too busy processing the words he just called.

Shifting your body more onto the bed, he pried your legs open, giving him a direct view of your drenched panties. Snapping back into reality and suddenly now worried about your modesty you reached a hand down as if to shield your desire from his observant eyes. A quick slap to your hand echoed through the room.

“It’s a bit late to be embarrassed now.” The same hand pushed the ruined fabric to the side before a long, thick finger was thrusted inside.

Your head jerked back at the sudden intrusion, barely being able to bite back a moan. Your aching cunt now had a taste of what it craved so desperately, but now it only craved more. Something thicker, longer, heavier. It wanted more even as Alhaitham slipped another finger in with minimal resistance. Scissoring the digits inside of you, exploring deep inside as slick drooled out.

You tried to suppress your moans by biting down on the thumb that still lingered in your mouth. He sucked a breath through his teeth at your actions.

“Be nice.” He ordered, tearing his thumb out of your mouth at the same time as his fingers from your cunt.

His two fingers coated in your juices were then shoved into your gaping mouth, giving you a taste of yourself. Wordlessly you maneuvered your tongue against his fingers, cleaning the slick from the thick digits. His cock twitched when he felt you welcome his fingers deeper into the gummy walls of your mouth.

Alhaitham wanted to play with you more, to tease your clit and pussy until it was swollen and soaking the sheets below. However, right now, he did not have the patience as the length in his boxers raged angrily. Perhaps, if his plan goes well he can save that desire for another time.

He chuckled to himself, this is what you do to him, you turn him into a man so consumed by lust he would not even stretch you out with good foreplay. Your cunt felt wet enough, he could see how drops of slickness were trailing onto the sheets, you were ready for him. Finally releasing his member out of its confinement, he let out a small hiss that the feeling of his sensitive head rubbing along your slick folds.

“Wait,” you got up on your elbow as another hand pressed against his toro, halting his movement.

You swiftly reached over to your nightstand, digging through to find the box of condoms. You took a foil package out, turning back to Alhaitham you handed it to him. You did your best not to look at his member, but it was hard to when it was just that intimidating. On lonely nights, there were times you imagined what that tall, buff body hid beneath the layers.

‘Would the condom even go over it?’ you wondered as Alhaitham stiffly ripped open the foil. Fortunately, the condom was able to encase his length, you patted yourself on the back for getting the variety pack.

“Heh,” Alhaitham’s hands grasped the sides of your hips. “You were prepared.”

It could’ve been your imagination, but his calm tone felt forced. Almost as if he was angry, but Alhaitham never got angry at you.

“What’s the ma- AH!”

The concern died in your throat when the entirety of his length was thrusted into you. Your cunt clenching around him, not wanting to let go of the deep satisfaction of finally being full. Alhaitham let a quiet moan through his clenched teeth, pulling out halfway then snapping his hips back into yours.

Your hands desperately latched onto your sheets, twisting and pulling the fabric to try and ground yourself. The stretch had you stumbling over your words, never had you felt this full. He felt so heavy inside of you, deliciously dragging against your quivering walls.

Alhaitham followed the intrusion with a few slow thrusts, the squelch of your cunt welcoming his length sounded through the heavy air. The grip on your hips turned unyielding as his pace shifted, his hips settling on a punishing pace against your poor masochistic cunt. Moans leaving your lips without regard for your neighbors.

“Were you expecting this tonight?” He ended his sentence with an especially deep thrust.

You barely heard him over the wet slapping of skin, mind focused on how good it felt when his tip rammed into that one spot. Alhaitham noticed how your cunt contracted when he hit a particular place, quickly angling his hips to strike your weakness again, then again, and again. Each time he did you would let out a cry, tongue lulling out of your mouth. At this point, his fingers are for sure leaving purple marks.

“Is that why you were at the bar?” He continued.

The green-eyed monster clawed its way up inside him, if he had not gone to the bar earlier by chance, would you have shown this sinful face to someone else?

A voice at the back of his mind called for him to take you lovingly, to slow his pace, to caress your face with his hands and kisses. But the voice of the beast whispered in his ear to ruin you, use you to further his own pleasure, to pound the shape of his length into you. Yes, perhaps if he did that then no other man could ever satisfy you.

“So, who did you plan to take home?”

He thrusted his tip deeper, you swore it was hitting your cervix now. Breast bouncing along with his violent pace. A thumb dug into your swollen clit suddenly causing you to throw your head back as your mind came dangerously close to the edge of sanity. A delicious tension begins to form in your core.

“Answer. The. Question.” Each word was followed by a harsh thrust, as your bud was pinched between his two fingers.

“Ah- ah!” Was the only reply you could muster.

Alhaitham stilled his motion deep inside of you, heavy, thick member resting right up against your cervix. Fingers now cruelly rolling your abused clit in its grasp, making your toes curl and back arch.

He could feel your walls convulsing around him, begging for more of his punishing thrusts, not wanting the tension to dissipate. But he didn’t want to give that to you, not until you give him what he wanted.

“Who. Who are you thinking of? Are you imagining being pinned down like this by them?”

Your lust-hazed eyes looked into his with confusion, brain barely able to string together a coherent thought to process his question. As if he asked you the most elaborate philosophical question.

Even with your mind nearly liquefied by the heat of pleasure and vision blurred from tears, the self-loathing in his eyes was obvious. Releasing the sheets from your iron grip, you cupped his face as you pulled him into a soft kiss. The first of the night.

“Y-you ah!” You moaned against his lips.

His hand stilled for a moment, then quickly regained its pace rolling the bundle of nerves. His lips chased after yours, shallowing your moans as he pinned your body more into the mattress.

“Say it, confirm it.” A trail connecting your lips as he pulled away.

“Alh-ah! Alhaitham!”

A switch was flipped as his hips sprang back into motion, the push and pull rocking the bed as your hands found refuge on his broad shoulders. The tension only grew in your core with every blow against your weak spot in tandem with the circles he was grinding into your bud.

“Alhaitham! A-ah Alhai-yes, right there!” Shamelessly moaning out his name like you did on those desperate nights with your own fingers.

