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neonovember · 1 year

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Oh my GOD oh my for okay though that new fic you wrote with Carmy? 12/10 chefs kiss mwah mwah MWAH!! 💕💕💕 That part with Carmy going ballistic and beating the shit out of that asshole customer I LOVED it!! Now it’s got me thinking of Carmen going absolutely feral, just insane if he’s in the kitchen cooking and calling orders, while you’re out front taking orders from customers. He and the rest of the kitchen just go silent and stop in their tracks when they hear a guy just screaming at the top of his lungs at you, using the absolute most vile words against you and Carmen just sees red, especially if whoever it is ups and yells something along the lines of “You stupid fucking whore-“ and Carmen’s just a blur as he POUNCES on this guy. (Richie’s either cheering him on or trying with all his strength to claw Carmen off before he straight up kills the guy)

Office Doors

Oooh you guys are spoiling me rotten with these requests…I love a good feral fic every once in a while and this one was..well you'll know what i'm talking about once you've read it ;) I haven't written Carmen in a day and I miss him already, school has been up my ass so if you have sent me a request, don't worry it's being written, and re-written and-. Thank you anon for getting my gears going and your lovely messages 🥰🥺 ur support means the world

warnings: swearing, objectification and misogyny, angst, oral (f recieving), smut, thigh riding (?), porn with plot, feral!carmen

carmen berzatto x reader!

(This is totally and completely canon btw)

You stretch your body across the diner tables, dipping a dirty cloth into lukewarm soapy water before rinsing it out. The lunch rush had just slowed to a even pace, the sound of Carmen yelling out dishes from his line finally quieting down.

You have just a little time to spare, and you spent that time quickly wiping down the Beef’s tables that had begun to accumulate a few too many stains and unfinished crumbs of bread.

You had grown up in a home that was always messy, all the time. And no matter how much times you had asked, and no matter how much times you had just done the chores themselves, the clutter of dirty dishes and old wet clothes in the laundry had permanently been embedded into your family home.

It’s partially why you had loved the sterile laboratory of you culinary kitchens. Clutter caused your skin to itch with anxiety, it made you feel dirty, and with the way you scrub the diner tables a little too hard you wonder if it's another one of the many joy’s your family had given you.

And whilst the Beef was so different from your environment back in culinary school, it wasn’t necessarily worse. In fact, you had grown to fall in love with the quirks of the kitchen, the ‘fuck you carmen’ napkin holder, the too small walkway, the framed pictures of beloved regulars and the staff’s families. Most of all, however, was the family you had built here, the kind you couldn't find working under a domineering CDC.

The kind that had always been waiting for you, been planted deep into the earth like roots.

Besides, you and Carmen had bonded together during the late nights after most of the family had gone home. Were you both were left, scrubbing the floor together in a rhythmic silence that seemed to be more therapeutic than work.

You’ve nearly finished wiping down the last of the stools perched against the counter top of the front when a loud guffawing causes you to break your trance-like state.

Jovial yelling breaks into the rarely quiet restaurant as the door swings open, and a stream of rowdy men dressed in pullovers and fleece jackets, with scarves and basketball hats of distinct sport team colours wrapped around their necks.

One man is fully decked out, sporting the jersey and beanie of what seemed to be a hockey team. The boom of his voice indicates he was the loudest too, unaware of the grumble of patrons around the restaurant that had grown annoyed at the man's violent rambling.

You breath out a sigh, finishing off wiping down the bar stools and putting the bucket of dirty water under the front counter. Before ironing out any creases in your apron and preparing yourself for the absolute headache this would cause.

They were a familiar bunch, usually coming in after games late after the dinner rush. It seemed there was a game during the early morning, as they grumble about not having anything to eat the entire day.

Their loud and annoying and swear too much and Carmen hates the way one of them looks at you but they order a shit ton of food and fuck if the bear needs money, what can you say.

Your eyes glance at a cup of coffee Richie had accidently left under the register, and you suddenly crave your afternoon pick me up well after the afternoon. The men begin walking up to the register, ignoring your polite greeting and going straight into listing off items from the menu as if you were a machine. You nod along all the words they were saying, and soon enough you give up on writing it down as they’ve practically ordered the entire menu safe for a few appetiser's.

“Make it quick, yeah? We’re bloody starving '' One of the men calls out from his seated position in one of the booths and you give them a tight lipped smile, resisting the urge to throw that coffee mug at him.

Carmen peeks his head from the entryway leading to the kitchen, his unruly ashy blonde curls falling to the sides as he shares a look with you, as if to say ‘you alright? And you nod in that unspoken way the two of you have and tell him that you can handle it. Working in a kitchen didn't have to teach you how to deal with assholes, you had your family to thank for that one again.

You hear the familiar sound of Carmen shouting out orders, and the sizzle of pans and boiling pots increase in order to push out the lengthy order before more foot traffic would pour in.

You’re trying to fix the register when it happens, something gets caught in the old janky machine, causing the cash drawer to get stuck as you have to hit its sides at a certain angle to get it to open up again. Years and Carmen refuses to get it fixed, or buy a new one all together, resorting to having it taped up and banged every couple hours to get it working again.

You almost don’t see him, until he is leaning against the counter, into the space between the cash register and you, a greasy smile pulling at his features and he watches you. You bite back a grimace at the way his eyes trail down your apron, fixated on the dip of skin that peeks from the top of your shirt.

“Something you need Sir?” You ask politely, taking a tentative step back, your hand gripping the edge of the counter.

The man smiles strangely at your comment, cocking his head to the side before replying suggestively

“I definitely want something”

You cough, biting back your knee-jerk response to hurl at him, you can feel the burn of embarrassment against your cheeks and you swallow as you try to reply with a steady response.

“You’re food will be out in a short-while-”

“You know, I think I’ve seen you around here, are you new to town?” The man tries to strike up a conversation

“Came here a few years ago and haven’t left since” You reply with a tight smile

“Ah! I know where you're from exactly now” The man replies with a grin that pulls his face upwards, it's eerie, his smile, like he knows something he shouldn't.

“There’s this porn star online, looks exactly like you, it’s kind of insane” The man replies with a smile that deepens as you stammer

You feel humiliated as you stare back at him, you don’t know what to say, and his eyes continue trailing down your body in a way that makes you feel disgustingly objectified. He’s reduced you to an object for him to gawk at, and you see the way the men behind him jeer and laugh that this is all a play to intimidate you.

You want to run straight home and scrub yourself clean, wash away the feeling of his imprinted gaze down the drain.

“You think we can recreate one of her videos when you get off work here?” The man replies, a glint in his eyes.

“What? You- you” You stammer and he breaks out into a laugh

“Awh, look at her, fucking shaking. Don’t tell me this is your first time?” The man eggs on to his friends, who have begun laughing and cheering him on.

You grit your teeth, trying to get the words out as you glance towards the kitchen, where was he? He leg twitches in want, wanting to get Carmen, wanting to run from the restaurants, wanting to run from the embarrassment and disgust you felt.

The flashes of Richie and Syd passing by is all you can see, the booming voice of Carmen being too wrapped up in the orders to notice what was happening.

“C'mon, just give me your number” The man presses on, leaning in so that only you can hear “It isn't like I don't know where you work” Before he leans back, muttering a halfhearted kidding under his breath

“You are disgusting” You spit out, trying to sound as confident as you can, and the mans eyebrow twitches, and he cocks his head like he was confused.

“What? I’m doing you a favour here, I'm actually a nice guy you know? Not one of those assholes on the street” The man scoffs, moving closer towards you and you have a feeling the man is waiting for a reason to lunge at you.

“Just, just take your food and your buddies and go alright? There doesn’t have to be a fight or-or” You continue, trying to de-escalate the situation and get him to just leave you the fuck alone.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m doing you a fucking favour and now your kicking me out?” The man begins to get heated, and his friends behind him watch on in silence, you can notice other customers begin to look your way, sensing the rising anger filling the room. You slowly step back, looking for something to shield yourself in case he comes at you.

“What, you think because you work you have some- some what, control? I don't think you know how this works doll, you give me your number, and I dump my load in you because your nothing but a stupid fucking whore” The man bellow, it’s so loud that it echoes through the Beef, that it reaches even the kitchen sinks where Manny is washing up.

The man’s face grows red as the veins near his neck begin to pop out, he emphasises the last word, spitting it out like that was all you were.

The restaurant goes silent as the man heaves in exertion, the sound of Carmen shooting out orders is mute now, the slice of steel against bamboo stops, and the bear is fucking quite for the first time since it opened.

Your body is pushed against the wall, near the swinging doors into the Kitchen, and you can see Carmen back to you, he has stopped cutting at his station, and the outline of muscle contracts under his white shirt.

Carmen turns, slowly, he turns to the family, as they all momentarily stop their tasks in shock at what they had just heard. He begins to chuckle a little to himself, as he replies in a quiet voice you and the man can still hear.

“What did he just say?”

“Did he really say that? Did he really?” Carmen laughs to himself, nodding and gripping his hands into tight fists as the restaurant air gets thin. The man who had been screaming at you looks towards Carmen in confused fear, not knowing why this man was laughing and yet understanding he had completely fucked up.

The rest of the patrons can hear Carmen’s words, eyes widening, as they realise they were about to be collateral to a very one sided beat down. The crew looked at Carmen in silence, they had been used to Carmen's hot-headed temper, his bursts of anger that was more passion than rage. But this? This quiet silence of Carmen’s words, the way his chest heaves as you glances at your frightened position against the wall? They genuinely feared what he would do next, a silent rage like no other begins to envelop the restaurant, the air thin and suffocating as Carmen begins to walk through the kitchen and into the front counter.

“Don’t call an ambulance this time” Carmen mutters to Richie as he passes him by, Carmen’s eyes are fixed on you, trailing down your body before fixating on the shake of your hands. Carmen knows you well, and it’s the clench of your throat, like you're suffocating, like you can’t breath that snaps something in Carmen.

A malevolence Carmen has never felt spills into his gut, the burn of anger spreading against his chest until hes practically shaking with it, he is filled with this heart ache, like his heart is split in two and gushing as he realises his been cutting fucking chives whilst you nearly died.

And something predatory fills Carmen, like he must prove to himself he can protect you, and in one swift move, like muscle memory etched into his bones, Carmen jumps over the front counter and swings his fist in one clean motion, knocking the man across the room.

The man’s body crumbles as he slams into the hardwood floor of the Beef, the immediate groan of twisted pain and pleads leave the man's mouth and Carmen is just so sick of his goddamn voice.

It all went quiet then, the noise of Sydney yelling, of his friends, of the man’s heaving wet coughs, the air conditioner, all white noise. Carmen’s hand reaches for his ankle, dragging him back from his crawling escape.

“Oh, no no no, we’re not escaping now are we?” Carmen grunts, his voice lower than it usually is.

Carmen wraps an arm around his throat, holding him there as he brings down his fist across his face. The wet sound of bones crunching into muscle and skin go on forever, bouncing across the room until the throaty heave of the man is all that is left of him. Carmen cannot stop the swing of his fists, something possesses him and as one of the men in hockey colours tries to grab Carmen arm he throws him back into the stack of barstool's piled near the tables. He is facing his back to you again, and you state, fixated on how his body moves to support him, the contracts and outline of his strong back, his large forearms that break bone with a mere swing.

His face swollen beyond recognition, piss and blood leaking from him, eyes bloodshot and awry.

Carmen picks him up by his collar, the smudge of blood dripping down and staining his vest, whispering into his ear as the man’s eyes widen in harrowed fear.

“Apologise”

“..Whatnhn?” The man mumbles, the feel of his tongue swelling up and going numb, Carmen presses a hand against the man's bruised stomach, pushing against the broken bone of his ribs until the Man wails in agony.

“Apologise to her or I swear to god I’m breaking your fucking legs”

The man spits out an apology, but you’re not looking at him, staring transfixed at Carmen, at the way he’s golden curls fall across his eyebrows, at the way his muscles flex against his white shirt, at the way droplets of blood are splattered across the skin of his jaw. Carmen looks towards you, and something dark takes over his cerulean blues, blowing them out.

“Do you accept? Huh honey?”

You nod, letting an exhale out and Carmen tosses the man to a pile on the floor, reaching for your hand and dragging you to the office, you can hear the scatter of shoes as the men drag their friend out of the beef, and the crew looks towards each other in satisfaction, but also in knowing, in knowing they wouldn't dare open those office doors.

The soft glow of the office is a stark difference to the bright light of the front counter, and you have to blink a couple times for your eyes to adjust, and when you do Carmen’s face is inches from you, leaning you against the office doors, his arm above your head.

“You didn't- didn’t have to” You mumble, your voice caught in your throat for a different reason.

Carmen looks down at you, shaking his head in amusement

“Don’t lie to me, you enjoyed that more than I did” Carmen whispers, leaning down near your ear, pressing his nose against the curve of your neck.

You let out a breathless sigh, and Carmen groans as he smells that familiar vanilla always hinted on your skin Carmen could smell when you passed by you. Now, now, he can practically taste it right on his tongue.

The truth was, you did enjoy it, despite being non confrontational and cringing every time Richie would show you a fight where the crunch of bone on gravel makes you shudder, you were transfixed by Carmen.

By the way he broke the man to a heaving mess with just his fuckinf fists, those same arms that are edging closer and closer to you, how would they feel between your thighs? The thought wraps itself tight in your belly, and you have to squeeze your thighs for friction.

No one had done that to you, no one had done that for you, and in a strange way it felt nice to be protected. To be wanted, and it causes a need to start building deep within you.

Carmen's eyes fall to you, and his eyebrow twitches as a look of guilt washes over his features.

“I should’ve been there, I- fuck, did he do anything? Let me get a look at you” Carmen replies softly, grabbing your wrists to look for any bruises he feared you had.

“I’m fine, just a little, uhm, shaken up you know? Said some pretty horrible things” You reply, scratching at your neck as your mind replays the way he had reduced you to a thing.

Carmen shakes his head, his teeth grinding as he grips his fists, his biceps flexing.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that, deal with people like fucking him, I swear to god if I find him on the street I’m gonna-“

“Gonna what? Finish off the job? There is always going to be guys like him, that isn’t going to change, and it’s something I have to deal with. But what I can’t deal with is if you get yourself thrown into a jail cell because of-of me” You reply, shaking your head and Carmen looks at you like he’s in love.

Gripping a hand to your chin, Carmen raises it so that you catch the burn of his cerulean blues as you can see.

“And That would be an honourable death for me” Carmen mutters, and you can’t take your eyes off him, until you're gripping his blood stain shirt tight against your chest until the suppression groans leaving his mouth are kissed into your neck.

You want him, want to taste him on your tongue, want to feel his weight against it.

“Fuckin come here” Carmen groans out, reaching to wrap his hand around your jaw as he presses his lips against your own. The muffled of your moans escape your lips and Carmen slips his tongue between them.

His pillowy soft lips wrap around your own, his nose bumping into your cheek as he wraps an arm around your back, pushing you against the office doors. It’s all teeth and tongue, the clash of teeth and muffled groans leaving the both of you.

The suppression of both your desires falling between you two until you don’t stop to come up for air.

It’s addicting the way he kisses you, and you have to grip his shoulder as an anchor as he begins to trail his lips down your neck, sucking and nibbling at the skin there before dipping down to your clavicle.

You let out a moan as he blows cold air against the dip of your breasts, and Carmen looks down at you, his eyes heavy as he watches the way you shiver, waiting for him to give you what you want.

Carmen rips open your shirt, his eyes trailing across the curve and dip of your breasts, he mutters something under his breath, something like “beautiful” as his finger trailing the lace before unclipping it and tossing it behind him.

Carmen cups one of your breasts, circling your nipple before wrapping his lips around it and sucking, you arch your back to him, and he follows it until he rests and your hip, squeezing the skin there as his eyes roll back at the taste of you.

“Please..” You groan out, your eyes watching the way Carmen pressing soft circles into your skin, he looks up at you in confusion, the hint of a smile curving at his lips.

“Please what?” Carmen replies, sucking bruises beneath your tits, drawing it out on purpose, having too much fun watching you suffer.

“Nmfha” You mumble incoherently when Carmen flicks his tongue around your nipple, whilst squeezing the other in his cold hands.

“I can’t hear you, what do you want?” Carmen replies with a hint of a moan, he’s having trouble himself, bucking his hips up into you as he watches the way you shake from his lips

“Wanna feel you Carm, wanna taste you” You groan out with a moan, Carmen grunts at your response, his eyes growing dark and heavy, and in one swift move, he hoist you up and swipes the coffee mugs and papers left scattered across his desk before placing you on the edge.

You spread your thighs, making room for him and he steps between them.

“You wanna feel me sweet girl? You want me to take care of you? Please let me take care of you” Carmen pleads, rutting up against you as he tries to suppress the want pressing tight against his jeans.

“Carm” you groan out as Carmen tugs your jeans down leaving you in your lace underwear that Carmen grinds his jaw at, you don’t realise it but Carmen blue apron is discarded somewhere in the room, and as he carries you towards the coach you tug at his white shirt.

He rips it off him in one move, and you drag your fingers across the deep of defined muscle that flexes under your touch.

Carmen moves your thighs so that you're pushed towards the edge of the couch, and he kneels between you, pressing a soft kiss to your knee, before trailing up your thighs. Carmen had been teasing you before but now there is a frantic eagerness in the way he touches you, like if he doesn’t taste you on his tongue he might combust.

Carmen hooks a finger into your underwear,pulling them down until you were bare for him. Carmen’s eyes glisten as he states at you, naked under him and sweating. God the image imprints in his mind and he wishes he can stay here forever.

Carmen presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, and your thighs shake in need, Carmen flicks his eyes up to you, and keeps eye contact, as he licks one long strip across your folds, closing his eyes and he groans at the taste of you. You contort you back at the pleasure the waves through you, eyes rolling back at the pressure of his tongue sucking your clit.

“Fucking- taste so” Carmen mumbles, before dipping his tongue between your folds, dragging it up and down, the sound of your heightened moans ripping through him.

Dipping his tongue in your hole, Carmen pushes a finger between your thighs, presses soft circles around your clit as his tongue works your folds. Your thighs shake around the curls of his head and he pushes a hand down at your stomach to stop you from moving, making you take every wave of pleasure he pulls from you.

“Carm, please, they’re going to hear us” You groan out, and Carmen shakes his head, causing his tongue to drive deeper into you, before looking up at you,

“Let them”

Carmen stretches you out with his tongue, pushing it into you and out until your heaving, his thumb is pressed against your clit, and he pushes a finger into you before sucking onto your bud.

You begin to see flashes of stars, as he thrusts a finger into your hole whilst sucking you, he scissors you open, curving his finger in a way that hits a particular spot that has you raising your hips, trying to pull yourself off of him, the white hot burn of pleasure getting too much.

“There baby? Right there?” Carmen groans out, thrusting his finger to hit that spot over and over

Carmen grips your hips, pushing you down, deeper, harder onto his mouth and fingers, pressing a second digit into you as he curves it to pull that sweet moan from your lips.

Carmen had many names, but his favourite was the broken syllabus of his own between your lips when you fell apart on his tongue.

“S’ close, so close Carmy, please” You babble out, before resigning yourself to the burn of pleasure the feels like fucking nirvana, it’s all around you, Carmen, this pleasure, it’s all you can taste.

“I know baby, I know, I’m going to take care of you okay, sweet girl?” Carmen groans, thrusting his hips into the floor, searching for friction as he watches the way your eyes roll back.

Carmen laps at your core, pushing the digits deeper, curving them upwards until you were screaming, he pushes your face down to look at him, he wants to see your face as you fall apart, and the coil that has begun to wrap itself tight snaps when he nibbles at your over sensitive clit and you see the way his dark eyes watch you, his eyebrows furrowed and your slick coats his chin.

You can’t feel anything but the white hot pleasure that rocks through you, you aren’t in your body, floating away in the pure saccharine pleasure of Carmen’s tongue and he laps at the pleasure dripping between your folds.

You mumble incoherent words, the only thing leaving your lips is Carmen’s name as you babble, spit dripping from your open mouth as you're left in a heap, Carmen leaving you dumb.

Carmen works you through your release, licking and sucking at your sweet slick that he gathers on his tongue. You see the way he thrusts into the carpet, trying to find friction as the scene in front of him becomes too much.

The thought splits something within you, seeing how Carmen got off to getting you off was out of this world, causing the pleasure to start building in your core again.

You drag Carmen up to meet your lips, and then push his tongue between your lips, causing you to taste him on your tongue. Carmen pushes his finger between his lips, sucking on the shine of slick coated there, his eyes heavy as he watches the way you grind your hips against him.

He pushes his digits into your mouth, groaning at the way you suck on them eagerly. You push him to lean his back against the coach, before manoeuvring your hips to straddle him.

You rock your hips against his jeans, feeling the way the indent pushes and bumps against your core, Carmen throws his head back, his curls falling over his forehead and he grabs your hips, pushing you deeper, down down down until he is thrusting up into you.

You grip his shoulders raising your hips before pulling his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion. Carmen forces himself to look down at you, his gaze watching the way you tug at his length, swiping a thumb across the red tip, dragging pre cum down the thick girth of him.

Carmen groans out, gripping your hips tight, and you raise up, lining yourself perfectly before sinking down on him.

Carmen’s groans are beautiful, rumbling from his chests as he squeezes his eyes shut, you fit so perfectly around him, the heat and warmth and slick of you wrapped tight around his cock. His length is thick and girth, and you have to adjust to his size, moaning at the way he fills you up just right.

As you begin to move, Carmen presses a hand, begging for you to wait

“Just, one second, fuck you feel so good I might cum from one thrust”

“Who says this is a one time thing?” You reply with a wicked smile, and Carmen groans loud at that.

You raise your hips, dragging your self on him before sliding down, your grind against him and he heaves in the pleasure of your tightness around him.

It had been so long, and the feeling of you is almost too much.

You struggle to raise your hips high enough, and Carmen wraps his hands tight around your hips before raising you himself, driving himself up into you and thrusting hard.

This new angle allows him to go deeper, and you meet his upward thrusts, groaning out as he fucks you dumb. You look gorgeous above him, the way your tits bounce with every thrust up has him hard all over again.

“Just like that baby girl, keep going, doing so fucking well, my baby” Carmen groans out, and you begin to shake at the combination of his praise the the feeling of his cock driving into you impossibly deep.

You want to make him feel good and you say this to him, causing his eyes to roll back when you squeeze yourself around him, hard, until his thrusts have to drive into you even harder.

The coach freaks loudly from Carmen’s pace, and he slams you down, positioning his cock deep into you, causing you to press half circles into your shoulder, scratching at his biceps and gripping the nape of his hair that causes him to rumble out your moaned name.

You can feel him getting close, his thrust growing sloppy and deep, you tighten around him, and his eyes are in a trance, watching the way you fit around him so perfectly.

Carmen moves to fold himself upright against you, and your eyes roll back to your head as you feel yourself climb up a familiar peak.

Carmen presses a hard kiss against your lips as you groan out, and as he slips a hand into your conjoined bodies, circling your clit you have to shove your fist into your hand to stop from screaming.

The feel of Carmen’s length driving into you and the sound of his ragged moans, mixed with the over stimulation against your clit, you can’t help but fall apart around his cock.

You squeeze yourself tight around Carmen, and he cries out, his thrusts growing slow as he joins you over the cliff, his cock thrusting up into you with spasms. His cheeks are a blush red, his tongue poking out as he follows both of your orgasms.

You fall against his chest, exhausted, pressing your cheek so that it rested against the hard muscle of his pecs. You swallow back a breath, gripping your hand around Carmen’s, as he brings it up to place a soft kiss.

Your thighs are still shaking from stimulation, and Carmen caresses a hand across them, rubbing soft circles and you lay across his chest.

You stay like this for a moment, basking in the bliss of pleasure and sex and the soft curves and dips of your bodies.

After a bit, Carmen has to slip his out cock from your thighs, eyes fixated on the way your ecstasy mixed with his one drips down your thighs.

“Fucking gorgeous” Carmen replies, and you look up at him in surprise

“What? You don’t think I'll find you gorgeous after this?” Carmen smiles down at your flustered state, he brushes back the sweat and tears dripping down your cheeks.

“That was..you are. Well fuck, Carmen, why didn’t this happen sooner?” You reply, he manoeuvres you so that your legs lay across his thighs.

“Yeah, uh, we’ll I’ve got a whole bucket of shit you don’t want dragging you down” Carmen replies scratching his neck, suddenly more shy as he lay his heart bare to you.

“Yeah, we’ll you gave me no choice when you practically murdered that man” You reply, biting back a smile, as you press soft circles around his thumb.

“Should’ve fucking murdered him…”

“What happens now?” Carmen replies, looking at you nervous that this was you just scratching an itch, because he was head over heels in love with you and he would never recover

“God Carmen, you didn’t realise I’m in love with you already?” You reply with a smile, “Practically the entire restaurant does”

Carmen looks up at you in wonder, his eyebrows furrowing as your words hit him hard. You loved him? You loved him. He wants you to repeat it a hundred times, he wants to hear your tongue say those words to him again.

“You are incomparable” Carmen mutters under his breath, before wrapping you tight against his chest, pressing a kiss that feels different now, less crazed and rushed and fueled by heated passion. It was new, it felt like a start of something.

“You think they’re okay out there?” You reply with a start.

“Hell no” Carmen replies, and you can’t help but laugh as you push your head through a shirt Carmen had passed to you.

You and Carm may have just confessed your love to one another, but you still had a goddamn restaurant to run.

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makeyoumine69 · 3 months

Text

Memory Reboot

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: You work at P&P, and one day you come into Bateman's office and witness his breakdown. Your attempts to comfort him only increase his obsession with you, and without realizing it, you push this man to his limits. The outburst that finds you both in a club called the Tunnel will change your lives forever and irrevocably.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, obsessive behavior, desperate-touch-starved Patrick, masturbating, oral sex (reader receiving), aggressive foreplay, dirty talk, body worship, teasing, biting, drug usage, pet names.

WORDS: 3k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent - Memory Reboot

A/N: This is for my dear @iron-flavored-lipgloss! It was such a pleasure for me to write this for you! Enjoy!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓 [EDIT]

gif by @tvandfilm

Patrick Bateman. What kind of a mess was this man? Chaotic, impulsive, pathetic? Or all of the above?

Smirking, you went to his office to deliver some documents you needed him to sign, but when you got there, you noticed that Jean — his lovely blonde assistant — was absent and the door to his office was suspiciously half open. It was strange, to say the least, but you just shrugged your shoulders and stood there for a while when you heard a loud thud coming through the door — the sound almost made you jump in surprise. 'What the hell?' You wondered as you approached the door, turning around to see if Jean was coming, but there was no sign of her. With measured steps you got closer to the hole in the open door and just peeked in out of curiosity, but the scene you saw was not what you expected — Bateman, all flushed and covered in sweat, was storming around his office, his hands desperately fumbling with his tie as if it was choking him.

Your reaction was quick, and you didn't even notice as you opened the door and stepped inside. "Bateman? Are you okay?"

The man stopped shaking the moment he heard your voice and leaned down on his desk. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to get your signature on some of my docs when I heard you crying,” you grinned, watching his face go pale. "What's wrong, Bateman? Did you miss your facial?" The way he balled his hands made you laugh. "But really, did something happen?"

"Yes," Patrick replied, looking at you and running his hand through his disheveled hair. "I mean...no...nothing happened…" You saw his lips tremble a little each time he spoke. "Gimme the docs."

Frowning in confusion, you pulled out a napkin and handed it to him instead, meeting his scornful gaze. "You're sweating…” You placed the white piece of cloth on his desk, only now noticing a small jar that you were sure was full of pills. "Maybe I should ask Jean to bring you some coffee? You look really sick..."

"No!" Bateman suddenly blurted out, pointing his finger at you. "I asked Jean to take the day off..."

"Hey, hey, relax," you raised your hands defensively. "Relax, I was just trying to help."

Slowly, you placed the folder of documents on his wooden desk, which he grabbed almost immediately, and your hands touched for a brief moment, and Bateman didn't flinch, and neither did you.

"Take a seat." Patrick muttered incoherently.

"What?"

"Sit," he repeated irritably. "And wait."

His tumultuous behavior actually frightened you, but you did as he said and sat down in the chair opposite him. ‘My God, he really is mental, Tim was right.’

"What are these pills? Some vitamins?" You tried to keep the conversation alive, not even knowing why, as you watched his long, thin fingers floating across the pages.

Your question made him stop and look up at you. "That's none of your business, (y/n). I asked you to sit and wait, not ask me stupid questions."

‘Why does he look so cute when he's so angry?’ The thought brought a smile to your face, but then you zipped up your mouth theatrically and Bateman's office went silent for a while. And you used it to admire his perfect jawline, even though his brown hair was messy now, it looked so inviting to touch anyway.

"Is that all?" Bateman asked suddenly, arching his eyebrows and interrupting your train of thought.

"Uh, what?"

A prominent line appeared on Patrick's forehead — a testament to his annoyance. "Are you deaf or something?"

"Lemme see them," you pointed at the documents. "I want to make sure you put your cute sign on every page." Your playful tone made the line between Patrick's eyebrows even more noticeable. "I don't want to come back here."

Bateman didn't even try to jab back, his face still pale and sweaty, his eyes nothing but dark voids — oh, how fucking empty they were. Sighing heavily, Patrick raised his gaze when he heard the chair creak as you got up and walked around his desk. The sudden cut in the distance between the two of you was something Patrick didn't seem to be ready for, as his hands nervously gripped the armrests, but you pretended not to notice.

"We all feel down sometimes," you murmured over his ear, literally sensing the tension radiating from his body. "And that's okay." Placing your hand on his broad shoulder, you leaned down to look at the documents, surreptitiously inhaling the scent of his perfume mixed with his sweat. ‘Fuck, what am I doing?’

"I didn't know you had a part-time job as a therapist," he grumbled, examining your palm, wondering if he was going to kill you here and now, or keep you in here forever. "Listen, I have a reservation at Barcadia..."

"Mmm, Barcadia? Really?"

Bateman nodded and finally removed your hand. "Yes, I'm having lunch with Coutrney."

"I wonder what Luis thinks of these lunches with his fiancé." You picked up the folder and stepped back from his armchair. "You don't feel guilty about sleeping with Coutrney behind his back, do you?"

Gritting his perfectly white teeth, the brown-haired man abruptly got up from his desk and stormed toward you, surely intending to yell at you or say something rude, but the moment he stopped directly across from you and your eyes met, Bateman's expression suddenly became lost and confused. "Just stop," he finally managed to mutter. "Stop poking around in my fucking head…" As you noticed his pupils widening, things were no longer funny to you. "Understand?"

‘Well, maybe turning it into a joke is not a bad plan,’ you hummed and nodded. "Sure, Bateman," you sneered a little nervously. "I'm just reading this book Timothy gave me," you slowly turned and walked to the door. "The book about Human Psychology." That was surely a joke, but judging by the serious look Patrick gave you, he didn't seem to get it.

"Tim gave you... a book?" He repeated, frowning in confusion and disbelief.

When you opened the door, you paused for a second, wanting to say something smart at the end. "Oh yeah. Why don't you ask him about it? Maybe he can recommend some books about... human relationships or something." And with that, you smiled in satisfaction at seeing Bateman's face quiver with anger before you left his office, leaving him with a raging tempest in his chest.

Later that day, Patrick couldn't sleep because his mind was so full of different thoughts, but the only thing they had in common was that they were all connected to you. You, you, you. The sound of running water echoed off the marble walls of his lavish bathroom as Bateman stood in the shower, enjoying the way the strong streams of cold water hit his back. Huffing, Patrick desperately scrubbed his skin as if it would help him get rid of the thoughts of you that haunted him the day he first met you — you were so cheeky, so sweet, everyone loved you and wanted to hang out with you. How fucking cute. Patrick groaned as he felt a throb at the base of his hard cock, God, he felt like it was hard all the time and no sex could help him with that because all those people, they weren't you.

"Argh, fuck," he groaned as he finally allowed himself to touch his twitching dick and give it a few strokes.

"F-fuck..." Bateman pumped his length rhythmically, recoiling at the memories of today, the way you put your hand on his shoulder, the warmth of your breath on the back of his neck. And what would it feel like if you had placed your hand on his chest, or run it over his abdomen and then down?

"Uh, a-ahhh," the man moaned louder, shaking uncontrollably from the orgasm building at the base of his spine. "(Y/n), your hands feel so good on me, oh-shit…" Patrick had to lean against the shower wall as his legs buckled from the intense waves of ecstasy as he cummed with your name on his trembling lips, the water still running down his sculpted body, washing his cum off, but he was still so hard.

"Reading books on psychology," Bateman chuckled, tilting his head. "What an idiot." His nervous giggle bounced across the shower, but soon the laughter turned to a low wail. "Pathetic…”

Time flowed like sand through your fingers, and you couldn't even remember how many days had passed since your visit to Bateman's office, but since then something had changed between the two of you, but you both couldn't understand what exactly had changed, or maybe you didn't want to try to understand. To be fair, it was so fucking annoying that when you found out that Tim, David, Craig and Patrick were going to the Tunnel, you saw it as your chance to dot the T's, no matter how the evening would end.

When you arrived at the club, it was so crowded that it took you a while to find the group of yuppies sitting on the plush couches next to the dance floor, jamming to the music and drinking their cocktails.

As you approached, Craig was the first to spot you. "Woah, woah, look who it is!" His cheeky remark caused everyone to look at you, including Bateman, whose teeth were visibly clenched around his cigar at that moment.

"Hey, guys! Enjoying the music I see?" You smiled, fixing your hair briefly from the sudden rush of panic. ‘Damn it, stay calm! Why am I so nervous?’

Timothy winked at you and raised his glass. "Did you come alone or..." he stopped abruptly when he noticed someone behind your back. "Hey, is that Paul Allen?"

‘Shit, shit, shit. That was so much easier in my head than it is in reality.’ You chewed on your cheek, and while the men were guessing whether they really saw Paul Allen or not, a sudden idea came to your mind, but you hated it before you even started to bring it to life. "Do you have a gram?" You asked without thinking, hoping they would say no.

"I do," Bateman's voice came out of nowhere and you almost screamed in your head, but you had to keep your composure. "But you will owe me." As he said this, you came closer to where he was sitting with a playful smile on your face and took a seat next to him. "Wait, we are not going to do coke here."

"Hey, why not?" David chuckled and took out his business card holder. "What's wrong with it?

"Oh God, look at that cheeky bastard," Craig pressed a palm to his face. "Van Patten decided to be a bad boy today."

The men laughed and high-fived each other before Bateman whispered in your ear, making you almost jump. "Follow me." Those two simple words made you obey like you were under a spell.

As the two of you made your way to the bathroom where people in the Tunnel usually did coke, your heart pounded to the heavy beat of the music, or even faster. Patrick went first, his elegant silhouette like a shining star in the midnight sky — so eye-catching and mesmerizing that it wasn't surprising that a lot of people turned around to look at him, but you didn't care as soon you would be alone with him. ‘Just you and me, Bateman.’

The bathroom was surprisingly empty today. The last time you were there, you had to wait almost half an hour to get into the free stall, but now luck seemed to be on your side. As you stepped into one, Patrick pulled out his business card holder and rolled the $100 bill; you did the same, watching as Bateman made lines of coke with his platinum AmEx card.

"I have to say, you look much better." You commented briefly.

The man was about to lean over to snort the white powder, but your words made him freeze. "Huh," he chuckled abruptly and brushed away a stray lock of hair. "I was just reading some books about... relationships," Patrick grimaced, drawing out the last word with a cocky grin. "It changed my mind." Before you could say anything, Patrick was snorting the coke, holding the rolled-up bill to his nostril while holding another down with his thumb.

"Very funny," you mumbled, tapping the rolled note against the inside of your palm. "Where was your wit when I walked into your office a week ago?"

Bateman coughed quietly and threw his head back for a moment to clean his nose. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Rolling your eyes, you moved closer to his business card holder to inhale the white line of powder that had been left there, your mood was already off, and at some point you even began to regret coming to Tunnel tonight. Though it wasn't your first time doing coke, you felt so dizzy as the drug began to intoxicate your system that you almost fell to the floor if you hadn't bumped into Bateman's chest, leaving a white stain on the lapel of his Valentino suit.

"Hey! What the fuck!" Patrick blurted out, ready to push you off, but the way you grabbed his shoulders stirred something strange inside him, something he was fighting all the time. "Have you ever done coke?"

You coughed several times, blinked nervously, and only then did you let him go. "Sorry..." you gasped and leaned against the wall of the stall behind your back. "It's been a while."

"You stained my jacket."

"God! I'm sorry, okay?"

"No," Bateman replied, brushing off. "Not okay."