Your toes were curling painfully from the pleasure currently engulfing your entire body, your cunt full and hair a mess. Arching your body more into his solid figure as his unforgiving pace continued to abuse your grateful walls.

The wet slooshing of your slick as your hole welcomed his member over and over again no longer embarrassed. You were growing close, the ball of tension in your core was so close to snapping, you wanted sweet release so badly.

“P-please! Ah! Please!” You begged for him to let you fall into cloud nine.

Quickly understanding your plead, Alhaitham continued his the motion of his hips, making sure to strike that spot with more force as his thumb rubbed your clit faster. He dipped his head down to kiss along the edge of your tear stained face. The sensation of his teeth sinking into your neck was the catalysis that finally pushed you off the edge.

Your body pressed itself taught against his, walls clamping down like a vise around his member as the orgasm ripped through your body. Strangled moans against his ears as your vision turned white.

He removed his thumb from your clit, now even redder and swollen, as he bit more into your neck, the sensation of your walls trying to milk him dry almost brought him over as well. However, he couldn’t let it end so fast, not when he had fantasized about this moment for years.

He forced himself to drag himself out against the tight grip of your walls, then used his body weight to thrust back into you to continue with his rhythm. He felt his own release approaching as he stared at how your eyes were rolled to the back of your head.

‘Would you notice if I were to rip the condom off?’ He wondered as you were still on cloud nine, but your body still responding to his moves.

‘Would you even care? Would you want it too?’ The thought of painting your walls in white and watching as your cunt drank up his thick cum filled him with a dark desire.

He wanted to fill you with his essence, to claim you as fully his from the inside out, to steep into every fiber of your being. His hands found purchase on your hips again as he pinned your frame below him, thrusting deeper than he had ever before into you as he spilled himself into the latex.

His body shook against yours as he panted from the exertion.

The creaking of the bed stopped as Alhaitham pulled back to press sweet kisses to your temple, coaxing your consciousness back to reality. Using his fingers to wipe away the tears that still leaked from your eyes, as your pupils came back into view. Returning from their trip at the back of your head. There was a moment of stillness, as pants echoed through the air, breaths overlapping and caressing another.

You felt him shift, pulling his length fully out from your gummy walls. Your cunt clentched at the sudden emptiness. You watched as he grabbed a few tissues from your night stand, then proceeded to roll the filled condom off, disposing it into the paper.

You shut your eyes, chest still heaving at the exertion you had just put your body through.

The sound of condoms shaking against their cardboard box made your eyes snap back open. As you watched the ashen haired man shamelessly pull another foil package out of the container.

Oh… The night was still young.

The bright and pitched chirping of the birds outside stirred you from your slumber. Oh god, your hips were so sore, you questioned whether or not you would make it out of bed.

Two arms firmly encompassed your waist, pressing your back against the warm source of the pain in your hip.

As much as you hated to admit it, Alhaitham looked angelic when he was asleep. Usual stone face now relaxed and soft, the sunlight drawing blurred shapes along his skin and hair through your curtains.

You wanted to brush the hair out of his peaceful face, fingers reaching out then freezing as the reality of last night hit you.

You two had crossed the bold line that was drawn in the sand, now standing the cold ocean of the unknown. The questions of what your relationship had turned into violently crashed into you like unforgiving waves as you feel yourself beginning to drown in self-doubt.

Was this a one-time thing? A closeness you will never experience with him ever again? Was this the final chapter of the story of you and Alhaitham? Did you ruin years of trust and friendship?

The questions began to become overwhelming, you needed to get up, to just get somewhere to clear your mind.

Slowly your tried to shimmy yourself out of his firm hold, carefully trying not to rouse him from his slumber. Only for your plan to come crashing down as his arms tightened around you, halting your motion.

“Stay.” An uncharacteristic softness present in his tone.

You stilled your body, heart pounding so hard against your chest you were certain Alhaitham could feel it too. Just like how you could feel the rhythmic beating of his against your back.

His deep breaths brushed against your neck as he buried his face into the crook. Tension now hung in the air, but who was going to be the first to break it? Mustering up all the courage you could gather,

“Alhaith-”

“I found you a nuisance when I was first introduced to you.” He began.

You felt your heart sink at his confession, but he continued.

“The way you dragged me out to play, fed me snacks, and especially when you pet my head. I found it all annoying… It was annoying because it would cause me heart palpitations, my breath would hitch, and my face would flush. I thought I had caught a sickness from you, a sickness that made me addicted to your presence.”

Your heart was now jumping as if it wanted to burst from your chest, he buried his face deeper into your neck.

“Then one day I read a book that detailed my exact symptoms. Do you know what the diagnosis was? Love - an intense, deep affection for another person. That day when I proposed with that small weed, I discovered that I was in love with you.”

You froze, almost not believing your own ears.

“Well of course back then I did not meet your qualifications. I hoped that the sickness would disappear. No actually, I used to pray to gods I don’t believe in that they would take you out of my head, where you always seemed to haunt . They must have cursed me because as time moved on, my illness just got worse. It began to border on mania, madness. So, please listen.”

He turned your body in his arms so that you were staring right into his eyes, a hopeful and sincere glimmer present in the saturated teal.

“I love you, I adore you, I wish to wake up every morning to you in my arms just like this. I want to walk through life hand in hand with you. Your parents hold me in high regard. I will get a mocha with two shots of expresso, oat milk, and extra chocolate syrup every morning for you, I can even learn to make it. If you are worried about finances, if this company doesn’t agree to my raise by the end of two years I will search for another position that will.”

His fingers intertwined with yours as he brought your knuckles up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

“And I am confident in my ability to carry you no matter what wedding dress you dawn. So do I meet your qualifications now?”

His teal eyes looked into yours, yearning for your answer. Your eyes were wide and lips frozen. You were waiting to wake up in your messy sheets alone, fully clothed, and for the other side of the bed to be cold. This had to be a dream, this couldn’t be real.