"What do you mean?" You asked confusedly, batting your eyelashes and breathing heavily.

Patrick dropped his head for a second before looking at you again, your faces dangerously close. "I'm not okay."

You licked your lips nervously. "Why?"

Instead of saying anything, the man pulled you against his massive frame, giving you no time to react as his hot mouth covered yours; it was difficult to call it a kiss, it was more like the act of claiming — his strong arms trapping you between the wall and his muscular body while yours hovered motionlessly like whips. When Bateman released you, he tugged at your lower lip and licked it with a wet, obscene sound. "Because...because of this."

Panting, you stood in shock for a moment before nodding and touching your wet lips. "Yes," you put both hands on his chest, exploring it slowly but boldly, causing him to close his eyes for a second. "I don't think I'm okay either." After whispering it in his ear, you slid your tongue down his bare neck, right over the mole, and when you heard him grunting, you lowered your hand to his belt, playing teasingly with the buckle.

"Lower," Bateman husked, and when you didn't listen, he grabbed your hand and lowered it himself — the outline of his fully erected cock eliciting a muffled moan to break out of your cramped throat. "Ahhh-fuck."

"God, you're so needy," you murmured against his neck, busy undoing his belt. "So touchy."

It only took a few seconds for you to undo his pants and let his taut dick pop out of his underwear. ‘Mmhhm, his cock is so perfect, just as I expected,’ you smiled to yourself, and in the next moment you were stroking his throbbing length, smearing his slick pre-cum around his swollen tip without any shame or fear of getting caught.

"(Y/n)," Patrick hissed as he pressed you against the wall with his weight, his hands sneaking down your back to grope your ass. "Be quiet," the man ordered when he heard your soft moans. "Keep quiet and undo this." Bateman pointed to your bottom and just the thought of what he was about to do to you almost made you cum.

"Why?" You gave him a foxy grin and tightened your grip on his dick, forcing Patrick to hold his breath.

"Just...just do what I say..."

"Okay, honey."

"Don't call me that!" He uttered and squeezed your ass painfully, your bodies grinding against each other, making you hot and sweaty.

"Patrick..." You attempted to kiss him, but he turned away.

In one swift motion, the man reached your neck and aggressively nipped at the throbbing artery. "Shut up! Just shut up and undo this fucking..."

You didn't let him finish his tantrum as you caught his lips with yours, increasing the tempo of the jacking, and you could feel he was so damn close. But since he was so insistent, you undid the lower part of your garment, and everything that happened next was like one of your recent dreams. Bateman, flushed and panting, crouched down, his cock slipping out of your grasp, but the next second his fierce mouth found its way between your legs as he began to suck on your sensitive flesh with sheer greed and passion, not forgetting to pump his dick and growl softly against your skin.

"Ohh, Pat-Patrick," you gasped, tugging at his brown hair, dishevelling it, but neither of you cared. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop..."

"Mmm-fuck, you taste so sweet," Patrick pressed his face closer to your core, his free hand nailing you to the wall to hold you in place. "You're shaking like a fucking whore."

Chucking, you yanked at his hair a little harder. "And you're devouring me like a starved man, are you starved, Bateman? How long have you been... so fucking s-starved?" You hiccupped as he redoubled his efforts, lapping at your crotch and jerking himself off. "F-fuck, I'm... I'm gonna..."

The loud footsteps made you both stop in your tracks, and when you heard people coming into the bathroom, you stalled completely, only to quickly fix your clothes and then pretend nothing had happened as you left the stall. Later, as you were washing your hands, Patrick stood behind you and you met his eyes in the mirror. "Are you leaving or..." You asked briefly as he handed you your twisted bill.

"Yeah," Bateman straightened his jacket and wiped his mouth with a paper towel before opening the door. "You better forget about it. Believe me."

‘And now I feel like I need a memory reboot.’

Chapter 2 is here! 💗✌

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader #gn reader

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thetriumphantpanda · 8 months

Text

where you want your gift, girl? | Joel Miller

Summary | It’s your birthday and Joel, knowing it’s not your favourite celebration, is keen to show you that it‘s not always going to be a bad day, not if he can help it.

Warnings | birthdays, allusions to strained parental relationships, food & alcohol consumption, smoking of (1) cigarette, no/pre-outbreak AU, gift giving, explicit smut, rough sex, choking/breath play, brief spit play, oral sex (F Receiving), safe unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, cumplay, literally just filth tbh, no use of y/n.

Word Count | 4.2K

Authors Note | Honestly? It’s my birthday today and all I want is for Joel Miller to fucking rail me to celebrate - we can’t have everything we want I suppose, so we’ll have to deal with writing our fantasies instead! Happy Birthday to me - Enjoy!

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

You’d never really enjoyed birthdays. Other people’s, sure. The opportunity to treat your friends and make other people happy was something you’d always loved, but when it was you as the centre of attention, you almost hated it. The way people would train their eyes on you as you opened their gifts, the anxiety that you felt not knowing what it would be and whether you’d have to pretend it was the best thing in the world when you could think of a million things you needed above what they’d given you. It always made you feel ungrateful. Birthdays aren’t as exciting as you get older either, just another reminder of how far behind the rest of your friends you are, how little you seemed to have accomplished next to them in the same amount of years.

It was no different this year, not really. Your mother had phoned you before you’d gone to work, asked if you received the card she’d sent in the post that had the customary $100 stuffed into it, before chiding you for not doing as you said you would last time you spoke and find a new job, something more challenging, related to that degree you’d spent all her money on. You sigh and hang up the phone before she can say anything else, a mumbled sorry that you were running late but thank you for the card.

The only saving grace for your birthday this year was the fact it was a Friday, so you didn’t have to worry about drinking too much beer and having to go to work the next morning with a hangover. To their credit, your work colleagues had been quite nice to you - they’d pooled together to get you a gift card for you to spend on whatever you’d like, and Sandra from accounts had made you a birthday cake – red velvet because it was your favourite. Once everyone had eaten a slice, she put a Tupperware on your desk with two more generous slices in it, winking at you before walking away.

“For your handsome boyfriend.” She’d said, giggling as she walked away.

There was another saving grace for your birthday, you supposed. Joel Miller. Who had burst into your life in a whirlwind eight months ago when his beautiful daughter had spilled her hot chocolate all over your crisp new shirt in her hurry to get to the table so she could drink it. He’d been the most apologetic you ever thought you’d seen a man, helping you to wipe the worst of it off with napkins whilst Sarah profusely apologised next to you. You’d put a comforting hand on her shoulder, told her it was okay, and that you understood entirely, you’d have been as excited as her to drink hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. Joel had insisted on paying for your dry cleaning, something you’re pretty sure only ever happened in films, and when you’d phoned him to tell him it really had been a minimal amount, he’d asked to take you to dinner instead, and the rest really was history.

He’s phoning you now, his name popping up on the front screen of your phone, you smile as you answer it.

“Hello, handsome.” You greet.

“Good afternoon,” His southern drawl hits your ears, “Happy birthday, my darlin’ girl.”

God, he makes you so happy, “Thank you, cowboy.”

“You want me to pick you up and take you for dinner?” He asks, “Tommy is gonna look after Sarah tonight, so I’m all yours, whatever you wanna do.”

You think for a second, sure, dinner out is a nice idea, but it’s been a long week, and you think what you want most is to be at home with him, “You think you could grill me a steak and let me drink beer on your couch instead?” You ask, slightly embarrassed that this is all you want for your birthday.

“If that’s what you want, darlin’, then I’ll grill you the best steak of your life,” He chuckles, and then you can hear him cover the phone and speak to Sarah, who must be just back from school, “Sarah wants to speak to you real quick.”

He passes the phone and it’s Sarah’s sweet voice that greets you next, “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you, honey,” You smile, “You looking forward to some time with your Uncle Tommy?”

“He’s gonna take me to the movies,” You can hear the grin on her face, “I already heard dad telling him not to feed me too much candy, but he never listens,” You chuckle, “I got you a present,” She speaks again, “I gave it to dad so you can open it later.”

“Ahhh you sweet girl,” You coo, “I’m sure I’ll love it,” You reassure, “And I’ll be there tomorrow so I can thank you in person.”

“Alright,” She replies, “Dad wants the phone back, but have a nice birthday with him!”

You say goodbye to her, and then Joel tells you he’ll be waiting for you when you finish to bring you home. It’s only two hours until the end of the day, but you struggle to focus on the emails you’ve got to answer – you get through as few as is acceptable before the end of the day, logging out at exactly 5:30pm, box of cake clutched in your hand, handbag slung over your shoulder as you head out.

Joel is leaning against the side of his truck, arms crossed over his chest so his biceps are bulging in the flannel he’s wearing, he’s also got one of his ankles crossed over the over. He looks so casual but as devastatingly handsome as he always is. He slips an arm around your waist when you’re close enough, pushing his palm into your lower back to press your body to his, dipping down to press his lips to yours. He’s gentle with it, opening his mouth against yours so he can slip his tongue into your mouth, letting his tongue meld with your own, kissing you slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Get a room, you two!” It’s Sandra from accounts.

Joel pulls away just enough to laugh against your lips, pressing his to yours once more before pulling away properly, opening the car door for you to get in, pressing a light swat of his hand to your ass as you hoist yourself up into the truck.

Once he’s slipped into the driver's side and settled one of his hands on your upper thigh, he starts the drive from the city out to his house. It’s a quiet drive, Joel’s humming along to whatever is playing on the radio, you’re occupied with looking out the window. This is what you love about Joel, that he’ll sit in silence, won’t feel the need to make you talk, it makes you feel comfortable, knowing that he’s there when you need him, but he’s not going to force you to speak when you don’t want to.

He’s pulled into the drive in no time, picking up the grocery bags from the backseat. You try and peak inside to see what he’s bought; you’re hoping he’s got the ingredients to make those mashed potatoes you like, and mushrooms that he’ll cook on the grill too.

When he opens the door, you’re almost overwhelmed by the sight that greets you. There are gold and black balloons littering the floor, with one bigger helium balloon, weighted down so it doesn’t float along the ceiling, set in the corner with big ‘happy birthday’ lettering written on it. There’s a birthday banner pinned to the wall, and a selection of wrapped gifts on the coffee table. You have a sneaking suspicion that most of this is Sarah’s doing.

You giggle a little as Joel presses himself against your back, kissing at your neck, “How much of this was Sarah?” You ask, following him through to the kitchen.

“She blew up all those balloons before she went to bed last night, and she did all the wrapping, but the banner and the big balloon, that was all me, baby.”

You press your lips to his cheek, smiling as he starts unloading the grocery bags. Two ribeye steaks, and just like you wanted, mushrooms to grill, and potatoes to mash. He leaves you in charge of watching the potatoes whilst he grills the rest of the food outside. Whilst it’s resting, he mashes the potatoes with enough butter to clog your arteries, but when you sit at the table, and those potatoes are in your mouth, you can’t find it in you to care - it’s your birthday after all.

“Everythin’ alright, baby?” He asks, cutting into his steak.

“It’s perfect,” You grin, spearing a grilled mushroom onto your fork, “Better than sitting in a stuffy restaurant anyway.”

You finish your food in relative silence. Joel insists on doing the dishes even if he did most of the cooking, before he’s leading you back to the living room.

Joel sits you down on the couch, treading as carefully as he can through the trail of balloons to get you a fresh beer. He kneels down on the floor between you and the coffee table, taking a glug of his beer, before reaching across the table for the first gift, setting it in your lap.

“That one is from Sarah,” He explains, “She made me promise you would open it first.”

“Rules are rules,” You shrug with a chuckle, carefully tearing open the wrapping paper.

When you pull the paper from the material it was wrapped in you feel overwhelmed. It’s the exact same blouse that Sarah had tipped her hot chocolate over, just in black instead of white. The shirt had been a write off from the start, the chocolate leaving a stain that even the dry cleaner couldn’t get out.

“She saved her pocket money for months to buy this,” He murmurs, pinching the silky fabric between his fingers, “Said if it was what brought us together, she wanted you to be able to wear it.”

You can feel tears prickling at your eyes as you fold the material up carefully, “She’s such a special girl, Joel.” You whisper, watching as Joel leans back over the table to pick up another gift.

“This one’s from Tommy.” He murmurs, handing you the largest box on the table.

You rip the paper off and open the box, revealing an actual cowboy hat. You laugh, because Tommy has always said in order to properly fit in, you’d need a cowboy hat. Joel reaches into the box, pulling the brown Stetson out of its box, placing it on your head.

“Suits you, cowgirl,” He growls, leaning under the brim of the hat to kiss you, nibbling your bottom lip as he pulls away, “Keep it on.” He demands when you go to take it off.

“He didn’t need to get me a gift,” You mutter as Joel moves the two final gifts towards you, “And it’s a proper Stetson, this must have cost a fortune.”

“Not that it matters, because everyone in this household thinks the world of you, but he thrifted it, mainly because you’ve rubbed off on him and he thinks getting a pair of Levi’s for half price because someone doesn’t want them anymore is the best thing since sliced bread.”

You tilt the hat on your head a little so you can see under the brim, as he hands you an envelope this time, “These are from me.”

You open the envelope and pull out a postcard with a from New Orleans. You turn the card over, Joel’s handwriting scrawled on the back.

“Pack a bag baby, and let me take you away.”

“Are you for real?!” You exclaim, “You’re going to take me to New Orleans?!”

“Course I am, darlin’ girl,” He grins, “I know you’ve always wanted to go, and we’ve never been away together.”

“Are you even real?” You ask, wiping your tears away, because you’re overwhelmed, no-one has ever been so thoughtful.

“Last time I checked I was,” He chuckles, taking the postcard from your hands, replacing it with the last gift, a small box, “Go on, last one.”

You take it from his hand, tearing the paper off it to reveal a small box. You open it, and sat inside is a silver necklace, a silver hoop, entwined with a smaller hoop. You’d recognise this anywhere. You’d spotted it in the window of the jewellery shop downtown. You’d spend so long looking at it in the window before deciding you couldn’t afford it, yet here it is, in your hands.

“Joel,” You breathe, running your fingers over the delicate silver, “This is too much.”

He presses a single finger to your lips to shut you up, holding his hand out for the box, taking the necklace out as he pushes himself up onto the couch, putting the delicate chain across your neck, “Do you like it?” He asks from behind you, mouth right at your ear, breath hot on your skin.

You turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling your hat fall off your head as he returns the embrace, “I love it Joel,” You murmur into the skin of his neck, “I love you.”

“I love you too, darlin’ girl.”

You spend the rest of the evening curled up on the couch together. You eat the slices of cake that Sandra had sent you home with, drink more beer, Joel even sits with his guitar outside, playing some of your favourite songs whilst you smoke a cigarette. When the sun has fully set and you’ve let out a particularly loud yawn, Joel closes up the house, takes hold of your hand, and takes you to bed.

You’re led against the sheets, getting yourself comfortable, when Joel comes back from the bathroom, leaning against the door with his thumb resting on his belt. He’s lookin at you with those deep, coffee-coloured orbs as you turn onto your side, propping your head up on your palm to look at him.

“How do you want it, baby?” He smirks, taking slow steps towards the bed.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, because that is a very good question. Do you want him to be soft and slow like he had been that first time? So concerned he was going to hurt you with his size and strength that he refused to go any harder or faster than was strictly necessary? Or the time he made love to you after you’d looked after Sarah when he had to work late. When he’d walked into his house and found you painting her nails for her, watching a film that he’d never had sat through, his heart bursting with so much love that he had to push it all into you, whispering promises into your ear as he did so. No, you think, that’s not what you want right now.

“I want you to fuck me, cowboy,” You rasp, “Hard.”

He’s stood at the foot of the bed now, eyes dark with lust, “Well, what the birthday girl wants,” He murmurs softly, wide, warm palm clasping around your ankle, “The birthday girl gets.”

He tugs at your ankle, pulling you down the bed in one swoop, your legs dangling over the edge as his fingers work the button of your work trousers loose. You lift your hips up so he can drag them, and your underwear off your body, before he tugs you into a sitting position to work your blouse over your head. Your palms cup his face as you kiss him, your lips giving attention to his plush bottom lip as his hands reach behind you and work the clasp of your bra undone, dragging that off your body so you’re finally bared naked to him.

He pulls back, trails his eyes over your naked body, before placing his hand on your chest, right between your breasts, pushing you back down onto the bed. He trails his hands down the expanse of your sides, coming to the meat of your thighs as he settles his face between them. Normally this is where he’d tease you, use that mouth to trail soft kisses up and down the inside of your thighs, stopping to nip at the soft skin every once in a while, but he surprises you tonight.

Joel uses the flat of his tongue to lick a single stripe up the seam of your pussy. Then, he takes his hands, puts them on the backs of your thighs to push your legs back towards you, spreading them open further, baring the entirety of your spread, aching cunt to his face, before that tongue of his is diving into you, licking the slick that has been slowly gathering there from you, groaning at your taste. He drags his tongue up to your clit, using the tip of it to lightly flick at your clit, which has a quiet whimper leaving your lips as you tangle your fingers in his soft curls to keep his head anchored right where it is.

You’ve never really known a man quite as enthusiastic about eating your pussy as Joel Miller. The way he groans into your cunt as he laps at you, the way his fingers dig bruises into your skin as he holds your legs open for him, it all adds to the way he has your teetering on the edge of your first orgasm of the night in minutes. You’re bucking your hips into his face, chasing that burst of pleasure you know is so close to you.

You can hear the obscene sounds from him, the way he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolls his tongue over it before letting it go with a pop, or the way he literally slurps the slick from your entrance. It’s when he slips two of his fingers inside your slick cunt that you’re really done for – fingers stretching you open, a poor substitute for what’s to come, but it’s good none-the-less.

All of a sudden, that fiery burst of pleasure is setting your skin alight. Your body is arching off the bed, pushing your cunt further into Joel’s face as he sucks your clit through your orgasm. You can feel yourself clenching around his fingers as you let out as high-pitched shriek of his name as your body wracks with pleasurable aftershocks. You lie there, warm and pliant as Joel stands once he’s worked you through your orgasm. He takes off his shirt, and you marvel at that body, the one you get to enjoy, broad and strong for his work, but soft around the middle, just like you love. He’s looking you directly in the eye as he undoes the button on his jeans, belt from earlier seemingly lost in the bathroom before. You’re smirking as he drags his jeans and boxers down his legs, stepping out of them, stood before you in all his God damn glory.

He is, quite possibly, the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. Especially when he’s got his cock gripped in his fist, pumping himself as you spread your legs for him, pushing yourself up the bed so he can settle between your thighs.