However, the hot tears that clouded your vision and dripped down your cheeks felt too real to be an illusion. The look of adoration in his eyes was too genuine to be conjured up by your pitiful imagination.

“Could we… Could we take this slowly?” You whispered, squeezing his hands.

“Of course. I’ve waited for over sixteen years, I can wait a little longer.”

You buried your flushed face into his chest, he let your wet tears soak into his skin as he kissed the crown of your head. Embracing each other as if the other could disappear.

“I love you too.”

Fin~

DON’T PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS.

#al-haitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x reader #yandere alhaitham #alhaitham smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #alhaitham imagines #genshin impact x you #genshin impact scenarios #alhaitham scenarios #al haitham x you #al haitham x reader #alhaitham fanfic #alhaitham fluff #genshin fluff #vivalabunbunfics

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yestrday · 17 days

Text

: ̗̀➛ ALL OR NOTHING. yan! aventurine / gn! reader

it's a nice feeling to finally be on the winning side, feigning fairness when all the winning cards are in his hand. but it's not like you can fault him for cheating. after all, you who has nothing chose to challenge him, the one who will gain everything.

( overarching theme of sl4very, anim4l cruelty, anim4l death, bl00d, graphic description of violence, hinted obsessive behavior, im unoriginal and stole kafkas spirit whisper for reader ) + 7.5k words

"It's just a bet," he suggests, as if this gamble won't cost you your everything. "Juuust a bet. Exactly what are you so scared of?"

He sits laid back in his plush velvet chair, twirling a cocktail as he enjoys the finest luxuries in life. He is clad head to toe in the finest clothing, dressed like a peacock waiting to impress. You, on the other hand, feel more like the peahen— dreadfully drab in your rags and no choice but to watch as the peacock flaunts his feathers. You are knelt on the ground, but your eyes show no submission.

"I'm not crazy, gambler," you bite. "I know the IPC. They are full of shit. And you, Aventurine." Your eyes set on him with hatred. "You're the smelliest of the lot."

Aventurine, the gem of lies and luck, sighs dramatically. "Pup, you know I don't like it when you're so vulgar, y'know? I'm giving you a chance at freedom, so you ought to at least treat me at least a little bit nicer. I'm not the one who shackled you, so I don't understand what the aggression is all about."

"You're the reason why I'm here in the first place!"

"No, Jade was." He presses a finger to your lip and you'd bite it if it weren't for the annoying bind you were under. "Jade came across you and thought you and your talent would make for a nice gift. You were a gift and I'm just the receiver. So don't go barking up the wrong tree, pup."

"So." He leans back into his couch and shoots you a sly grin. "Up for round one?"

You are lost.

The meaning of Paths and their symbolisms are lost on you. You don't care for Aeons— no one on your home planet was. You were busy diving in dumpsters for a scrape of food, tricking your 'friends' into sacrificing themselves for you, and killing whatever was left of your humanity just to make it to another day. You walk on no Path but yours.

You don't even know which way you're going. So you are lost.

You think Aventurine is lost too.

He has every detail of his facade practiced. His gait is relaxed enough to not be intimidating, but not sloppy enough to be called out as bad posture. He talks in a smooth voice that eases fools and makes enemies wary, his smile is charming to sway the opponent into another gamble, his hair is fixed to frame his pretty face, and he chooses words that cannot be turned into loopholes. He is Aventurine. But he is not himself.

He does not care for the Preservation, but he rejects the Elation. He is on his own Path too, but he knows the destination he must reach— his 'End'. In that way, he is different from you, because you know not your journey or your ending. Still, he is just as lost as you.

But he makes a darn good show of not seeming that way. Right now, you watch as he throws the dice on the table, and the whole table watches with bated breath as they turn. A six and one— he lost the bet to the other's six and five. They cackle gleefully as they collect their earnings from Aventurine. They have chips upon chips on their side of the table while Aventurine's winnings are cut in half.

"I think I'll call it a day, pretty boy," the gambler cackles, greedily eyeing his earnings and possibly dreaming about the cash he's made tonight. "Even a gambler knows when to call quits, right?"

Aventurine pouts. "Aww, so soon? C'mon, the night's only begun! Who knows, play another round and you might just end up with more money than you have right now~"

The man laughs again, obviously not fooled by his pity act. "Boy, I'm not as addicted as you are. I know when to stop instead of letting you bleed me out dry." But Aventurine isn't fazed; rather, he snaps his fingers and you lower your head as you step to his side.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? [Y. Name], be a dear and persuade this gentleman into another round with me."

A glow of your eyes. Then you fix the man with an eerie gaze as you say, bright and clear, "Hey, you: Play another round with my master."

As if in a daze, the man's eyes cloud over and sit right back. Another round later Aventurine wins all his losses back and more, leaving the other gambler's side naked and bare of chips. The man is barely out of his stupor when he realizes what just happened— that he's fallen for a trick and now he's ended up with no money to even cover his lodgings— but you and Aventurine have sauntered out of the casino doors by the time he's begun cussing you out.

"Ha! That was fun." Aventurine shrugs off his jacket now that you're in the car and raises an empty champagne glass to you. "You're a good partner, [Y. Name]. Honestly, that Spirit Whisper of yours is such a nice trick. Just like that Stellaron Hunter, right?"

"... Kafka?"

"Yes, her. Enigmatic woman, isn't she? A bit ironic how those with such a powerful ability ended up as slaves. Her as Destiny's, and you as... mine." He gives your collar a little tug and you growl in warning, but you inch closer to him anyway. "So. Gambling. You up for that round?"

You scoff and grin at him with all teeth and no mirth. "You really think that a Cornerstone would bet on their slave's freedom?" Aventurine's own grin grows wider. "C'mon. Even Pteruges-V has better lies than you."

"Ah, right, your homeworld. No wonder you're so brazen all the time, even to your superiors. I forget that fear is a foreign concept to you people. Still," he raises your chin with a finger. "If you're so fearless, why not bet on a gamble? It's not like you're scared."