You can feel the throbbing length of him slipping between your soaked folds as he finds a position, he’s comfortable with. You’re the one that reaches down between you and lines his cock up with your aching core, but it’s all Joel when he thrusts himself inside you, right to the hilt, in one go. He’s leaning forward, head rested in the crook of your neck, your name hissed out into your ear as he adjusts to the tight clench of your cunt. Your nails are already digging into the meat of his biceps when he drags himself out of you, before slamming back in.

He revels in the way his rough thrusts make your tits bounce, dipping his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth, gently nipping at the puckered bud with his teeth before soothing it with the pad of his tongue. He laves the same attention to the other, never once letting up the pace of his hips.

“This what you wanted, darlin’ girl?” He chokes out, looking down at you writhing in pleasure beneath him.

“More.” You gasp, hand reaching to grab at his wrist which is planted by the side of your head, propping him up.

He puts most of his weight on his other hand, letting you drag his other palm to the delicate column of your throat, where the sheer size of his hand covers it in its entirety. He rests it there for a moment, continuing to pound his cock into your pussy, but then he’s adding pressure to the side of your throat, giving you that delicious dizzy feeling to your brain, before he’s releasing the pressure. You’re grinning up at him, moaning his name as his hips continue to slam into your own.

“Like that, don’t ya?” He asks, “God you look so fuckin’ good with my hand around your throat, pretty girl.”

“Always fuck me so good, Joel,” You cry out when he shifts his position slightly, cock brushing that sweet spot inside you, “Do it again.”

So he does, he squeezes his fingers around your throat again, your mouth dropping open as a crazed giggle leaves your mouth. You wish you could step outside your body right now and watch, watch what the two of you look like – his hand around your throat, the way he’s pounding into you so hard you’re sure you’ll be sore in the morning.

You’re both breathing heavily as he trails the hand that was around your throat to grip at your jaw. He squishes your cheeks together, pursing your lips as his mouth claims your own, growling into you as his tongue licks at yours. He’s so fucking overwhelming right now, thick cock splitting you in two, strong body laid across your own, mouth on yours, and it’s still not enough. You want to peel his skin off and climb inside him, let him consume you whole.

Joel pulls back, hand still on your jaw.

“You my pretty girl, huh?” He asks, and you can only nod, his hand stopping you from talking, “Belong to me, right?”

His hand goes back down to grip your throat, gently though, with no pressure, so you can talk to him now.

“All yours Joel,” You purr at him, “Only ever gonna be yours.”

“Open your mouth,” He demands, using his hand to gently shake you, so you do, “Stick your tongue out.”

You do just that, staring straight into his eyes as he leans down, ever so slightly, and spits into your mouth. It’s warm, wet and utterly filthy, and you think it’s the entire reason that you can feel your slick dripping down onto his sheets now. Joel doesn’t even give you the time to swallow, chasing the saliva he’s just put into your mouth with his tongue, giving you the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever received.

“Fuck,” He spits out, pulling back from your mouth, “Ain’t gonna last much longer, darlin’ girl,” He confesses, those rough thrusts slowing ever so slightly, “Put your hand on your clit for me, let’s do this one together.”

Your hand slinks between your bodies, seeking out that sensitive bud, still reeling from the orgasm he pulled from you, it doesn’t take much work from your fingers to have you teetering on the edge, but you want to do this together, you have to hold on for him.

“Where d’ya want it?” Joel chokes out as your pussy flutters around him.

“Inside,” Comes your begging plea to him, “Come inside me, Joel.”

Your work your fingers across your clit a few more times before you’re coming around his cock, the nails of your free hand digging half-moon shapes into the meat of his shoulder. He manages three, maybe four more thrusts before he’s stilling inside of you, grunting out your name as the white-hot spurt of his spend fills your aching cunt. He fills you up so perfectly, holding himself there for a moment before he lets out a slightly pained sound, pulling himself out of your pussy.

He sits back on his knees, watching the white trickle of him cum seep from your spent hole. He takes one of his fingers, scooping his cum on it before bringing it to your lips, where you suck it into your mouth, running your tongue over it to catch every bit of the taste of him. He falls forward, forehead pressed to your own, kissing your lips softly, before he moves to lie on his side of the bed.

You push yourself up into a sitting position, leaning over to kiss him softly, mumbling that you’ll be back in a minute as you pad to the bathroom to clean up. When you come back to his room, he’s already under the covers, your side pushed back and waiting for you, so you clamber in, seeking out his torso under the covers so you can wrap your arm around him. He pulls you flush to his body, slick and warm from sweat, but you don’t care.

His arm is draped across your shoulder, his fingers tracing slow and soft across your skin, as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Happy birthday, darlin’ girl.” He whispers to you as he turns out the light.

“Best birthday ever,” You mumble softly against his chest as you let your heavy eyes closed, “All because of you, cowboy.”

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the-writing-pigeon · 3 months

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Singing In the Shower

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, showering, nudity, Bucky sneaking into the shower, physical touch, pet names (doll), suggestive/slightly dirty talk (if there is anything else let me know!)

A/N: This is something that I came up with, and since I am revamping some of my old stories, there will be some changes. It’s short but sweet, so I hope you like it:) Again, If you recognize some of these stories, I ask that you please do not interact as if I am the same person. I am trying to stay anonymous.

Ever since you were a little girl, you have always loved to sing. You would make a tune or rhythm out of anything. Whistle, drum, hum and most prominently, singing. Your family loved the concerts you would put on, your little plastic microphone in hand. All of those memories come flooding in when you start to hum your favorite childhood song: A teenager in love.

“One day I feel so happy, The next I feel so sad.”

You continued the song and smiled when you sang the lyrics that followed.

“Why must I be a teenager in love?”

You tried to be as quiet as possible with knowledge that Bucky was sleeping in the room right across the hall. He had a very long mission today, and waking up to a grumpy Bucky was not on your to-do list today.

Your lips pulled up into a smile once again as you sang the chorus. You couldn’t help being a hopeless romantic, and you were so lucky to have found Bucky. The time you met, was a silly incident on a trip to Romania.

You thought about the first time the two of you met. It was a silly incident while you were on a trip to Romania;

You had tripped over your own feet and spilled coffee all over the ground. When you went to get napkins, you turned around and a man had come to help you with the mess.

You smiled brightly and said, “Oh you don’t have to help me. It’s my own clumsy self coming out.”

The man shook his head and replied, “It’s alright miss. It’s just some coffee.”

Let’s just say that you haven’t ordered coffee in public since then. You shook off the funny memory as you rinsed your (length, color, and texture) hair. While humming to yourself, you didn’t hear the bathroom door creak open, your boyfriend entering the steam-filled room.

The shower curtain barely shuffled open, and you could feel the warm presence of your loving, hunky boyfriend behind you. He had taken his metal arm off before hopping in, making sure the technology didn’t get ruined. His lips pressed soft kisses along your shoulder and up your neck, his right hand resting on your soft tummy. With his skin pressed against yours, everything felt right.

“I didn’t know you could sing doll.” His voice is low and groggy, most likely just from waking up.

The butterflies in your belly fluttered, and a smile grew on your face. “Only in the shower.” You say, leaning back in his warm embrace. He gives your forehead a gentle kiss, and the two of you sway as you continue to hum your favorite song.

“You know, I bought this album on vinyl when it first came out, it was my mothers favorite.” Your brows raised, almost forgetting that the man you love was born much earlier than you were.

“Wow… it must’ve been a hit if it is still popular today, hm?” You turn, looking up at Bucky, his blue eyes crinkling with joy as he smiles.

“It was,” He pauses and cups your cheek, his thumb grazing over the soft and textured skin of your face. “But I think it sounds better when you sing it.” The burly man leans down, peppering your face with kisses until he finally presses a soft kiss to your lips. Even though you have known him for a while, and you live with him, you still get nervous around Bucky. And every kiss feels like the first; Magical.

His gentle hand helps you scrub your body, and he helps you condition your hair, turning off the faucet once he finished. He reaches out of the shower and grabs your soft towel, wrapping it around your body with his arm just like a big hug.

“Do you promise to sing more often, doll?” He asks, smirking as adds, “Maybe on my cock next time?”

With a gasp and a light slap to his chest, you giggle and press a sloppy kiss to his lips.

“In your dreams!” You say, laughing with Bucky as you both exit the shower, feeling clean and happy.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #pigeon posting*#marvel cinematic universe #marvel #avengers #mcu #Pigeons stories

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evansbby · 2 years

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𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Stepdad!Ari Levinson x bratty!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, stepcest, noncon, dubcon, daddy kink, forced babying, use of petnames, oral - female receiving, face riding, fingering, anal fingering, spanking, coercion, blackmail, dd/lg, dirty talk, dumbification.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your stepdad Ari has a strange obsession with you, but will he listen when you try to confront him about it?

𝐀/𝐍: Wow, it’s me with another surprise Ari fic! I wrote this quickly in the past few hours, and I hope you enjoy. But please read the warnings, Ari is super depraved and twisted in this! Based on this ask and drabble!

“That’s such a pretty dress, honey.” Your stepdad, Ari, compliments you, dabbing the corner of his mouth with the lacy white napkin before folding it up and placing it back on the side of his plate. “It’s nice to see you making such an effort for dinnertime, in a pretty dress instead of those jeans and sweatpants you’re always wearing.”

You scowl but say nothing, your fork pushing your food around your plate while your mother simpers in her seat next to you. She reaches out to pat Ari’s tanned arm, “Oh, Ari. Ever the traditional man, aren’t you? Always preferring girls in dresses.” She laughs, although you find nothing funny about any of this, “Although I must agree with your father, honey – it’s nice to see you make an effort, and you look so lovely in pink.”

“He’s not my father.” You mumble, trying to maintain concentration on the lumpy mashed potatoes on your plate. You’re completely aware that you sound like a bratty child sulking at the dinner table – but you can’t help it.

Ari raises his hand to silence your mother before she launches into a lecture about how you shouldn’t be rude about your stepfather and how Ari may as well be your father with how well he takes care of you.

“Well, it’s a very pretty dress nevertheless. And you’re a very pretty girl.” Ari says, pink tongue running over his lips in a motion so quick that you’re not sure your mother sees it – but you definitely have. “But please stop playing with your food, baby.”

You gape at him in disbelief before turning to your mother – but she’s just looking at Ari in total, blind adoration. Are you the only one who sees how weird he’s being? From the way he looks at you to the overly babying tone with which he speaks to you? And the pet-names? The sugary sweet pet-names that give you a toothache every time they float past his perfect, plump lips?

Wait, what?

“Why don’t you stop treating me like a child?” You shoot back, looking your stepdad right in his clear blue eyes. He blinks, thick lashes fanning his cheekbones while your mother lets out a melodramatic gasp. “I’m a fully grown woman, Ari. I’m in college. Stop treating me like I’m some sort of baby. If you want a baby then just have one.”

There’s an awkward silence followed by a sniff of disgust from your mother. “How dare you speak to your father like that? How dare you? After everything he’s done for you? Letting us move into his house, paying your college fees, buying you whatever you want–”

“I didn’t ask for any of that!” You stand up, knowing you have to take yourself out of the situation before it gets any more out of hand than it already has. You didn’t mean to cause a scene, but you’re just so sick of Ari treating you like you’re a baby. You’re also sick of your mother being so blindly devoted to him as if he’s some sort of God. When really, he’s just… Ari.

Ari, with the big, buff arms and the washboard abs and the long, wavy hair that shines and the bright blue eyes and the lopsided smirk of a smile, and – wait, what?

“You need to learn to be thankful, young lady.” Your mother hisses, “Or else you won’t be welcome to stay in this house during your summer breaks. And we all know how much you love all the perks that come with this place, like the pool, the sauna, the tennis courts – need I go on?”

Sometimes you really hate your mother.

Throughout all this, Ari sits quietly with his arms folded across his chest and an unperturbed look on his face. As if he’s drinking in the conflict between you and your mother, the quirk of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips…

You huff, turning on your heel and hating how the baby pink dress floats and flounces around you. You hate everything about it – it’s not Halloween and you’re not a fairy-princess. You can’t believe Ari had made you wear it. Shuddering, you think back to earlier, when you’d come out of the shower and seen the pink velvet box on your bed, along with a note:

My precious baby girl, wear this dress for me tonight. If you don’t, I’ll tell your mother that you shoplifted from Hollister last weekend. Love, your daddy.

And his audacity to act all surprised when you’d showed up downstairs in the pink monstrosity of a dress. Well, you’d had enough now. Enough of wearing the stupid, uncomfortable dress, enough of Ari, enough of your melodramatic mother, enough of this dinner, enough of just about everything.

You run up the stairs and slam the door to your bedroom without a second thought.

***

Your mother had married Ari last fall while you were still at college. They’d eloped, and you’d come home to a new stepfather. You didn’t care much at first – your mother dated around a lot and you were used to all her different boyfriends.

But Ari was… different. He was younger than your mother, but still almost double your age. He looked like he belonged on some sort of playgirl catalogue – all beefy and tanned and muscular, with an attractive smattering of dark hair all over his chest (you know because he liked roaming around the house shirtless more often than not).

At first, he seemed charming enough, with a nice smile and sparkling eyes. But there was something off in the way he looked at you, how his eyes would linger a bit too long, how he’d use pet names with you that he never used with your mother. How he’d coddle you and baby you and do weird things like wipe your mouth with his handkerchief after you’d eaten ice cream and there’d been some residue around your lips.

And now, the whole dress thing. Admittedly – it’s very weird. Now, you lie on your bed clad in your Led Zeppelin tee and panties, twirling his note in your fingers. You wonder if your mother would finally see that there’s something off about Ari if you showed her the note, or if she’d just turn a blind eye because she thinks her new husband is absolutely perfect? You sigh.

The knock on your door has you rolling your eyes.

“Honey? It’s me.” Ari. You stare at the ceiling and breathe out slowly.

“Go away.”

Your stepdad does the complete opposite, and you curse him for having a master key to every room when you hear the click of your door unlocking before he steps inside, shutting the door behind him.

“I said go away, Ari. Why is it that you can’t respect my privacy?”

“You can’t respect me in my own house, so why should I respect your privacy, honey?” Ari chuckles softly, his chest rumbling with quiet amusement. He’s wearing his light blue button-down shirt, but he’s got the top three buttons undone, giving you a peak of that virile chest hair that you often can’t stop looking at, and –

“Look, Ari, I’m clearly not dressed appropriately,” You gesture down to your tee which barely covers your panties, “So maybe you should get out.”

The older man tsk-tsks; “Honey, how many times have I told you not to call me Ari? It’s disrespectful. I’d much prefer it if you called me Dad.” He smirks, settling down on the side of your bed – alarmingly close to you, “Or daddy. I think I prefer daddy more.”

“I told you, if you want to be a dad so badly, then just have your own baby.” You scoff in disdain, tugging your tee down so it covers more of your legs and cursing when the material’s too short to make any significant difference – why had you chosen to wear such a tiny tee tonight? Oh yes – you hadn’t expected your stepfather to invade your privacy.

“Have my own baby, huh?” Your stepfather looks at you thoughtfully, licking his lips as his hungry gaze drinks you in, “You know, I might just take you up on that offer one day.”

You’re too busy trying to get your dumb shirt to hide more of your legs to really acknowledge the weight of his words, a scowl on your lips and eyes narrowed.

“Why do you insist on wearing such ugly things?” Ari frowns, reaching out to finger the fraying hem of your tattered tee, “Led Zeppelin? That’s not something little girls like you listen to.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You have no idea what I do or don’t listen to.” (Although he’s right – you don’t much care for Led Zeppelin, you’d bought the shirt because it was cheap and had a cool logo, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

“I could buy you such pretty things to sleep in,” Ari murmurs as he continues to stroke the material of your shirt, his fingertips so dangerously close to your skin – and you don’t know why you don’t pull away. “Honey, all you need to do is make me a list of everything you want, and you know I’d buy it all for you and more. Pretty pink silks and lace – that’s what you should be sleeping in. Not this ugly, tattered shit.”

Quickly, before you know what’s happening, he lifts your shirt up slightly, a smirk quickly adorning his handsome features, “I approve of your little girl panties, though. They’re quite cute.”

You bat his hands away, heat rising to your face and goosebumps covering your arms and legs as you inch away from him, “This is so fucking inappropriate, Ari. You need to leave.”

Your stepfather doesn’t budge, instead turning his attention to your room; your dresser which is overflowing with clothes, your vanity table scattered with makeup, the various posters on your wall. He sighs; “You know, I was so excited when I heard you were gonna be staying with us over summer break. I wanted to decorate your room just how a little girl like you would like it – all pink and white and cute.”

Wrinkling your nose, you cross your arms over your chest, “That sounds fucking gross.”

He continues as if he hasn’t heard you: “But your mother said you’d prefer muted colours, beige and white and whatnot. So that’s what we went for.” His hand somehow finds itself resting on your bare thigh, calloused fingers tracing shapes over your sensitive skin, “But we could make the guestroom into your little girl bedroom. What do you think? I’d keep it locked at all times, so your mommy would never have to know.”

The alarm bells in your head are loud and clear, telling you to run, run, run for the hills and never look back because Ari is acting insane right now. You slowly shift away from him, despite the fact that his touch on your leg spreads an inexplicable warmth throughout your body.

“Honey, come here.” Ari’s head snaps up suddenly. Before, he’d been staring at his own fingers as they skimmed over your thigh but now his bright blue eyes are boring into yours and he pats his own leg, “Come sit on daddy’s lap.”

You clear your throat, “Um. No thanks. I’m good here.” You wonder if you can bolt into the bathroom and slip on a pair of leggings just to escape his burning gaze which seems glued to your bare legs.

“Honey. Come here. Now.” There’s an edge to his voice that you don’t want to mess with. You’ve seen him and your mother fight, you’ve seen him angry and it’s not a pretty sight. “Or else I’ll tell your mother about you shoplifting.”

You clear your throat, trying to stand your ground, “Don’t try to blackmail me, Ari. I’ll tell her all about your creepy note you left for me. She’d hate to find out that her husband’s a perv, wouldn’t she?”

The laugh that leaves Ari’s lips is soft yet maniacal, calculated; his eyes squeezing shut for a second before fluttering open and zeroing in on you, “Oh honey. You don’t wanna play that game with me.”

“Oh yeah? What if I do? What if I’m sick of you always hovering over me, acting like some creep? Maybe it’s time mom knew what you really are.”

“My sweet baby girl – you think she’d believe you? You think she’d ruin her perfect suburban fantasy because her bratty daughter decided to act out and tell some lies? You think she’d ever believe anything that comes out of your mouth? Believe anything you say over my word, the word of her husband? Think again, baby girl.”

You bite your lip at the painful truth – your mother’s whole world revolves around Ari.

“You’re a piece of shit.” You mutter in disbelief.

“Get. In. My. Lap.”

He doesn’t give you any further chance to argue, strong hands gripping on to you tightly and pulling you on top of him, till you’re sat on his knee with a scowl of pure hate on your face and arms crossed protectively over your chest, body rigid in defiance.

“That’s my girl,” Ari sighs, kissing the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a while and you can feel his hot breath against your scalp and for some reason it makes you shiver, “Now, doesn’t that feel good? To just stop fighting and listen to your daddy?”

He rocks you for a while, sighing in contentment every now and again, his lips brushing against your forehead as his fingers playing with your hair, twining it and twisting it, smoothing it down and tucking it behind your ear, “My little baby girl, doesn’t it feel nice when daddy holds you? You’re all relaxed now, aren’t you? Can’t tell you how badly I’ve wanted to hold you like this, feel your tiny little body on top of me. God, honey, daddy loves you so much.”

“Y-You’re crazy,” Your voice is high with panic, hands twitching to pinch him or prod him in the eye and make a run for it – but you know he’d overpower you. Fleetingly, you wonder if you should scream, scream for the neighbours or scream for your mother.

“Don’t even think about it.” Ari seems to read your mind, “Be a good girl for me tonight, baby. I need you to be good tonight. Daddy’s had a rough day at work, and I deserve to have my baby girl take care of me just like how I take care of you.”

“M-Mom can take care of you,” you try, wondering why the hell he’s in your room instead of being a normal person and fucking his own wife.

Ari shakes his head, pressing another kiss to your forehead, “No, honey. I need you. Your mommy doesn’t do it for me. Every time I fuck her, I push her head into the pillow and I imagine it to be you. You’re my sweet little baby, you’re the one who deserves to be in my bed, who deserves to be underneath me. And soon, you will be.”

“Ari, you don’t have to do this. I’m not… I don’t… I wouldn’t do that to mom, Ari, please–”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” He snaps suddenly, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forcing you to look up at him, your scared eyes looking straight into his crazed ones, “Call me daddy. In fact, say: daddy, please stop.”

“D-Daddy, please stop.” You whimper, and Ari throws his head back and groans.

“Fuck, baby. It gets me so hard when you beg and act like you don’t want it. Say it again, exactly like that.” He slaps your bare thigh, making you yelp in pain, “I said, say it!”

“Please stop, daddy! I don’t want this! An’ I’m not acting, I genuinely don’t want this, Ari– I mean daddy, please just stop!”

Through your begging and pleading, you feel the unmistakable hardness of his crotch underneath you, his boner so undeniably hard and heavy, poking into your ass from below and it makes you whimper yet at the same time you feel these alien sparks running up and down your legs. Fuck, fuck, fuck – ignore it!

His experienced fingers find themselves between your legs, his pointer finger slipping up and down the fabric of your panties which is inexplicably soaked – leaving you feeling horrified and more than a little bit scared. “Now honey, why don’t you take off this shirt that little girls like you have no business wearing, and put on that pretty dress daddy bought for you?”

Less than two minutes later, you find yourself standing in front of your stepdad, between his legs while he sits on your bed and looks up at you with maniacal and lust filled navy eyes. You have the poufy pink dress back on, the light pink tulle flouncing around your waist and hips, the hem resting a few inches above your knees.

“My little princess.” Ari coos, “I wish you could see how adorable you look. Now, hand daddy your little panties.”

You swallow, breathing hard, nails digging into your palms as you take a deep breath. Something compels you not to argue any further, reaching down to step out of your panties, hands shaking as you hand them to him. He all but snatches them from you, bringing them up to his nose immediately and taking an obscene sniff.

“God, love how sweet your little baby pussy smells,” He says it almost dreamily, “I’ll add this to my collection, sweetheart.”

His… collection? You barely have time to ponder over what he means by that, instead focusing in shock and awe when he brings your panties to his mouth, sucking on them like they’re some kind of popsicle, closing his eyes in pleasure as he practically makes out with your panties and your juices that were stuck to them that now stick to his tongue and lips.

“Delicious,” Ari smiles, stuffing your panties into his pocket before eying you up and down again, “Now twirl for daddy, baby. I want to see you in your little princess dress properly.”

You frown – what is even happening right now? You’d look fucking stupid, twirling around for him in this little girl dress, a pawn in his sick, twisted game.

“Honey,” Ari says warningly, and that’s all it takes for you to begin twirling, “Slower, baby. Show off your goods, let daddy see properly.” You feel like you’re an object at an auction, Ari’s own personal auction where only he has claim to you.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty. Love the way your little ass peaks out from under the tulle,” He reaches out to give your ass cheek a quick squeeze, and you feel your heart lurch along with your pussy. “And daddy’s so proud of you for putting your dress on all by yourself. I know putting clothes on can be hard, honey. That’s why daddy’s here to help you. But you did it all by yourself, and for that – you deserve a reward.”

You blanche at how much he’s babying you, wrinkling your nose, “You’ve got to be kidding m–” He shoots you a warning look that has you clamp your mouth shut almost instantly.

Your stepfather pulls you into his lap once more, stroking you everywhere; your arms, your legs, his lips raining kisses all over your face – as if you’re his personal doll that he’s dressed up to match his sick, specific tastes, and now he’s got you all to himself to do with what he pleases.

“Now, sweetie, you know what this is?” Knocked out of your reverie, your body jolts into an explosion of sparks when you feel his hand once again between your legs, his thick fingers brushing against the hood of your clit.

“Y-Yes.”

He frowns, “Say: No, daddy, I’m just a baby.”

What kind of a sick roleplay was this?! You’d been with guys in college who were kinky, but this was a whole different level. So why do you feel your pussy clench when he orders you to say those words? You swallow hard for the umpteenth time.

“N-No, daddy. I don’t know what that is. I’m just a baby.”

Ari licks his lips in pure, unadulterated lust, “Oh honey, this is your little princess button. It’s special because only daddy is allowed to touch it. No one else – not even yourself.”

You practically convulse off his lap when he lifts the hood, finger ghosting against your clit and sending sparks up and down your body, “Your princess button is what makes babies like you cum – that’s when you give daddy your sweet cream, got it? That’s just one of the lessons daddy’s gonna teach you tonight.”

It’s crazy how you find yourself nodding, your body playing along with his sick game.

You wait with baited breath as Ari continues with his twisted “lesson,” his finger meandering down your slit and gathering your juices which have now begun to drip down onto the denim of his jeans below you. He reaches your hole and stops, swirling his finger around your entrance, making you shiver in anticipation.

“Now this, sweet girl, this is your cunt.” Ari says bluntly, swirling and gathering your wetness, spreading it around your pussy lips and making you sigh and grip the collar of his shirt tightly, “But you’re just a baby, you’re not allowed to use that word. So you’ll just call it your special princess part. Now tell me, what’s this called?” He suddenly jerks a finger inside of you, and it’s so thick that your body almost rejects it, pussy squelching noisily as he curls his finger upwards, trying to stuff it inside of your slippery walls.

“AH, daddy! It’s my special princess part!” You cry, and now you’re practically throbbing down there, willing to partake in his depraved shenanigans if it means it’ll bring you relief. You’re well and truly gone, fucked, beyond saving. And the fact that your mother sleeps in the next room whilst you’re here with her husband’s finger up your cunt has you squeezing around his digit even harder.

“Fuck, baby, I love how tight your little baby cunt is, how you’re milking my finger. You’re so tiny, aren’t you? So tight with just one of my fingers barely inside of you. You’ll milk my fucking cock; I know you will. God, baby, daddy has to taste you.”

And that’s how you find yourself hovering on top of him, your stepdad lying on your bed with his strong hands gripping your hips, guiding you up to his face, your pretty pink dress flouncing around you.

“Hold your dress up and sit on daddy’s face, sweetie.” Ari orders you, a look of maniacal anticipation on his face.

“I’ve never… I haven’t done this before, daddy.” You say softly – and it’s true. Whilst some of your college boys have attempted to go down on you, they’ve either grown impatient or you’ve just shoved them off because whatever they did just didn’t feel good. You’ve never sat on someone’s face, though, but Ari looks more determined than ever when he hears you say that.

“Oh honey, those college boys haven’t been treating you right at all, have they?” He coos, putting on that sickeningly sweet voice that you’ve come to associate with him doing something depraved to you, “Bet they couldn’t even make you cum. And I bet their cocks weren’t as big as mine, but that’s okay sweet girl, you’ll find out all about that soon enough.”

And then he jerks you downwards, making you sink your pussy down on his waiting face. You jolt forwards, gasping when you feel your soft, wet folds against his face and grabbing onto his hair for leverage.

“Oh, oh my gosh…” You can’t help but whimper, the sensation feeling so different, and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

“Now honey, I want you to use daddy’s face. Ride me, rub your little baby princess cunt all over daddy’s face and make yourself cum, okay baby? Daddy skipped dessert tonight and wants to taste your sweet cream.”

If you’re the princess he keeps saying you are, then Ari’s definitely the villain of your story. The dragon who traps the princess around a pit of fire, revelling in your helplessness, each cry that comes out of your mouth pure music to his ears. There’s no winning in this situation, but your body’s already chosen which path it wants to take…

Slowly, you begin to rock your hips. Your movements are timid, hesitant, confused, until Ari grips your hips and grinds you down hard, his tongue so hard and pointed as he swirls it around and around in circles around your soft wetness, making you pant like a bitch in heat, a wanton whore who’s been craving her master all day…

“Ah, daddy! Y-Your beard!” It’s thick and prickly, causing delicious friction as you rut against it – reminding you how it’s a man underneath you, a man twice your age.

“Mm, I know daddy’s beard hurts a bit, sweet girl,” Ari’s voice is muffled, the vibrations delicious against your quivering pussy, “But it’s a good kind of hurt, one that’ll make your baby pussy all excited. Now don’t hold back, baby. Ride your daddy’s face.”

You’re so riled up that you don’t need to be told twice, letting out another moan as you begin to rock your hips again, faster this time when you feel the sparks begin to build inside of you. You’re so embarrassingly wet, your juices pouring out of your fuckholes, coating his face and making it glisten as you rub your pussy all over him.

“Ah, ah, ah!” You cry out, your gasps high-pitched as his nose nudges against your clit, and you almost fall forward in delighted surprise when Ari manoeuvres you slightly, enveloping your engorged button between his lips and giving it a harsh suck, practically making out with it as you continue to rock your hips, lewd squelching sounds bouncing across the walls of the room.

“That’s right, baby, use your daddy’s face. Let mommy know exactly what you’re doing, rubbing your baby cunt all over her husband’s face,” Ari whispers filthily, one of his hands still holding on to your hips to steady you, the other one drawing back and then swatting you hard across your ass. The slap catches you off-guard, sending thrills down your body as you cry out way too loudly.

“Oh, fuck, daddy!”

“That’s right baby, it’s your daddy that’s making you feel this good. Remember that.” Ari says cockily, slapping your ass once more before slipping his hand up, fingers entering your pussy. And this time, he practically forces two of his digits in, and you cry out at the sheer size – how will you ever fit his dick inside of you? When two of his fingers cause you so much pain?

Roughly, he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, wet slapping sounds filling the room as he continues to suck at your clit. And it’s when you feel his teeth bare against your bundle of nerves, it’s when he bites down lightly that your legs twitch and flail and you scream bloody murder, yelling out his name, yelling out daddy, throwing your head back and moaning with no care in the world that your mother’s in the next room because you’re squirting all over his face.

“FUCK! Daddy, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Ari’s quick to keep your hips pinned down on his face, not letting you move even when it gets too much, your pussy twitching and sensitive, legs boneless like jelly as you almost sag around him.

“No, baby girl. One orgasm’s not enough. Give daddy another one. And you better work for it. Keep riding my fucking face, baby. My little baby with your cute little pink princess dress. Fuck, you’re making your step-daddy so hard right now, you have no idea.”

Grinding and rubbing against his stubbled face, newfound thrill overtakes your body at the sight of your stepdad below you, his brown waves fisted in your hands, his face glistening with your juices as his tongue licks around his lips before returning to your pussy. And you’re enamoured by just how much of your cream is on his face, and how much of your slick is still pouring out of your pussy – it’s like you’re leaking and it’s all for him.

“D-Daddy, my pussy won’t stop leaking,” You lament, surprising yourself with how helpless you sound, but you can’t help it.

“That’s because your little princess parts want daddy so badly,” Your daddy explains to you, “And I’m nice enough to let you cum again, so fucking ride me.”

And again, Ari grinds your pussy over his face, his tongue flattening up to lick a long trail up and down your slit before swirling around and around, sucking, biting, nipping, your slick leaking on his face and dripping down on the mattress below. God, you’ve never been this wet ever before…

“Fuck, my little princess, you’re so fucking hot.” Ari moans, giving your ass another hard smack, and then another, admiring how the flesh jiggles softly and how you moan in pain at his increasingly hard smacks, “I bet this baby ass is a virgin, huh?” Another slap, “Answer me, you dumb fucking baby.”

“Y-Yes! Had nothin’ up there, daddy! Nothing ever!” You cry, squealing in pleasure when he sucks on your clit again at your words – he’s clearly happy with your response.

But what you don’t expect is your stepfather to immediately remove his two soaking digits from your pussy, spreading your ass cheeks and rubbing the ring of your tight asshole, spreading your slick before pushing past the barrier of muscle, and you let out a howl of pain.

“Daddy, n-no! Don’t want anything up there, please!” You cry, wriggling but all that does is cause delicious friction, his beard burning your pussy lips and the insides of your thighs, his nose gliding over your clit and making you moan once more, and you’re so obscenely wet that you think he might drown in your arousal.

“Little babies like you don’t get a say in what goes up their baby ass.” Ari says sweetly, stroking your hip with one hand as he shoves his finger up your puckered hole with the other, and despite your protests, you can’t help but grind down on him. Because the delicious feeling of fullness is too addicting, especially when it’s something as taboo as your asshole being stuffed with your stepdad’s thick fingers.

Slowly, he begins to fuck your asshole with his pointer finger, and you resume riding his face, a death grip on his hair as you use him to chase your own pleasure.

“What a tight little ass my baby’s got,” Ari coos, voice muffled yet you still clench at his words, so close to your high because you get off on the depravity of it all, “Can’t wait to fill all your holes, baby. You love my finger up your ass but you’d love my cock even more. And the feel of daddy’s hot cum in your asshole? I’ll plug you up with a toy and make you keep it in there all day, princess. God, daddy hasn’t even begun to show you everything I’m gonna do to you, you just wait.”

Somehow, his twisted promises are just riling you up more, and now you can’t remember how, earlier tonight, you were denying his advances. It seems your stepdad is the only one who can scratch the itch inside of you, this itch that thrives off of being humiliated, being babied, being owned like how he’s owning you right now.

“Oh, oh, fuck, daddy! Feel so full, so full!” You cry, rocking harder against him, faster as you fuck yourself on his tongue and the wonderful friction it’s creating against your baby pussy. And Ari tries to add another finger to your puckered hole, but you’re too small, way too small for his huge digits.

“Oh, you’re full alright.” Ari remarks with a chuckle, “Looks like daddy’s stuffed you to the brim with just one finger. That’s alright, sweet baby. We have all the time in the world to stretch you out. I’m sure your mommy won’t mind.”

And with that, he clamps down hard on your clit, sucking on it like his life depends on it, making out with it, biting it, moving you forwards and backwards and sideways all over his face, making a slippery mess that has you moaning and crying screaming his name in abandon as you squirt all over his face for the second time.

“Daddy – AH! Fuck, daddy!” You clutch on to his hair, the collar of his shirt, his bicep, anything you can get your hands on as you ride out your high on his face 0 which is so indecently wet with your juices. It’s the most intense orgasm of your life, shooting stars behind your eyes that leave your entire body shaking with pleasure, red hot waves of pleasure that only Ari has ever made you feel.

You whimper when he finally lets you go, sagging down onto the mattress like a limp doll who’s puppeteer is finally done with her, the overwhelming nature of your orgasm making tears well in your eyes as Ari reaches out to stroke your cheek.

“What a good girl. Thank you for giving me your sweet cream. You taste just like a dream.”

“You’re welcome, daddy.” You say – and you don’t need to be prompted this time.

Ari pulls you close, pressing his lips to yours, and you can taste yourself on him as he makes out with you languidly, taking charge like only a man like him could, “My sweet, precious little baby,” He coos, “That was only lesson number one. We have a long way to go, and by the end of it, I want you to take your mommy’s place on my bed next to me. What do you say, sweet baby, you ready to be my little baby wife?”

THE END.

Let me know what you guys think! Feedback and reblogs are forever appreciated!!!

#ari levinson #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x reader #chris evans #chris evans x reader #dark chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #daddy chris evans #daddy ari levinson

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megamindsecretlair · 19 days

Text

If I Took You Home, Part 1

Pairing: Dom!Kevin Atwater x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Food porn. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) teasing, fingering (female receiving), cum play, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. D/s dynamics.

Summary: Your friends were all in relationships so that meant it was time to bug you about your singledom. They were constantly setting you up on dates that made you back out. However, you were sick of saying no and your friend's boyfriend really played up his coworker and friend. It was all true. Your blind date leaves you wanting more.

Word Count: 6,245k

AO3 Link

A/N: Hello, my loves. I am missing Kevin so bad! It's been 3 WEEKS without a new episode. I'm dying over here. Reblog and comment to save a writer's life. And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @amethyst09 @ciaqui @harmshake @nworbaij @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @twocentuar @westside-rot @yaachtynoboat711 @abeautifulmindexposed @blowmymbackout @bigsisbria @babybratzmaraj @darqchilddaydreamz

You knew better than to trust your damn friends. You sat at a nice restaurant in a casual berry colored dress, sipping wine and looking like a pathetic loser eating dinner alone. You didn’t have a book to try and pretend like this was planned. Like you decided to take yourself on a date.

You glanced at your phone. To be fair, you were a bit early. Only because you were so nervous about a blind date to begin with. Why had you said yes?

You weren’t sure now. Maybe it was your friends and their constant hounding. They were all hooked up with their respective partners so now you were getting the pitying stares. The stressed smiles after they got done gushing about their own dates and partners. As if being single was some type of disease they wanted to cure.