"There may be fools from my planet that you can trick with that taunt, peacock, but I'm not one of them. I'm fearless, not stupid. And with the way you're so eager to involve me in this bet, I'm beginning to suspect that you need this more than I do." You push him away. "So, no, master, I won't indulge you. I'll bide my time and look for an escape. Just like I've always had."

"And what?" He looks at you from behind his sunglasses. "Will you kill me to gain that freedom?"

You flash him a sharp grin, now amused. "Of course you'd think that, master."

The smile on his face is wiped clean. You really are a brazen thing, you.

Jade has always mentioned how soft Aventurine is on you. A dog of your attitude should merit a little more disciplinary action and even the good Doctor has told him this once or twice after seeing your arrogance despite the collar around your neck. "Your dog bites more than it deserves," Ratio scoffed while you made an action of biting him behind Aventurine. He frowned in displeasure. "You ought to make it learn a lesson or two."

"Now, now, doctor," Aventurine had laughed. "Not everyone shares the same sadistic tendencies as you." An image of you collared and shaking on your knees flashes through his mind, and he finds himself gulping. Ratio looks at him like he doesn't believe him.

It's not like he hasn't thought of it, of chaining you to the wall and starving you so that you learn that your attitude has its consequences. You shouldn't bite the hand that feeds you, not when he's been so good to you. But that... that was exactly the line of thought his old master had. That wicked man who put a brand on him and sullied his hands with his wretched man... he couldn't risk turning into a monster like... that.

Aventurine is weak. Unable to let go of past sentiments and memories, he makes it up with his grand display of bravado and high-stakes gambles. He gambles even as he spoils you, laughing at your audacity and even rewarding you for it sometimes, not knowing whether you'll leave him or if you'll stay with him. It is a gamble indeed, but you were worth every risk.

"What do you think of me, [Y. Name]?" The cityscape beyond the window is glowing with Pier Point's nightlife, and his suite provides him a good view of the world beneath him. He glances back at you, stirring his coffee for him. "Your dear master Aventurine. What do you think of me?"

"Annoying, stupid, a fool, an addict, and pathetic." You don't hesitate to badmouth your master. "You lie too well, you think that luck of yours will never run out, and you try to be someone that you can't."

"And who is that someone?"

Your eyes flash. "Someone strong. Someone confident. Someone who isn't afraid to admit his weaknesses and hope that things get better."

"I didn't peg you for an optimist, dear pet."

"Hmph. That's not optimism. I may not know what exactly fear is, but I know that what is holding you back isn't it. You do not fear things, gambler. You stake it all and bet on something so intangible as luck. That can't be fear."

"Then what is it?"

The stare you give him sets his heart off, looking straight into his eyes and giving a grin so devilish and knowing like that facade of his never mattered in the first place.

"You're a coward. A plain, old coward. Nothing more, nothing less."

That conversation had always popped up in his head in the most inconvenient of moments, especially when he was about to get some sleep. His heart beat faster every time he recalled that knowing gaze of yours, invading where he didn't want the world to see and baring his soul right before your very eyes. His facade doesn't work on you.

He could care less. You were the one person he didn't want it to work on, though he'd never admit that out loud.

This meeting with the other Ten Cornerstones could not interest him any less, and it seemed to be that way for the others too. Jade is saying something on behalf of Diamond, again, and everyone is busy doing their own thing. Only Topaz seems to be the one paying at least some attention, and even then she gets distracted by Numby from time to time. Aventurine glances at the clock.

He wonders how his pup is faring while he's away. Ecstatic, perhaps.

"— All evidence leads to an underground network that is scattered among numerous planets, though thankfully all of them are within the same galaxy. I'll be forwarding an email to you all with a detailed report on each of these. Just know that most of us will be likely deported to these countries to break up the—" In the middle of Jade's tiresome monologue, the security alarms start to blare and two officers slam through the doors with looks of urgency. One of them scans the room until his eyes land on Aventurine, and they quickly approach him.

"Sir!" They say, desperate and alarmed. "Your do— I mean, slave! They've– They've escaped!"

Surprise streaks across the faces of the Ten Cornerstones, even Aventurine's. He collects himself when he catches Jade's knowing smile and chuckles to himself.

"Well, I guess this is the master's consequence for not disciplining their pet."

Did he really think you were fucking stupid? Taking on a bet for your freedom... what a bunch of bullshit. He can proclaim about how much he loves a fair gamble, but you know that's only reserved for the people around the table. You are his slave, the one he demeaningly calls 'pet'— you don't have the chance to make your own dealings.

"Halt! In the name of Qlipoth, you better stop while we're giving you a chance." These IPC henchmen were slowpokes, the lot of them. You weave in and between salary workers, crashing trolleys full of wares and coffees and hopping between levels just to shake them off their tracks. By golly, they might be incompetent but Aeons damned they were nothing but persistent.

"Ha, the Devil Hunters were more annoying than them," you mutter to yourself, skidding around the corner only to come face-to-face with two IPC henchmen. They raise their polearms to strike, but with a chilling grin stretched across your face, you say: "Hey, you: Jump."

You don't look back to see whether they made the seven-floor drop.

This reminds you of the nights you spent back in Pteruges-V: making fools out of the prissy rich, jumping across buildings to shake of the Hunters, and using whatever you had to make things go your way. Not everyone had Spirit Whisper, but those who had made good use of it and you sure as hell wouldn't miss a single chance to use it.

Your mind runs with plans as you continue to run away. Maybe you'll find a nice ship to stow away on, hopefully, one that leads to a nice planet that isn't so stuffy and rigid. Maybe like Homberto-σ, out of sight from the IPC and where everyone minded their own business.

For what felt like forever trying to shake your followers off, you finally came to a stop when you realized that only the sound of your footsteps could be heard in this labyrinth of hallways and corridors. Finally having shaken them off, you sigh as you climb up the stairs to the rooftop. 'Just jump down and sneak off to the nearest hiding place you can find.' You tug at your collar and scowl. 'When I escape, not even this collar will matter anymore. Not when I'm somewhere they won't reach me.'

You've escaped so many life-or-death situations before. Escaping slavery is no different.