You took another sip of the sweet wine and thought about canceling. Blind dates were a joke. They probably set you up with some ogre of a man who picked his teeth at the table or scratched his belly after he was finished.

You looked over the menu to give yourself something to do, so you weren’t just staring at your phone.

Your mind ran through all kinds of possibilities for this random man you decided to go out with. Maybe he was bald. Maybe he was shorter than you. You didn't mind dating someone short, but they usually had complexes that you weren’t capable of dealing with. Maybe he was a secret chauvinist…

“Excuse me?” You turned your head to the words and got a face full of stomach. You tilted your head up and saw a gorgeous man with hickory smoked skin, dark and luscious beard, and kinked hair. He smiled wide showing a row of beautiful teeth and you were momentarily struck stupid.

“Friend of Claire’s right?” He asked. “I hope.” He chuckled and licked his lips. Your eyes caught the movement, the slow glide of his tongue across the swell of his lips.

You swallowed a giant ball of stupid thoughts, nodding because you didn’t trust your voice. You were going to have to marry Claire for this one. Absolutely marry her. Her boyfriend, Jay, was going to have to get in line.

The man stuck his hand out and you looked at it briefly, before looking back into his deep brown eyes. “Kevin Atwater,” he said.

You sputtered and mumbled out your name, finally taking his hand and shaking it. His hand eclipsed yours, so huge with thick fingers. His nails were clean too. He smiled and finally took the seat opposite you.

You rearranged the napkin on your nap to give you a reason to collect yourself. You were not the type to go all googly eyed for a man. At least not where they could see. When you looked up, you caught the eye of the woman next to you who had been throwing her own pitying looks your way.

You smirked and lifted an eyebrow, communicating without words. She swiftly turned her gaze to her own date, fixing her already neat bun.

Kevin cleared his throat, pulling the seat closer to the table. His legs were so long however, that he still had a lot of room from the table to his olive green button up. It was open at the collar, giving you a peak at his chest and a black tank underneath. A hint of a chain He wore dark jeans and dark green boots to match and a row of bracelets on his wrists. He had already taken off his black puffer jacket when you weren’t looking.

“You find the restaurant okay?” You asked.

“Yes, ma’am. The parking though?” He asked and shook his head. You giggled, feeling giddy over the ma’am comment rather than annoyed. He said it like it was a casual, Southern thing and not in a teasing way.

“I know. But I couldn’t believe you’d never been to this place. I thought you grew up in Chicago?” You asked.

“I did. ‘Bout some blocks that way,” he said, pointing South. “But life got busy. Maybe I just needed the right sign to go.”

You smiled. It was a cheesy joke, but why was it working? Perhaps the wine finally got to you, settling low in your belly. Maybe the sudden ache in your pussy was from the alcohol and not the way he looked framed by the wall of lights behind him. Rather than sink out of focus, his face seemed only framed by it. Kissed by it. Like the light settled into his skin with the softest sigh.

“I’m sorry if I started without you,” you said, grabbing your wine and taking a sip. You’d need your wits about you if you were going to remain cool and calm in his presence. After the disastrous first impression, you needed some points in your favor.

“That’s fine. I probably would have to. What’s that you’re drinking?” He asked. He picked up the menu but didn’t look at it as you told him the vintage. He nodded and gave you an approving grin.

“Alright, I’ve never had it. Is it good?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Not my favorite but it’ll do,” you said. He grinned and caught the attention of a passing waiter. He ordered some type of bourbon, Old Emmer, and then the conversation turned towards the food.

“Since I’ve never been here, what’s good?” He asked.

The Italian restaurant was famous for a lot of things, but none more so than the lasagna. Every time you had it, you swore up and down that someone in the kitchen was from the Old Country. You could taste the sunshine, hearth, and powdered hands as it worked the dough on the noodles. The tomatoes from the vine in the sauce. That hint of spice from the earth itself. The soft wool of the goat that provided the cheese. And the meat. You resisted the urge to pinch your fingers and kiss your mouth every time you thought of it.

“I’d say…the lasagna. I can’t resist it when I’m here,” you said. You hoped you sounded cool about it. If given half a chance, your enthusiasm would erupt all over the table and he’d be halfway down the street before you could call him back.

“Lasagna it is, then,” he said. The waiter arrived with his drink and Kevin took a sip. He tilted his whole body back, pulling up his arm so that you had a good look at his throat. The bob of his Adam’s apple as he sipped it down.

You uncrossed and then re-crossed your legs, your thighs burning in the most unholy way. It settled low in your belly, echoing throughout your core. Nasty thoughts filled your brain. Thoughts you did not need to think about this man that was only sipping a drink.

He nodded his approval and the waiter asked if you were ready to order. Kevin motioned for you to go first, so you ordered the lasagna. Kevin ordered the same thing and then the waiter took your menus.

There was no more armor against Kevin and his attractive smile. “So, what made you agree to a blind date?” You asked. As you tried to steer your thoughts to safer territory, you couldn’t imagine a man as fine as him still remaining single.

“My job doesn’t exactly lend itself to a standard schedule. Makes it hard to meet some folks,” he said. He settled back in his seat and twisted his glass in his hand. The glass looked tiny in comparison.

You nodded. Claire already told you that Kevin was a cop, like Jay. You asked if it was tough dating a cop. She confessed that it was hard as hell because of the worry. Over the fact that he might not always walk back through the door. And that’s with someone white. Kevin is Black and that brought an extra layer of worry.

You asked if it was worth it. A stupid grin spread across her face. She told you that it was. She’d do it over and over again. Plus the handcuffs helped.

“Especially someone that doesn’t automatically see you as a person,” you said.

Kevin nodded. “I’ve had some tussles but I’m still here,” he said. Your eyes darted to his body, taking in his thick muscles and corded forearms. You had no doubt that it’d have to be something huge to strike down Kevin Atwater.

“I’m glad you are. Okay, but seriously. Help me understand. How do you explain, all of that,” you said and waved to his whole body. “And no long term girlfriend.”

Kevn laughed. “I promise, it’s the job and just not vibing with anyone. There was nothing wrong with them, it just wasn’t there. But now you have to tell me something. How do you explain all of that,” he said and waved to your body. “And no one’s snatched you up yet.”

He smiled and rolled your eyes, refusing to laugh. “I find that some guys these days have to be still carrying around cavemen genes or something. It’s really bad out there,” you said and shivered.

Truth was, it was incredibly hard to find someone that fit your brand of nasty. You loved sex. Had an insatiable appetite, practically thinking of it 24/7. But you also craved submission. You did so much every day, constantly finding the energy to breathe from second to second. Your work kept you down and your family was demanding. You had to keep up with friends and schedules and made hundreds of tiny decisions every day.

Mentally calculating what was too dressy, too girly, too boyish, too much, not enough. The last place you wanted to have control of was the bedroom. The last thing you wanted to do was order around a man in the sheets.

Sometimes you just craved masculinity. You couldn’t define it but you’d know it when you see it. The way a man just went around being a man. Flexing muscles, taking up space, manspreading, protecting. What turned you on more was when a man was acting in defense of someone else.

And it was hard to achieve that with men these days. Because they’d all reverted to primitive, banging on the drums type of seduction. One drink earned them the right to put their hands on your thighs. Buying you food was a ticket to second base. You couldn’t submit if you didn’t trust the fucker in charge of you.

Glancing at Kevin though, masculinity poured off of him in waves. You wondered what it would be like to submit to him. To hand over your orgasms and watch him treat them with love and care.

Your pussy throbbed in response like she loved that idea.

“Don’t tell me it’s that bad,” he said and cringed. You gave him a funny look. He shook his head and cursed.

“Well on behalf of my gender, I’m very sorry. Then again, it brought us together,” he said. He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes at you. You giggled.

“Okay, stop. You know what you’re doing!” You said.

“What am I doing?” He asked. His voice grew a little rougher and you gasped.

“Looking at me like that,” you said. Your voice grew softer.

“How am I looking at you?” He asked.

You were saved from answering by the waiter bringing you lasagna. One huge slice was placed in front of you, a sloppy square of dripping sauce and steam. Some of the edges were burned, the tomato sauce dark with spices. It smelled divine.

Kevin grinned and looked down at his meal. He gave you a wink, like he was congratulating you on a good choice. But you waited until after the garlic bread was placed between you. He picked up his fork and cut a piece of the lasagna.

Strings of cheese went with it and he rolled it around his fork. He brought it to his mouth and his juicy lips sucked up wayward sauce. You were treated to another sight of Kevin’s tongue on his lips.

He chewed and then moaned, a low and deep sound erupting from his chest. Your pussy throbbed with the unexpected praise. You felt good to treat him to something you enjoyed. You got the same feeling when you introduced a new artist or song to someone. But nothing as visceral as pleasing Kevin.

You finally bit into your own lasagna and closed your eyes, a moan escaping you involuntarily. You even did a little jig, as the food brought so many flavors to your mouth. Something savory with a tiny hint of sweetness. The cheese and noodles complementing each other so well. The meat soaked with the sauce that made you imagine ripened red tomatoes. Plump with flavor.

You remembered where you were, on a whole ass date with a literal offering from the gods. You opened your eyes and looked at Kevin who sat still with adoration all over his face. Like he witnessed the most magnificent phenomenon and couldn’t make sense of it.

You gave him a sheepish grin but he gave you a shimmy back. He turned it into a Black person acknowledging that the food was good. No words necessary. Just brown eyes meeting brown eyes.

Conversation turned towards family as he talked about having to help his brother and sister after his dad went to prison. You nodded along, knowing that dance all too well. He glowed with pride as he talked about his siblings and how it was hard being their father and their brother.

He admitted they fell into some drama some years ago, but they were all heading towards healing. He was sad for the childhood he lost, but he would do it all over again. You wondered what it would be like to be so positive like him and Claire. The way they saw the bullshit day in and day out and got completely opposite experiences than you.

You tried not to be a storm cloud, shitting all over what came your way. You couldn’t help it. Negativity was safer. A constant hammer against your soft heart to try and harden you up. But you still had that need to empathize with everything and everyone. And so in the end, it hurt just the same.

You told him about your family and friends and how you came to know Claire. You asked about him and Jay working together and he said that they got off to a rocky start, but ended up being brothers on the other side of it.

You loved listening to him speak. The deep, whispery tone of his that instantly put you at peace and your core set to burning. You longed to hear that whispered in your ear while he did something disgusting to you later.

Yeah, you’d already decided. You were taking this man home with you and you were going to hand him the reins. You hoped that he delivered. That his smooth and sexy interior matched the drop dead gorgeous exterior.

You were needy with want. Wanting him. It was an insane thought. You’d only just met him. But his vibe put out someone trustworthy and you always trusted your instincts.

Dinner flew by with more fascinating stories from Kevin. You delved into past relationships and laughed at each of his horror stories. You told some of your own and was mortified how you could be so blind at the time.

You had a second glass of wine and he had more bourbon as you shared a dessert. The gelato was sweet and icy. You scooped some on your spoon and made a show of putting it in your mouth. Nothing outrageous, just something to tease him with.

He lowered his eyes to your mouth and you felt desired. You felt settled in your body. It was a heady feeling and you knew that it had all to do with Kevin. Once he paid the check, absolutely refusing you when you told him that you should pay since you suggested the restaurant.

You walked outside into frosty Chicago. No matter the time of year, it was a bitter place to be. The wind howled around your shins. You brought your coat closer around your neck. Kevin walked you to your car.

You didn’t have to walk so close together. He didn’t have to reach an arm out to keep your balance on low heeled shoes. Yet, your shoulders constantly bumped into his and his arm casually went around your shoulders.

You talked and laughed, dreading every inch of sidewalk you covered. You didn’t want to leave him but you didn’t know how to transition from this date to taking off his pants. When you got to the car on the driver’s side, Kevin smiled at you. You smiled back.

He stepped forward, pushing into you. You walked backwards until your back hit the side of the car. He pinched your chin, bringing your face closer to his. His eyes never left yours while he tilted his head.

“Tell me I’m not the only one feeling this,” he said. His lips brushed against yours and you sighed. You wanted to whimper.

“I feel it too,” you whispered.

“Come home with me then. Follow me home,” he said.

“I’ll follow you,” you promised. You’d follow him anywhere. This was the most radical thing you’d ever done in your life. Going home with a man after one date? The scandal of it all would turn your friends’ heads. Not to mention, they’d tease the fuck out of you about your blind date going well.

He smiled against your lips, lightly pressing in. He tasted like the bourbon he drank with a hint of pasta. It was a delicious spicy and savory mix that made you lean in for another one. He gave you a brief kiss and then pulled back.

“I’ll see you there,” he said. He opened your car door behind you, smiling at you, and then tucked you in. You put on your seatbelt and he closed the door with a tap. He finally headed down the street to his own car. You started your car and pulled into the street.

The blast of warm air from the heater was just what you needed. Except it’d probably make you sweat harder between your thick thighs. You needed his hands there already, spreading your legs so he could look his fill. You could picture it all so well. So vivid.

He pulled out into the street and you followed him to his place. To his credit, he didn’t speed up or take close lights so that you couldn’t follow. He put his blinker on way ahead of time so you didn’t have to scramble after him.

He led you to a corner building that seemed to be an apartment. The faded blue blended well into the dark night, reflecting the stars above. You found available parking and then got out of your car, looking for Kevin.

He walked down the street to you, collecting you from your car with that wide grin of his. His breath fogged into the night time and you smiled. You took your purse with you. You wrapped your hand around his forearm and he led you to the front door.

Inside, the place was as cramped as the rest of Chicago, yet roomy enough that you felt like you could breathe. The inside was nice. There was no peeling paint or stained walls. All of the lights worked and there was a first aid kit inside the doorway. You smiled at Kevin. He told you that he bought a building and planned on getting it fixed up. Something to fall back on after he was done with the force.

He led you to his apartment on the first floor and in the back. His apartment was well decorated in dark tones of mahogany and deep steel blue. There was brick on some walls and it all fit with his dark furniture. It was clean and homey at the same time.

There were sweet smelling candles on the coffee table and newspapers beside at a safe distance. He had a record player next to his TV and a rack of vinyl records underneath it. He turned on ambient lights, enough to set the mood without it being sleazy.

He took your coat off and then his own, hanging it on a rack behind the door. You couldn’t walk two feet forward before he grabbed your hips and pushed you against the wall. He thumbs rubbed your hips back and forward.

He hummed and moved his body closer so that from the chest down, there wasn’t an inch of space to be found. He was so tall. So imposing. So incredibly taller than you that your brain melted.

“I can give you the tour now or later. If it’s now, you’ll take your clothes off for every room we visit. If it’s later, it’s straight to my bedroom but I take my time,” he said.

Your body shivered. You were paralyzed with indecision. You wanted to do both. At the same time. You bit your lip, thinking about which you wanted more.

Kevin smiled. “Now it is. The foyer counts as a room,” he said.

You giggled because his “foyer” opened directly into the kitchen and living room. But you took off one shoe and Kevin smiled. He moved you into the kitchen. “The kitchen,” he said.

He smelled so good, his natural scent filling the room since you were no longer outside. The kitchen was clean, dishes put away and a healthy row of seasonings. He knew his way around a kitchen.

You took off your other shoe, teasing him by technically following the rules. Just because you wanted to submit didn’t mean you couldn’t put up a fight. He took your hands and led you to the living room, his stormy gray couches made lighter by the few throw pillows. He turned on the light in the hallway, and led you to the bathroom. Your dress fell from your shoulders, around your hips, and down your legs. The shimmery material tickled your skin.

He showed you the bathroom. You were already wet from the timbre of his voice. Giving him a strip show and delaying the pleasure only made you unbearably wet. There was a particular ache in your pussy that you needed filled as soon as possible.

You glanced around the bathroom, his enormous shower. You took off your bra, sliding it from your shoulders and looking at him from behind your shoulder. He leaned against the doorway, filling it completely. He blocked out most of the light behind him and sucked in the warm light in his bathroom.

He had a lean to his wide hips and a hand on his belt. The other was above his head. He scratched his head as his eyes looked over your body. “Turn around,” he ordered.

You did as he said, turning around so that he could see your body. He walked closer, eyes straight to your breasts. Your breathing increased, watching him look at your body and find you appealing in so many ways.

He stopped in front of you and leaned down, planting a kiss to each breast. He hummed low in his throat. “I almost can’t make it one more room,” he said.

You grinned. You took his hand while he brought you to his room finally. It definitely looked like him. Nice, clean, but an air of feeling lived in. He had photos of his siblings in his room, some artwork, and his huge bed. It had to be two king sized beds put together. Or maybe it was just your imagination. But you knew that he was tall as hell so he needed a bed big enough.

It was the final room. Kevin led you further in, half closing the door. He trailed a finger across your shoulders as he walked into the room, taking off his green button up. He stood in a blank tank underneath.

Next went his jeans. He kicked off his shoes and then tugged the rest of his pants off. Now he had dark gray briefs and a black tank on. He looked like the poster child on the packages men’s underwear came in.

He sat down on the edge of his bed and beckoned you to come closer. You walked closer, the natural swing in your hips making you feel powerful even though you were handing yourself over to this man.

It felt naughty. It felt kinky. You finally found someone who could help turn your brain off. Someone who made you so hungry with desire that you didn’t notice anything else. You stopped in front of him.

“Panties,” he said.

A small word but a physical effect on you. You trembled with need while you slipped your panties down your legs. You stepped out of them and tossed them to the side. Kevin’s gaze drifted down your body, stopping at the juncture of your legs.

Kevin crooked his finger and then you stepped forward, straddling his thick thigh. You whimpered at the pressure to your clit. Kevin grinned, gripping your ass and putting you in the spot he wanted. Somewhere between his knee and his hip, where you were perfectly balanced.

“Let me watch you give yourself pleasure,” he said. It wasn’t a question. More like a soft plea wrapped in a demand. He deferred to your choices while still taking charge. You nodded.

You put your hands on his shoulders and gyrated on his leg, rubbing your pussy on his thigh. He had coarse hair there, but it only served as an extra bit of friction against your pussy. You whimpered more, finding a rhythm that rubbed against it well.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” he said, that whispery tone tugging on a muscle in your leg. It jumped as you moved your body back and forth.

You opened your eyes and stared into his while you got yourself off on his thigh. He had one hand on your ass, squeezing every so often while you whimpered and whined. “Come on, let me see you let loose,” he whispered.

You whimpered more, getting closer to the sound of his voice. “Let me see it. Let go,” he continued.

You gripped his shoulders and squeezed your legs, so impossibly close. You gave one final sigh before you did explode, cumming on his thigh. You twitched and jerked, cries escaping from you.

“Hmm, cum so pretty,” he mused.

He brought his hand down between your legs, spreading your arousal on his fingers. He moaned at how you soaked his thigh. He rubbed your clit before pushing his fingers inside of you. His fingers searched inside while he brought his lips to yours.

He treated you with a tender but scorching kiss. The kind that made you curl your toes. He nibbled on your bottom lip. You cried out as he rubbed against a deep part inside of you. He flicked his fingers a few more times and you knew that he found your sweet spot.

He mercilessly rubbed it while you sputtered and moaned. You clung to him, hands fisting his tank top. “Shh, don’t fight that shit. Cum again for me,” he said.

You huffed in a delicious, torturous pain. You were trying. You didn’t mean to fight it, only that you were so turned on. You were afraid that you’d rip apart at the seams and never find a way back to your body.

But you continued to look into his drunken eyes, kissing along your mouth. Till it turned sloppy. Till you couldn’t keep your eyes open a second longer. You felt your orgasm approaching once more. You were still nervous, but there was no holding this one back.

You gave up the fight, letting the orgasm wash over you. You were right. It tore you into tiny shreds. You cried out, twitching in his lap. His other arm came around to hold you still while he continued to finger fuck you.

Your legs shook on him while you rode an intense high. You never wanted to come back down. Reluctantly, you did. Kevin slowed his fingers and then finally brought them to your lips. He painted your lips with your cum and you smelled yourself.

Your pussy clenched and Kevin grinned. He kissed you, licking your essence and sharing it with you. Your tongues mixed and danced. You clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck.

You made out for some time. Felt like an eternity. Like you spent thousands of years kissing him and it was enough to sustain you. You began gyrating on his leg again. So fucking insatiable for a man of his size.

He pulled back slowly, keeping your lips pressed together for as long as he could. “Never gon’ get sick of that,” he said. “Now I wanna taste it.”

He made you stand up. Then he stood up himself, once more dazzling you with his height. He pushed you onto the bed and commanded you to open your legs. He palmed himself, adjusting his thick bulge, and then climbed onto the bed. He pushed you to the middle so that he had enough room to lay down.

He stared at you while he lowered his mouth to your pussy. The swipe of his tongue made you cry out. You came twice already, both times you jumped out of your skin. But you were greedy for another one. Rewarding him with moans every time he made you feel good.

You couldn’t contain them. He made out with your pussy. Licking before suckling your pussy with his juicy lips. You moaned, grabbing his head and pushing him deeper. He brought his fingers up to finger you again, spearing you with his thick digits.

“Oh, Kev–” you moaned. “Kev!”

“Say my name again,” he moaned against your pussy.

“Kevin!” You obliged, thighs tingling. You tensed, eyes rolling to the back of your head. This orgasm was another intense one. Robbing you of breath and sight. You lost control of your body as you spasmed on his tongue. Kevin moaned while he sucked up your essence.

He stood up, and pulled his fingers from your pussy. He sucked on his fingers and moaned, winking at you. He pulled off his tank and then his briefs went next. His gold chain glinted in the low light. He gathered up some of your slick, rubbing the length of his humongous dick with it.

He was easily the biggest you’d ever taken. Long and thick, he had been hiding an entire monster all night.

“I’m clean,” he groaned, yanking on his meat. You whimpered, following the motion.

“I am too. I’m on birth control,” you said. It was your turn to wink at him.

“Let me fill that pussy up then,” he said, groaning as his hand moved quicker. He stopped long enough to gather more, playing with your pussy before leaning back to rub the tip of his dick.

“Fill me up, Kev,” you begged and laid down.

He gripped your legs and pushed them over his elbows. He hauled you closer and you yelped. Being manhandled sent a shiver down your spine. He spread your legs wider and then guided himself to your entrance.

You pushed your hand against his chest as he began to breach. He was so big. If it hadn’t been for the foreplay, this would hurt even more. He chuckled. “You can take me,” he promised.

He pushed against your hand and feeble attempt to slow him down. You hissed as he pushed inside slowly, pulling out and then pushing back in. You grew wetter around him and he groaned as it became easier for him to stroke.

He began to move his hips, rolling into the stroke and you hissed with more pleasure. He filled you up completely, taking him just like he said you would.

Your teeth chattered as you stared into his eyes, a look of sweet pain on your face, you were sure. You began to whimper, a growing storm deep inside. “I know, I know,” he cooed, continuing to stroke that long dick of his.

You cried out, his dick hitting your sweet spot. His mushroom head glided against your inner walls and you scrambled for something to hold onto. Your hands found his forearms.

“Kev–” you cried, not enough breath to form his full name. He leaned down and kissed you on the forehead.

“Be good for me and cum on this dick,” he commanded.

You bounced on his dick, wetter by the second. He groaned as you slid easily on his dick. “Cum on this dick, cum on this dick,” he chanted over and over, his harsh breath fanning across your heated, sweaty skin.

“I’m–, oh fuck I’m–” You groaned, throwing your head back while you came. You squeezed the hell out of his dick, holding on for dear life.

Kevin groaned on top of you, his strokes having to slow down while you came. “Fuck, pussy feel even better,” he said. He kissed your forehead again and panted.

He was still stroking, getting stronger with each slide. “One more,” he pleaded.

Fuck! You couldn’t! It’d been a while since someone tore your ass up. Your solo adventures never quite getting you there that many times. However, underneath Kevin, you felt another stirring. This one was quick. You felt it coming and yet you felt like it’d snuck up on you.

You convulsed on his dick with loud, whimpering cries. Broken and estranged sounds escaping you.

Kevin moaned, dropping his sweaty head to your chest. His lips found your nipples and he sucked on them, alternating every so often until they were hard little buds. He kissed along your neck and shoulder, stroking deeper at the closer contact.

You moaned, nails digging into his back. He moaned in your ear while his strokes increased. As if he had been holding himself back earlier and now he could let loose. Now his strokes could turn sloppy and desperate.

“Finna nut,” he moaned.

“Nut in me, Kev. Please, please,” you begged.

“Beg for this nut,” Kevin hissed, pressing his lips to yours. When he pulled back, you sniffled.

“Please Kev. Please nut in me,” you begged.

Kevin groaned, leaning up slightly and climaxing. Hot pulses of cum filled you and your body jerked, feeling the warm length of him inside you. Kevin pushed his hips in like he was trying to keep his cum inside. Let it soak deep into your pussy.

Kevin’s lips found yours in a sloppy, messy pattern and you licked at his lips, completely spent. He grinned and finally pulled out of you. You moaned as his cum slipped out too. Kevin lowered your legs, pushing them open so he could watch himself drip out.

Satisfied, he gave you a final kiss on the forehead. You sighed, settling into his bed like you were settling against a cloud. He returned from the bathroom with a warm washcloth and cleaned you off. He put it back into his bathroom and then he crawled into bed, turning off the lights beside him.

He was warm, impossibly so. Like a furnace all by his lonesome. You turned onto your side and he snuggled against your backside. “That was incredible, thank you,” he said. He kissed your cheek.

“I should be thanking you,” you said, with a small chuckle.

He began to nibble on your ear. “Stay tonight. So I can wake you up to my fingers between your legs,” he whispered in your ear.

“I can’t say no to that,” you said. You didn’t know the proper etiquette for a one night stand. Were you supposed to dip? Were you supposed to stay? One night stand implied that you weren’t going to see him ever again.

But you wanted to keep seeing him. You wanted to experience this over and over again. The way he established control but still gave you plenty of chances to back out. You didn’t have to make major decisions and didn’t have to worry about anything but receiving pleasure. You were thoroughly hooked and needed far more than that.

“Maybe I should feed you some dick. See how well your mouth takes it. If it’ll be anything like your pussy,” he said.

Your pussy clenched with his filthy words. Somehow lulling you to sleep. You were incredibly warm. He pulled the covers over you, trapping you with all his heat.

“So many things I wanna do. Maybe I should tie your hands behind your back and face fuck you until I cum all over that gorgeous face,” he said.

You moaned softly, tiny gasps that filled the quiet space. “Please,” you whispered. You didn’t know what you were begging for. A break? You had so many orgasms tonight, you lost count. More? You couldn’t survive another one at the moment, but fuck it. If you passed out, then you just passed out.

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” you said. You fell asleep with a goofy grin on your face.

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dungeonpuppykai · 1 month

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please i need a pedri fanfic where his gf gets horny in public and starts teasing him until he takes her somewhere private and fucks her

I love your stories theyre amazinggg

I am (was) on my period hence huge feelies so I added those to this because I am very tender on Pedri as it is. I also see him as a very dominant and caregiving person as well as lover so I hope you don't mind what I've made of your request and enjoy it <3

| Unusual |

Pairing: Bf!Pedri | Gf!You.

Warning(s): Smut with plot, unprotected p-in-v, d/s undertones (it's literally Pedri), m!dom, f!sub, Daddy kink, suggestive exhibitionism, doggy style, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, creampie, marking, Pedri calling you vida because I am very fond of that idea, caring Pedri, he's also intimidating bc he's Pedri.

Pedri sighs as he arrests your impish wrist in his hand for the umpteenth time today and peels it off his thigh before carrying it back to your knee.

"Vida…" Usually, a stern look is enough for you to mend your ways and start behaving yourself, but today seems to be the day where you decide to grow immunity towards his warnings.

And it usually never comes down to this tone of his because it hardly ever means anything ideal for you.

But you just can't keep your hands to yourself today.

You whine under your breath when he resumes his conversation with Gavi; one of his best mates, again. When you are still not paid the attention that you so desperately crave, you sigh and glance around the table at everyone present.

It is a boring Saturday lunch that the two of you are having with some of your boyfriend's club mates and their girls. You are not to be taken the wrong way. These kinds of things are usually quite fun for you.

The keyword is usually.

Because the exception is days when your mind cannot think of anything other than your man's cock while your insides burn.

The past week was a busy one for Pedri and you are a good girlfriend so you patiently waited, thinking he was gonna give you what you needed most on the night of the big game when he wouldn't have anything left to worry about for a while after. But he was so exhausted when he got home last night that you postponed the fulfillment of your need for the next morning.

Except, you woke up to your love making breakfast and then informing you over it that the boys had invited you two for lunch. If that wasn't messy enough, he had had some errands to run before said lunch which further crushed any hopes of something quick as well.

And now, here you are.

Frustrated, on edge, excited beyond measure, moody, iffy and extremely noncompliant.

Then, on top of it all, the food is taking forever and the conversations are way too mundane for you; a horny girl who was busy needily ogling at her boyfriend.

It isn't your fault, really. He looks too fucking great to resist. You know a shave is probably coming and you love him either way but Pedri looks just so hot with the light stubble a few days of negligence has caused on his handsome face. Then his thick dark hair rests on his forehead in the most perfect way as his naturally stern eyes move along with his strong, manly hands each time he makes a gesture. And the way his lips move when he speaks… Your thighs clench at the memories of all the times they have been between them.

You break against your forced resolve once more when he hums along to whatever Ferran is saying and leans in your direction to pour you a glass of water to drink because you can not track your hydration to save your own life. The sheer dominance in the way he does not break his conservation even once but places the Tumblr in front of you causes a wave of burning hot love to wash over you and then you just can't take it anymore.

Where you had played with his fingers, snuggled into his arm, groped his thigh and then stroked his leg with your foot before, you think fuck all and 'drop' your napkin which just happens to fall between his feet.

"Woopsie" of course, Pedri knows you are up to no good when you bend down to 'fetch' it and place your hand on his knee for support. You take your time with 'finding' said napkin and your hand shamelessly trails to his dick in the meantime, hurriedly taking a fat, mighty squeeze before your claw can be pried off its prey.

Your boyfriend has realized by now to not expect anything innocent from you today because although you are the shy one between the two of you usually, your antics since the moment you took your seats have been of the naughty sort.

Today is a very unusual day indeed.

Pedri stills and stops mid sentence, his whole body stiffening as he realizes what is happening. Your party grows concerned over his sudden silence and his ears redden at the awareness of you not coming back up, instead choosing to remain 'searching' for your napkin while clinging your fingers to his now hard cock like your life depends on it.

"Oh" but of course, the young man is much stronger than you and so your hand is easily manhandled into his. "I see" he pretends as though you have said something to him before standing up and facing your lunch companions. "She needs my help navigating the place for a restroom, we will be right back" the way he cares for you like one would a child is nothing weird for your close friends and family anymore. Pedri helps you out with the smallest of things and the most basic of tasks and that is just the dynamic the two of you share.

However, there is nothing tender in the way he drags you behind him with a firm hold on your wrist. You whimper when you are taken to a deserted hallway and then pushed into some sort of a cctv-less maintenance room because unless Pedri wants whatever he is about to do to you playing on every other news channel by the evening's end, this would have to do for now.

"Tsk, tsk, vida" you gulp as you blink repeatedly to get your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. The door slowly clicks shut behind you and you feel your shoulders jump at the sound due to how quiet it is otherwise. You want to turn around and face your lover, perhaps inquire why he's done what he has done but you're both too intimidated and excited to do so.

Before you can decide what you want to do, his arms snake around your waist from behind to press your back into his chest as his lips brush against your ear. "What am I going to do with you, hm?" A shudder sets off in your bones as his hands begin to re-explore the bumps and crevices of your body.

You instantly relax in his embrace and crane your neck backwards to lean your head against his shoulder. "I- I dunno…" The two of you move in a sync and his lips find the crook of your neck. "W- What are you going to do with me…?" Though you intend for your words to be one of fear and panic, what ends up dripping from them is pure excitement.

Pedri groans before your body is pushed up against the many shelves that are mounted on the middle wall that you face. "I think a lesson in basic manners is a good place to start with" you try your best to feign consternation but the eager way in which you fold your arms over one of the shelves and spread your legs as your boyfriend raises the hem of your skirt from behind gives your intentions away.

"Oh, no!" Yet you push on; so frustrated and needy at this point that any touch from him is good touch for you.

Pedri clicks his tongue before squeezing your panty clad cheeks. "I spoil you too much, don't I, vida?" You let out a soft sound that you subconsciously make when thinking but your boyfriend cuts off your thought process with a loud slap that catches both your cheeks at once.

"Ow!" You found out just a few days into dating him that he was much stronger than you with how effortlessly he lifted heavy things and manhandled you when you got more comfortable around each other. So it always hurts like a bitch when he's in a reproachful mood.

"Already?" He taunts you mockingly and lands another mean spank on your buzzing cheeks. "But vida," your eyes flutter close and you have to slither in a heavy gasp when he drapes himself over you from behind, one hand tracing its way up your side to palm one of your boobs, "I haven't even started with you yet."

"Hnnng, please!" You push your ass backwards to try and turn him on. That is when you realize that he is rock hard already.

Well, that explains the edge in his usually calm and collected tone.

"Being a fussy little brat throughout breakfast" two slaps on each cheek. "Refusing to get out of the shower" you hadn't even realized that you had started 'bratting' out of your ire. You whine and bounce as he settles upon a rhythm. "Scrolling your silly little social media instead of getting ready for lunch" he suddenly yanks your panties off and despite the sting in your backside, you feel your needy hole clench before releasing a thick blob of pure hot arousal. "And then behaving like a perverted little maniac throughout–" the sound that the meeting of his unforgiving fingers with your nether lips -due to the gap that your squirming has caused between your thighs- creates is stunning enough to momentarily mum your boyfriend who is usually a composed know-it-all.

"Hm~!" The sound is tugged out from deep within your vocal cords. Your knees tremble when you feel Pedri's prying fingers worm their way between your crack before he spreads your privates out.

"Geez, vida" his breath is hot on your pucker and the snort he lets out when the sensation causes it to clench unconsciously makes blood rush to your face. "I know you're a horny little thing but fuck have you made a mess?" He can act as judgemental as he wants but you know that he loves every little drop of the need that he makes you feel.

Which is all the time.

You pout and instinctively push yourself closer to his face. "N- Need you… D- Daddy…"

"Need me?" Your teeth trap your bottom lip between them when you feel one of his thumbs inch closer to your sopping cunt. "Where do you need me, baby?"

You whine as your forehead creases. "Y- You know where!"

He chuckles. "I don't think right now is the time when you push your luck, vida" your features push themselves upwards when you feel the tip of his thumb graze against the outline of your pussy lips. You let out an icy whimper in response so he adds; "Come on, if you tell me how you need me I'll give it to you" though he pretends as though he is unaffected by the sight he faces, you can hear the agitated urgency in his voice.

Your hips timidly try to move against his finger that refuses to give you anything beyond enticing yet unfulfilling strokes over your squishy petals. "I- I… n- need you i- in…" You hear clinking behind you but you are too busy in your desperation to find something pleasurable in the thumb that presses against you. "Inm- mypussy,Daddy" the questioning hum that he lets out rings in your ear when he is behind you within the next second and the way in which his cock jabs its way through your eager entrance at the same time causes for your eyes to bulge out.

"What was that, baby?" Pedri has to clamp one of his palms over your mouth to keep you from moaning out loud. The sudden bustle that sounds right outside the wardrobe as if on cue causes him to quickly pull back and fuck into you harder as you clench to aid him. It is greedy and rushed; the both of you aware of how you are dangling by a thin thread but the franticness to devour one another so extreme in your bodies that you want to finish before you are caught.

It is the only goal.

"I couldn't quite catch that" the way he roughly whispers in your ear to avoid detection from the manager who is busy barking orders at the staff outside while wrapping a hand around your hair has you arching your back as you get fucked into the shelf. When you refuse to respond, he has to add with a mean fondling of your boobs; "Come on, vida. Now you know better than to disobey Daddy when he can very easily destroy you for it" your lust-drunk body springs up in alarm.

The executions of his threats are always deadly and edging is not even the last thing that you want right now.

"I…" His cock is too pleasurable inside you as he pushes in before pulling out its length through your tight entrance with each speeding thrust, its girth putting the most knee weakening strain on the band of your pussy as his bulging veins and coarse edges rub against your sensitive walls in a way that causes your head to spin.

Your head is yanked back by your hair. His lips ghost over the skin of your temple that gets overwhelmed by his irregular breathing. "Go on, vida. You're doing so well taking my cock" his other hand parts from your boobs to reach for one of your knees before it is bent to be propped against one of the lower shelves. Your mouth falls open and your eyes shut to clench themselves at how far up you feel him, his thick tip colliding with your special spot as a result. "Say it for me."