"Slave [Y.Name], subordinate of Cornerstone Aventurine, you are surrounded!" A voice blares through a megaphone the moment you step onto the roof deck. You hiss as multiple glaring lights settle on you, shielding your face from them and the helicopters' onslaught of wind. "Surrender now before we are forced to take extreme measures."

Through the gaps of your fingers, you can barely make out the men in black pointing their guns at your head, the red hot of the laser making you a point-blank target. You click your tongue. Those bastards tricked you into thinking you were safe. Fuck. You couldn't even be mad. This was all on you.

"Oh, little pup. I guess I really should have listened to them when they told me to discipline you." Aventurine's seedy voice sighs behind you, smirking as he nonchalantly strides up to you. "Did you really have to do all this instead of taking the bet? Do you really hate the thought of playing with me, hm?"

"Fuck off."

"No can do, little one, you know how much I'm obsessed with you, right?" He chuckles, catching your chin between his thumb and index and forcing you to look into his eyes. Those Sigonian eyes are covered by the cloudy purple of his glasses, but even you can tell just how much he's enjoying this mess you've put yourself in. "You know I don't have a need for your skill. I could easily persuade anyone without trying, but I still let you stick around. Pup, I can't just back away from you when you know how much I want you."

You smile darkly. "That's cuz you're a sicko who likes tugging on the chain instead of being in it."

Those pretty eyes of his darken for a moment, embittered by the snarky comment at his past, before his hands trail down to your collar, hooking it with a finger and pulling on it. "Dear, while I usually have the patience for your tirades, I'd rather not do it today. You've humiliated me enough in front of the entire Corporation. So—" Pulling once again on your collar, he starts to lead you to the door. "— Let us depart without much hassle, okay?"

Humiliation sears your nerves like a hot metal, a warning growl eliciting from your mouth as he continues to tug you away from the rooftop. Close, you were so fucking close. Here you are breathing in the fresh night wind, a jump away from freedom, but then these IPC idiots all had you fooled. You don't care how many bullets will embed themselves into your skin, all you just needed to do was get away from this grip Aventurine has on you.

You grab the wrist pulling on you, yanking him towards you. His eyes widen before narrowing again, as if not believing that you still had the energy to fight like you don't have red laser points on your forehead. "[Y. Na—"

"Hey, you: S—"

You couldn't even get another syllable out. Your collar beats a few pulses before it starts squeezing your neck, crushing your windpipes and forcing you down on your knees as you choke on your blood. It sears hot around your neck and you collapse writhing on the ground as you sob and gurgle on your screams and congealed blood.

'WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY ME—' You can only curse and scream inside your head as you painfully thrash on the cement. '— A BILLION BASTARDS IN THE WORLD AND IT HAD TO BE FUCKING ME.'

Darkness is pushing in on you and the pain is making it too hard to go on, but you've always been a fighter. Even if you think that your squirming is pathetic and futile to the onlookers, you continue to tug and pull on the collar like you have a chance. Your ears are ringing and your eyes are too fucking blurry to see with, but the fight doesn't die down.

Aventurine places a soft palm on your hair. Even through the tears stinging your eyes, you can barely make out the faint expression on his face. Damned fucking bastard, damned Signonian, hypocrite and the fucking devil—!

He even has the audacity to look sad for you, as the light slips away from your eyes.

The first round is simple. Play a round of poker with him.

Aventurine hums delightedly as he shuffles the cards with clean and practised movements, looking right at home at the dealer's table he has sitting in his suite. You blankly look at the cards, not even an inch of a reaction from your side. He chuckles as he deals your cards.

"C'mon, look alive, dear." It's almost like he genuinely wants you to cheer up. "Look, I even poured out alcohol for you. It's not everyday that you get to taste Pier Point's most exquisite wine!"

You continue to stare blankly. You haven't given up yet, of course not, but... you can barely bring yourself to move.

When Aventurine is done dealing all the cards, he leans back on his chair and studies his opponent, just like he always has in the past. If you were acting normally, this would have been an easy win. After all, you always wore your heart on your sleeve and abhorred being told to control your emotions. You acted the way you felt— you curse when you anger, you boast when you're feeling smug, and you press your lips together and blush as he praises you for another job well done.

But now. Well. Bandaids cover the seared marks on your neck as well as your head after you've slammed it against the pavement during your delirious fit on the rooftop. Your arms are littered with purples and blues, the aftermath of a disciplinary session that went on throughout the night. Despite the abuse that Aventurine has (rightfully, in his mind) dealt to you, he had made sure to tend to you afterwards.

Settling your head on his lap, combing through the strands as he placed an icepack on your bruises. He hummed you an old children's rhyme from his home planet as you lay limp across the couch. You could barely move, mind unable to process the pain and despair of having an inch of freedom being ripped away from you. He had wiped away the tear that would fall from your eyes.

You couldn't feel comforted at all.

"This will be the first round out of four. Today, we'll make this a bit simple. Five quick rounds of Indian poker. If you're confident that your card is higher than mine, you can bet as much as you like. Not confident? Fold, and that won't count as a round. Loser has the lower card." He raises his glasses to his hair and smiles at you. "Understood?"

"Understood," you grunt. "I'm not a fuckin' idiot."

Aventurine only smirks. It irritates you, but you don't have much fire in you to snap at him.

The room is silent save for the clinking of chips against each other. The two of you cast a chip to the middle of the table. You raise your card to your forehead.

You cast two more chips. Aventurine casts three. You stare at the printed picture on his card and throw in another chip. He throws in another five. You frown.

"Fold."

"Ah~ You should've been more confident in yourself!" Aventurine chuckles as he begins to shuffle the deck to deal another round. You scowl at the Ace of Clubs in your hand, mocking you at your relinquished defeat. "Is a little intimidation all that's needed to make you submit? You weren't this docile before."

"Shut the fuck up and let's play again." He decides to stifle his laugh for the sake of your nerves.

"Raise." Your win, six of hearts to three of spades.

"Raise." Your win, queen of spades to jack of hearts.

"Fold." Could've been Aventurine's, ace of spades to king of spades.

"Raise." Aventurine's win, eight of clubs to six of hearts.

"Fold." Could've been yours, queen of hearts to 10 of clubs.

"Raise." Aventurine's win, nine of clubs to seven of spades.

Aventurine's practiced hands thumb through the cards as he begins to rearrange them again. His glass wine is almost empty, while yours is untouched. The man knows that you don't drink, so why would he...?

"Last round before one of us wins," Aventurine's voice lilts as he throws you your card. "How about we make it exciting? No one is allowed to fold this round." You frown at him but don't say anything. You cast another chip to the table, and he follows suit.

He has a 10 of spades pressed to his forehead, and your fingers dig deep into your skin.

'Oh please, there's other cards higher than a 10.' You remind yourself, but you gulp down your dry throat as your vision zeroes into his card. 'Jack, Queen, King, Ace. Anything. Please.' Aventurine notices your hurried breathing and smiles knowingly. You gulp whatever cowardice is rising in your throat and throw another chip.

"Raise." Fuck it. If this is the last round, then let's just ball.

He cocks his head, finding the motion unnecessary in this last round. But he sighs with a smile and plays along, casting his chips into the fray, "Then I'll raise too."

"This is the last round," you say, more so to remind yourself.

"Yep." He leans forward on the table and the fluorescent lights cast a shadow over those alluring eyes. "Nervous?"

'How could you say that? How could you taunt me like that? When you were just like me?'

You strengthen your resolve and glare up at him, the fire lighting back up in those blank eyes. "I hope you go to hell."

You throw your card to the middle, with the rest of the chips.

Jack of Clubs.

Aventurine cocks his head at you, smiling as usual.

"Congratulations, pet."

One would expect that Pier Point was the peak embodiment of wealth and luxury, being the base of the Interastral Peace Corporation. But the brightly something shone the darker its shadows.

Aventurine just so happened to like those shadows, even shrugging off those fancy clothes of his just so that he could find solace in those sleazy bars and play rounds of poker with dead-eyed salarymen and recently fired hopefuls.

The surroundings didn't fare any better. Amongst the dying neon lights, Pier Point's worst neighborhoods featured a just as nasty environment. Drunkards lying beside dumpsters with shattered beer bottles around them, cats hissing at each other in a fight for survival, and abandoned children peeking at them around the corner as they lay in wait for an opening.

Aventurine has shedded his elaborate peacock coat in favor of a simple white button-down and slacks. Despite the simplicity, he still looked out of place amongst the rags, though it made people think of him as a fearless idiot rather than run away at the sight of the IPC's elite.

"Mmm, that robin is indeed very plump," the blonde idiot remarks out of nowhere. "Quite out of place for this kind of area."

You pay him very little attention, mindlessly kicking the broken half of a bottle with your heel. It bumps into a smelly bastard who shoots you an irritated look, but quickly cowers when you return it tenfold. "Maybe it's been feeding on the leftovers of you prissy IPC folk," you spat, taking a look at the fat robin for yourself.

He takes no notice of the slight towards his kind and instead cocks his head at the cat slinking around the corner. "Well. Its health has attracted a rather unwelcome predator." He turns to you, with a mischievous smile. "How about we make this round two? Who will die first, the cat or the robin?"

Seriously? You were betting your freedom on something as stupid as this? You consider the cat— snarling, insipid thing, balding and thin as a stick— then the robin, tweeting fearfully at its perch on the graffitied wall. "Am betting on the cat. Could eat the fat thing while you go on another gamble."

He laughs, sliding on his shades as he walks into the seedy bar. "Then I have no choice but to bet on the poor robin. Let's have some fun before we see the results of our bet."

The cat is lying on the ground, heaving its last few breaths. Its yellow eyes are barely peeking out from its eyelids, probably delirious and starving in its last moments. You poke it slightly with your foot.

It meows pitifully. You instantly feel bad.

It might just be the ugliest thing you've laid your eyes on, but even the ugliest creatures deserve some sort of companionship in their last moments. It hisses weakly when you draw your hand close, but it can't do anything but relent as you stroke its hairless head. It purrs a bit, ragged and breathy, but the heaving of its ribbed chest slows as it relaxes.

"Don't do that," you murmur. "Just... just be quiet. It's okay."

The quiet steps of leather shoes stop beside you, and Aventurine watches on in silence as you comfort the dying thing. His gaze moves from the cat to the robin, still perched on top of the wall with his fat little chest and beady eyes. It hasn't moved from its position at all, just... staring and staring.

"So—"

"I know," you murmur, focus still on the poor thing. "I know, okay?"

The fat robin chirps again, tittering with its mocking chirp, before it flies away into the sky.

Your cat closes its eyes shut, and its skinny chest finally slows to a stop.

Aventurine stays with you for a while as you find a nice spot of earth to bury it.

No matter how much you want to believe your preconceived image of the blonde gambler— irresponsible, materialistic, money-wasting— you can't just make up lies about him in your head when all of his missions end on a win for him. Right now, he's heading for another mission in a galaxy far away again. And like always, he's dragged you along whether you like it or not.

"Come on, you like sightseeing other planets!" He laughs on the space warp going there. "Makes your blood pumping, scouting out the possible planets you can run away to."

"If I can run away," you grumble, not wanting to acknowledge him as you stare out the window and into the starry expanse of galaxies and space. This sight has always unnerved you— a reminder of how small and insignificant you are. How small and insignificant this collar hand on your life.

"It's not like you to be such a downer," he huffs. He pats the empty seat beside him. "Come, come. Drink with me. Ah, but no alcohol though. Don't want you trying to bite my entourage as soon as we get off." He's referring to the time that you had two sips of the lightest alcohol the ship had in stock before you absolutely wasted and decided that running away to the next planet was a good idea.

You grunt but sit on the floor next to his feet. He doesn't dare to correct you but only regards you with amusement before handing you a glass of sparkling water. You've always had this weird insistence of maintaining your master-slave status quo, despite abhorring your status as a slave. You followed his commands to the tee no matter how dangerous but refused to budge whenever he insisted on treating you like an equal.

"Don't get me wrong," you had snapped at him angrily one time. "As long as I'm in this stupid collar, I am not your fucking equal. So don't go around treatin' me like one, got it?!"

"You got the briefing, right? I'll be dismantling an underground operation on our next planet, so I'll be making good use of your Spirit Whisper." You sip your drink and make no reaction. "I'm sure you have no complaints about that, right?"

"Like I have a fuckin' choice."

He laughs into his cocktail. "Right. How could I forget?" Your eyes narrow into slits when he threads his thin fingers through your hair, but you don't make any move to remove them. "Unfortunately, this isn't an operation that I can just charm and gamble my way through, so you'll be doing a lot of heavy lifting. But so long as I have you, my dearest pet, I'm sure we'll be done before we know it."

You fight the urge to give into his tender touch, massaging your scalp as he combs your strands, though your eyelids are drooping now. He chuckles fondly when you rest your chin on the sofa, right next to his thigh. Adorable, how easily you succumb to the smallest of physical affection.

"Just take a nap," he hums. "We'll be there before you know it."

Aventurine's lavish outfit is a stark contrast against the nitty and gritty environment of the gambling den the two of you are staking out right now. Some of the men leer at him when he passes by, their faces painted by sweat and malice, and the promiscuous women bat their eyes at him with painted-on sweet smiles. No one bats an eye at the collared servant trailing behind him.

You try not to wince as you accidentally make eye contact with another slave, them kneeling on the ground with only rags to cover them and you have the luxury to look away as you grip the sleeves of your ironed button-down. You decide to just fix your eyes on Aventurine's back for the rest of the journey.

The next room you enter— less room to be honest, and more... coliseum-y— features a fighting ring where the crowd cheers on two dogs circling each other under the fluorescent spotlights. The other one, bigger and scarred, is baring his teeth while bearing a deep red gash across his body. The smaller one is shivering but giving the same energy back, snarling in intimidation while also sporting a noticeable limp. Despite the darkness of the room, you don't miss the way Aventurine's face contorts into disgust as he looks at the fight and surveys the crowd of spectators.

"Disgusting," he murmurs. You don't say anything back, though you doubt he could hear you amidst all this cheering. You used to bet on dogs too, back in the day. It was quick and easy money, and you had better things to worry about than the fate of some mutt.

While you're focused on the pathetic dog show in front of you, he steps to your side and nudges you with his elbow. "Willing to bet?" He asks, eyes focused on the show. "As our third round."

"From the look on your face, I thought you hated this kind of thing."

"I do, but I'm not putting money in the pot like the rest of them. This is strictly between you and me with no money involved." He turns his gaze to you. "So, what about it?"

You study the dogs. They've been circling each other for a while now, and the crowd's been growing more and more agitated by the lack of fighting. You think of the dogs you've bet on before, how the smaller ones had just an equal chance of success at winning as the bigger ones. Unconsciously, you tug at your collar. It matches perfectly with the stupid dogs down below.

"Bet," you huff. "I'm taking the smaller one."

You don't know why. It'd make sense to just bet on the bigger and badder, but maybe it's that ferocity in his eyes even if it's overshadowed by the growling menace that has you feeling for it. It's stupid, you know, betting your freedom on a hunch and emotions. But...

If it could have a chance at winning... then why can't you?

...

... Are you destined to die, just like it?

... Are you destined to die as a slave for another IPC slave?

... Will your death be just as morbid and pathetic as the mongrel, his innards spilling onto the pavement while the winner is pulled away by the collar, with no prize but another day of freedom?

This is round three out of four. You've only won one so far.

The very next round could kill you. Could completely sign away your freedom.

Shit shit shit shit shit. Why'd you have to go feeling sorry for the stupid shit? Why'd you have to empathize with its futile fight? Why'd you have to go see yourself in it? Now you could very much share its fate, dying pathetically serving for people who never cared about you in the first place.

Shit shit shit shit shit. The pressure of the bet has always been at the back of your mind, niggling at your brain. But now you can feel its heavy weight squeezing around your heart, in perfect rhythm with the phantom choking of your collar. If you don't win the next, you could very much—

Something light touches your shoulder and you lurch back like you had been stricken there. It disgusts and scares you, sending both repulsion and fear through your body like maggots wriggling into your system.

With a faltering outstretched palm, Aventurine's eyes widen behind his glasses. He sees something on your face, enough to make him bite down whatever cocky shit he has to say, and turns his back towards you.

"Let's go," he says, just barely audible above the crowd. "We still have a mission to complete.

"This is some silly joke of yours, isn't it?" Aventurine maintains his cool facade, but even then there is disgust in his tone as he speaks to Jade. "Giving a slave to another... you must think this is hilarious."

"Amusing, maybe, but this little one is too precious to let loose in the wild." Jade strokes your head, and while you curse in warning, you don't move to attack. "A user of Spirit Whisper, a rarity even among those in Pteruges-V. Don't you think it'd be better if they served the Amber Lord rather than going back to their pretty crimes?"

"Then give them to someone else." Aventurine turns his back on you and Jade. "Since when did I need help closing a deal?"

"Well, I just thought that you were lonely."

"And you think gifting me a slave of all things would help me?"

"Oh, just give them a chance. I'm sure you'll like this one. Look." Jade raises your chin with a finger, lifting your bruised face to the light. You shoot her a glare, plotting murder in your head, but you don't try to fight back. You might have tried once, probably, and learned your lesson. "Don't you love the fire in their eyes, even after being collared and brutally beaten?"

It is sick. It is sick how Jade can just easily muse about your past abuse to his face. To him. It is sick how the IPC thinks that Aventurine would even be happy about this... gift, let alone accept it.

"I appreciate the... thought." Jade smiles at the barely held back distaste in his voice. "But I'd really rather not."

"Oh, I see..." Jade hums, tilting her head to scrutinize you. "But no one else will accept you since you're too feisty for their liking. So I guess..."

"We'll just have to kill you."

Your face pales. Aventurine has never been quick to turn around.

"Fine. I'll accept," he says with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. "I'll accept your gift, so just..." He sighs, massaging his temples and waving Jade off. "Go away and let us be."

"Is this some sort of savior complex you have going on?" Despite being a slave, you haven't really learned how to hold that spiteful tongue of yours. Half of the fault lies with Aventurine, seeing how he's never bothered to scold you for it. He looks away from the reports in his hand and smiles at you.

"Oh, whatever do you mean, my dear pup?" Your bitter scowl is pushed down even further at his sweet tone and you scoff.

"I mean," you say, gesturing all around you. "You never scold me, you give me good food, you do all these nice things for me. You don't beat and lash at me like others do. Are you feeling sorry? As one slave to another?"

"Personally, I've never heard of a slave complain about treating this well."

"It's weird." You frown. "It's weird and creepy. All these niceties yet I can tell that you don't even mean half of 'em. Your heart isn't in it. You're just doing it for the sake of being nice. So I don't get it." You cross your arms and lean on the couch, deep in thought. "If you don't even mean it, why even bother?"

Aventurine hums, studying your silent and pondering figure before returning to his papers. You don't follow up your complaints with anything else, and the two of you are left to stew in the silence.

... Why even bother indeed?

"Last round and you only have one win, pup." His sickly sweet voice croons, tapping his perfect nails on the table as he watches your expression. "Are you excited?"

Normally you'd bite back, but today you thickly swallow. The looming sense of doom continues to hammer into the back of your skull, spiking your nerves with every beat and shaking your senses. You can barely feel your fingers. You can barely feel except for the fear coiling around your heart.

"... Yes." You can't even barely say a syllable.

Through the rushing blood of your ears, you can barely make out the sound of your master rummaging through something. Something metallic clicks into place and he slides it to the center of the table. You will yourself to look up—

A shiny revolver lies on the table.

A surprised cry elicits from your mouth and you jolt back. The sight of a weapon is enough to startle your poor nerves now and even more so the expectant look glinting in Aventurine's eyes. He smirks and leans forward.

"How about I make an offer you can't refuse?" Not that you were in a position to do so. "Since this is the fourth round, how about we go all in?"

"Russian Roulette. Whoever wins stays alive—"

—And the other lays dead in a puddle of their own blood.

It goes unsaid, but the moment you locked eyes with Aventurine, it was clear that the both of you were thinking of the same thing. You could ponder upon why the Aventurine would stake his own life over something so trivial as your freedom, but you aren't thinking anymore. All you want is your freedom. All you want is to get away.

You don't think further as you wrap your fingers around the handle of the gun and press it to your temple. You pull the trigger. Only a clean click follows, the chamber changing cases. You slide the gun over to him.

He calmly picks it up and slots it to his temple too. "Why are you so desperate to get away from me, pup?" He cocks his head. "I would give you everything you ask for, should you just ask. I treat you with care and as a friend. Is being with me so bad you'd put your life on the line for your freedom?"

He pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He slides it over to you.

"Even if you go back to your old life, what would be the point? You'll go back to stealing whatever you can off nobles, treating your fellow street rats like fools and pawns before dashing off to your next victim. Would that give you happiness? Fulfillment? Is that the life you prefer instead of being next to me?"

"Sh... Shut up." You sound drained, but he presses on.

"You can have it all, in the price of a collar. Does it not sound good enough to you?"

'Why... Why of all people is he...'

"Do you really hate being owned by me?"

"Why are you..." You choke on your words, grip around the handle trembling. "Why are you saying those things?"

Aventurine has never seen you cry. Not once. Not even when he had to punish you for running away. You could be weak and beaten, but you never willingly cried. But now...

He raises a hand to cover his smile.

"I thought... I thought you of all people would understand." Tears drop to your lap and your hand lowers the gun from your temple. "The pain, the humiliation of being a slave, of being owned. It doesn't matter how nice you are to me. I just want to be free. Shouldn't that be enough?"

Silence overtakes the room as Aventurine takes in the unfamiliar sight before him. Here you were, his greatest treasure, the most vulnerable than you ever were. Sobbing and weeping with a gun in hand, the pressure of the bet finally getting to you.

He moves. "... So this is it? For your pride?"

You wince, looking at him in betrayal. "You... I thought you of all people would at least understand..." You stay silent, the words forming on your tongue but too afraid to sound them out. Then your expression twists into anger, then resolute determination, before you wipe away your tears and glare at him like you always did. "I was wrong. You're scum. Just like the rest of 'em."

The moment the head of the gun points at his head, the collar clamps down and chokes you till your throat cracks and bleeds. The current of electricity crackling your nerves is just as painful and torturous as last time, but you grit your bloodied teeth and press the gun further.

Aventurine looks dazed, staring up into your bloodied face. If you weren't in such agonizing pain you would have laughed at how stupid he looks.

"[Y. Name]..."

"I hope you go to hell," you hiss through the bloody pain. "And I hope that when I get there, I'll never have to fucking see you again."

You pull the trigger to that beautiful face of his, but nothing happens once again. Fuck. It falls to the ground as the pain overwhelms you and you finally stagger. It lays among the specks of blood on the carpet, along with its empty... case...

Your eyes flick to Aventurine, still caught off guard and staring at you with wide eyes. Hesitantly, he reaches out to your convulsing body and cradles your head. "[Y. Name]..." He says, still sounding dazed. "Why would you..."

"Fuckin'... coward..." You grit out. "I was right... from the very start..."

Aventurine watches as you succumb to the pain and collapse in his arms. Despite being unconscious, the collar continues to shock and choke you, and more and more blood spouts from the side of your mouth and into the carpet. He tries to wipe it, despite it continuing like a fountain, before giving up and stroking your hair as the pain continues to intrude on you in your sleep.

"I know," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your eyelid. "You know it as well as me." He presses a kiss onto the other.

"You were never a bet I was willing to wager."

#yandere honkai star rail #yandere aventurine #yandere hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine #yandere x reader #yester.writes

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