"I- I need you i- in my pussy, Daddy!" Your cry is rather loud but neither of you are in the mind to care about that anymore. Your hips tighten when the snapping of his hips escalates to full on pounding and the towels and little bottles placed on the shelves begin to rattle and tumble all over. "Always need you in my pussy, Daddy!" He rewards you with the dipping of his fingers between your thighs.

"Good girl" the digits easily find your squelching cunt and he uses his grip on your hair to pull your head to one side so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck.

The gliding of his fingers is too much for your desperately worked up and frustrated pussy to handle so when his hand uncurls from your hair to pinch one of your nipples while his teeth nibble on that one sensitive patch of your skin, you can't help but throw your head back to let out a gut wrenching moan.

Your vision fills with neon colors and your hearing declines. The tension within your hips is pulled loose and heat surges through every single knot that has formed in your muscles over the week. Pedri's hot cum that fills you soon after is the perfect end and you finally feel in place after days.

Sex has the opposite effect on the both of you; while it helps Pedri clear his head, yours gets fuzzy instead. So it is him who fixes you up when he decides that he is done with you for now. You meekly stand like a baby– his baby as he pats your disheveled hair down, adjusts your bra and mends your outfit to the best of his ability.

"Look at the mess you have made, vida" you whine and snuggle into his chest so you can hide your flushed face when he points out the wreck that you two have made of the place. Pedri chuckles as he fishes out some compensatory money from his wallet and places the bills on one of the shelves before taking your hand in his and helping you walk back to the table as you happily waddle behind him, senses numb but relaxed. No one says anything or even acknowledges your long absence but they know.

The flaming red hickey on your neck is the evidence to their suspicions.

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pure-oddity · 8 months

Text

Fast foodies know the deal

Ghost x reader

(not proof read, this is just fluff straight from the source

Warnings: none, ovulation mention maybe? Its brought up a single time.)

The craving hits around 3 in the morning, it's ovulation week so the idea of not getting chicken nuggets from the drive through makes you want to cry.

You turn towards the sleeping lug beside you. He's on his back, breaths deep and even. Still as a grave but at your movement he takes the arm you had been using as a pillow to drag you further into his side.

Your Simon, took you forever just to get the man to admit he did more than tolerate you. even longer to admit he cared for you. It took you almost using his toothbrush to realize that the man might actually (gasp) like you. That one you didn't push, figured he'd come to terms with it on his own.

As you look at how peaceful he seems you try to fight the urge, you really do, but as you prop yourself up on your elbows and move closer to Simon's ear you resign to begging his forgiveness later.

"Simon, my baby? You sleeping?"

You wouldn't have known he was a awake had it not been for the lone eye opening to check on you

"Was, love. I was. Whats wrong, bad dream? Y' Can turn on the telly to that duck cartoon or the robots - won't bother me none." He rubs a comforting hand up and down your back, he's being so sweet you really do start to feel bad.

"I want chicken nuggets."

Silence.

Both eyes are open now.

The silence continues.

You smile sheepishly.

Wordlessly simon extracts his arm and turns so his back is to you.

"Nnooooooo! Simon pleeeaase. Pretty please? I want chicken nuggets so bad!"

"Go ahead. keys are on the rack, tanks full."

"Nooo you have to take me! come on baby please, for me?"

"My love. Sunshine. Light of my life. If you're hungry i made a perfecly good roast last night. Heat that up and let a man rest."

"I dont want a perfectly good roast! I want chicken nuggets. And a burger. And fries - oh maybe a shake?" You lean over him, hair purposely hung over into his face. He turns quickly and you're nose to nose

"So youre gonna have me get up at 3 fucking a.m. to get you a greasey, artey clogging, cholesterol raising gastrointestinal disaster of a meal - when we have a perfectly good home made dinner in the fridge."

"....please?"

Silence.

A deep suffering sigh.

An ecstatic squee

"Just get your fuckin shoes on"

------

You lean back over into the passenger seat, simon grumpy faced as you insisted that you should be the one to order.

You pat your thighs in glee as he pulls up to the window, gives you a dirty look , and hands the cashier his card.

The second window delivers your meal and drink quickly, you dig in like a starved animal. You're mid chew when he gives a grunt. A snooty sounding eh hem.

You grin and giggle, slowly airplaning him a nugget.

"Give me the chicken or i'll take the whole box"

You squeak and shove it to his lips quickly. His jaws snap around the nugget and it's gone within a single bite - you retract your fingers, still intact but wet with spit.

You give an 'eeeech' and look for somewhere to wipe your hand.

"Any of this ends up in or on my interior and it'll be your arse."

You roll your eyes and reach in the bag for a napkin, knocking the fries over in the process.

Silence.

The car drifts slowly to the left and is parked along the side of the road.

Not a word spoken.

You try to shove as many back into the carton as possible.

He stares at you.

You smile sweetly at him before leaning over the center console and kissing him. You meet his lips, they're stretched into a dangerous grin.

"Love" kiss "did you" kiss "spill salt" kiss "in my truck?"

You might not know a lot, but you know that voice means you're in trouble, which means it's distraction time.

You continue your sweet onslaught of kisses.

"Thank you for taking me baby, I love you so much. ", another smooch

is delivered.

"Youre my person, my favorite guy, love of my life."

He bites at your lip and you barely manage to slip it from his teeth

"Wanna spend the rest of my life with you, grow old with you"

He grips the back of your head and maneuvers your ear to his mouth, in a deep rumble he asks

"Are there fries on my floor, love?"

The dangerous smile still present.

"No of course not baby! i cleaned those up."

"So my truck is fry free?"

"Well - no didn't say that. there's a, a few under the seat"

He's grappling you into his lap now, the man looks a hint deranged.

"And why, my love, are you telling me about them instead getting them?"

he presses.

"'Cause I - hehe - I can't reach!" You giggle out as his hands slink towards your sides.

He pokes and prods at you, growling not unlike a bear while you squeal and squeak out little laughs.

"Gets a man up at ass o'clock-"

"Oh please, you get up early anyway!"

"makes him drive to get congealed grease-"

"you had a nugget too!"

"Then trashes his truck."

"Oh please it's like a handful of fries, I'll get them, i'll get them!"

He frees you with a huff and you dive back over to your side of the car. You pop open your door and hop outside to get a better angle at the underside of the seat. He gets impatient as you fish around for the last few fries, giving a little hurrah as the last one is snatched.

Clambering back into the truck you grin at him, happy as can be. He hums a short laugh, and you're off to home again.

He makes a beeline for the bedroom and you trot over to the counter to finish your meal, most of it having been shared and eaten in the truck. You sit back a moment to enjoy the feeling of fullness when you see Simon emerge again.

"Bed. Now. Kept me up long enough" he's already on you before you can think of a reply, slung over his shoulder. He makes quick work of getting you both situated in your proper spots.

You're snuggled into his side for the night, full and content. He breathes in deep and exhales slowly. you draw nonsensical patterns on his bare chest, playing with the hair there. As sleep overtakes you, your palm flattens over the spot where his heart resides; and you feel him relax just a smidgen more.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #fluff #odd stories #all of this was also written on a phone #so like of formating is weird thats why #simon riley fanfic #simon riley fluff #is it so wrong to want a big beefy grumo to get up in the dark of the morning to get you food???? i think not #is he maybe ooc in this? perhaps. perhaps. do i just wanna write a story in which the man is happy and has a dork of a spouse? ye.#also when i have nightmares i watch one of two cartoons on mute- its either transformers or darkwing duck!#sunshine series

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dollfaceksj · 7 months

Note

CAL part 2 when???

here u go bby…

remember: CAL will get updates every friday, saturday and sunday. might not always be that consistent but ill try my best!

can’t afford love | myg (m) #2

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“would you be willing to give him a sibling?”

yoongi nearly chokes on his own saliva

he wipes his mouth with the used napkin before looking back at you. “what?”

you lean back in your chair and throw your leg over the other, crossing your arms over your chest

“i’m asking if you’d be willing t–”

“i heard you.”

you tilt your head to the side, watching as he continues to stare at you

trying to make sure whether you’re joking or not

“let me get this straight right now,” he says as he leans forwards. “are you actually asking me to knock you up?”

well… if he says it like that you might forget abt the baby and just want him up in ur guts

WHAT ARE U SAYING?

be serious.

“well, you said whatever jun wants, jun gets.” you glance at jun. “and he wants someone that he can play with that’ll love him unconditionally and that he can love unconditionally.”

yoongi’s brows knit together, eyes studying you closely whilst you stare at jun. you continue, “he tries his best to fit in so he’s really attached to his friends at daycare. you know what happened during his birth.”

at this, yoongi winces. he remembers the complications of your pregnancy with jun very clearly.

“and you know it was originally our plan to have two kids. we were always of the opinion that we wanted 2 kids that could have each other and be there for each other.” you let out a breath cause it just seemed like you were holding it the entire time (you were). “and it’d just be easier to have kids by the same man, married or not.”

you finally make eye contact with him

and he’s still staring

straight at you

like you’re crazy.

“you realize what you’re asking of me, right?”

you roll your eyes. “obviously i know what i’m asking. you can be as involved as you want, i’m doing this for jun.”

“don’t say it like that,” he snaps. “saying you’re doing this for jun as if i wouldn’t run around the perimeter of the earth until the skin on my feet fell off for him.”

you squint your eyes at him and just as you’re about to respond, he continues;

“and i can’t just be super involved with jun and not with the new baby. that’s fucked up,” he says as he shakes his head

he’s right, you suppose

he’s very right

“let me–” he sighs as he rubs his face. “let me just think about it.”

you nod your head slowly. “of course,” you say. “just let me know beforehand. if you agree, great. if not, i can ask someone else.” you rise to your feet and start gathering the dirty dishes

“what?” he asks, a twitch in his brows

you glance up at him as you stand up. “what?”

he frowns. “who are you going to ask?”

you shrug your shoulders. “jimin or seokjin or something.” you start heading into the kitchen. “or maybe find someone on reddit or whatever.”

both jimin and seokjin are your college friends, mutual friends of you and yoongi

he quickly gets up and follows you, taking the dirty plates out of your hands. “you’re not going to ask them.” he puts the plates in the sinks and turns to you. “they wouldn’t do that, they’re not… father material.”

ugh. look at him trying to find a reason to voice why he doesn’t think you asking your friends is a good idea without just being honest about why he wouldn’t like it

you tilt your head to the side. “why not? i’ve asked them before in a hypothetical sense and they weren’t opposed to it.”

at this, his frown deepens

he closes the distance between you two almost instantly. he says, “i’ll do it, there’s no need to ask anyone else.”

ugh

you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes

what the hell is his deal?

right girl… pretend like you’re not enjoying this

you shake your head and cross your arms over your chest. “i don’t need you to do it just to spite me, yoongi. fucking grow up,” you mumble as you turn to walk back to the table

but he stops you in your tracks by grabbing you by the bicep

“it’s not to spite you, it’s for jun and the new baby. you’re right, we agreed on 2 kids and it’s best for them to share both parents. i’ll do it.” he lets go of your bicep after he’s seemingly convinced you to stay where you are

ohhh

now he wants to come around

you idly blink at him for a few moments. “i want you to do it because you want to do it, not because–”

“i want to.” he takes a slep closer, now menacingly looming over you. “i want to do whatever it takes.”

when you think he’s convincing enough, he adds, “you want me to put a baby in you? i’ll put a fucking baby in you.”

right. 😂😂😂

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 okay….

your throat is tightening and your chest stutters with the way your heart feels like it’ll jump out of your body.

he’s staring down at you with such venom in his eyes that it almost stings you

“i’ll give you a whole goddamn soccer team if you need me to.” his eyes continue to stare you down. “if that’s what i need to do to make jun happy, i’ll do it.”

you blink at him, his warm breath fanning over your face. “okay,” you try to say confidently but it comes out a whisper

“how are we gonna go about it?” he quietly asks as he takes a small step back to end the proximity between you two

UGHHHH

here comes the part that you dread the most

you blink at him and your cheeks heat up. “i don’t expect you to go jack off in some random clinic, yoongi. just… in the traditional way.”

“that’s not what i meant,” he mumbles as he crosses his arms over his chest, ears a soft shade of red. “i meant when. where?”

“here. i’m ovulating this weekend.”

he coughs at the new information. damn. he’s supposed to fuck you this weekend already?

he starts nodding his head. “what about jun?”

“i’ll drop him off at my mom’s.”

he stares at you for a moment longer. “you’ve planned this out.”

“clearly.” you brush past him and gather more of the dirty dishes

he silently watches you, clearly still thinking about the crazy thing he just agreed to

you abruptly turn to him. “and listen here,” you say as you walk up to him, closing the distance and pressing an accusatory finger into his chest until he winces

“no foreplay. no kissing. no sweet talking. no aftercare.”

this might hurt him more than the finger pressing into him

because yoongi loves all of those things

yoongi loves foreplay. loves kissing. loves praising. loves to take care after

he frowns at you for a few moments. “no foreplay? how do you expect to ha–”

“i’ll make sure to be prepared by the time you arrive. don’t you worry about that.” you turn on your heels and gather the remaining dirty plates and utensils before putting them in the sink and drowning them in water

he quietly sighs. “so, that’s it? i come by every few weeks to fuck you and we don’t even communicate?”

ohhhh

NOW he wants to care about that?

you bitterly laugh. “oh, you mean like our shitty marriage the last 6 months leading up to our divorce?”

you can tell he didn’t like that by the way his nostrils flare and a muscle in his jaw tenses

this one stings

his face turns into a scowl. “don’t put everything on me. that’s not fair.”

you shrug your shoulders. “just tellin’ it how it is.” you brush past him to head into the living room, seeing jun still playing with his new toy

yoongi follows you out, shoving his hands in his pockets. “you know you’re being unfair. it’s why you’re walking away from me.”

“honestly, yoongi,” you say as you turn to him. “kiss my ass.”

you then turn to pick jun up off the floor. “you need to go to sleep, baby, it’s getting late.”

you hold jun in your arms and surprisingly he’s not protesting

he holds out his grabby hands at his father and yoongi takes him right away

he says bye to him, cuddling and poking jun until he’s shaking from laughter

you take him back and head into jun’s room, changing his clothes and tucking him into bed

you kiss his small forehead and turn the lights off, leaving his nightlamp on before heading into your own room

you strip, reaching for the bathrobe

“is that why you wore my favorite dress?”

you squeal at the sudden voice coming from the entrance of your room as you turn around, hugging the bathrobe to hide your exposed body

your eyes meet yoongi’s, who is leaning against the doorframe with his hands buried in his pockets

“what the fuck are you doing here? i thought you’d already left,” you mumble as you quickly scramble to put the bathrobe on and tie the rope around your waist

“relax. nothing i haven’t seen before.” he starts walking further into your room, closing the distance between you two

and each step he takes makes your heart beat of your damn chest

get your shit together !!!

“i don’t care! you can’t just–”

“and why not?” he finally stops walking when he’s right in front of you, half an arms length away from you. “you’re asking me to fuck you but i can’t see you in your underwear? how backwards is that?”

you angrily frown up at him. “i didn’t consent to you seeing me like this, at this moment.”

he blinks a few times and then tilts his head to the side. “you’re right. sorry. won’t happen again.” he looks around the room before back to you. “all i wanted to do was ask when you expect me to come.”

huh?

what is he even

???

your brow pinch together in confusion and the back of your neck heats up. “uhh…” you blink a few times, wondering if you heard him correctly. “when you’re inside of me..?”

girl..

he idly blinks at you with a soft frown on his brows. his eyes pingpong between yours from left to right, dropping to your lips for a moment before back into your eyes.

his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he speaks again and says, “i was talking about when you expect me to arrive… this weekend. what day. what time.”

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 right!

dumb bitch😭

“oh,” you mumble, heat rising to your cheeks and ears, a slight twitch in your lips. “uh, saturday… saturday at 8pm is fine.”

his tongue peeks out and swipes along his lips again as he stares you down before nodding. “okay. i’ll see you then.”

“yeah,” you reply, voice higher pitched than usual

heart beating a thousand miles a minute

“see you, y/n.” the way your name rolls off his tongue so deliciously whilst he’s still in your proximity, feline eyes staring you down, it all sets your entire body on fire

he looks at you for a moment longer before turning around and heading down the corridor before you hear him shove his feet into his shoes and leave your apartment

ahhhh

your heart won’t stop beating out of your chest

your palms are sweaty

your entire body is on fire

fuck

is this really a good idea?

to be continued.

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xuchiya · 2 months

Text

c.san {my sweet frosting}

cafe love m.list || k.hongjoong || p.seonghwa || j.yunho || k.yeosang || c.san || s.mingi || j.wooyoung || c.jongho

The aroma of freshly baked cupcakes wafted through the air, a siren song that led you straight to Cafe Love, you were new to the whole city of Seoul— a foreigner— so with this smell as you first took your walk in the morning. And now with the love of the smell and the love for food decorating, you caught yourself a job, not so far from your apartment.

Inside, the staff bustled about, each with a designated role – the barista with a practised flick of the wrist pouring latte art, the cashier rattling off witty greetings, and a girl, hair a mess of sunshine curls, haphazardly placing cupcakes in the glass display case.

That girl, is you, was the embodiment of "charmingly clumsy." You earned that nickname when you accidentally ran your hand on your hair whilst it was dirty with flour, creating highlights of white on your black hair. The baker shakes his head, patting your head as to help you clean your hair and to also congratulate you for getting yourself a job as the food decor.

As you fumbled with a particularly frosted blueberry muffin, a voice, smooth as caramel, startled me, "Excuse me, miss?"

“Yes sir?” Turning, you bumped into the cupcake stand but your eyes immediately settled on the man, tall and handsome with kind eyes hence looking like a cat glaring eyes, pointed to his own cheek, a question in his gaze. Mortified, you mirrored his action yet no clue why you were copying him.

Your fingers, however, seemed determined to paint stripes across your nose instead. Another swipe, another miss. By the third attempt, your cheeks resembled a battlefield of frosting and flour.

Before you could self-destruct entirely by embarrassing yourself by copying the man without knowing you were making a huge mess on your face. A whole canvas of frosting and flour on your cheeks, nose and forehead. The man stepped forward, a gentle smile playing on his lips. With a practised ease that hinted at similar clumsiness in his past, he brushed the frosting and flours off your face with his napkin.

And that moment there, time seemed to slow down, everything seemed to blur except for the man in front of you; he is the definition of a ‘chivalry is not dead’. It was just the two of you, the gentle brush of his fingers, the sweet scent of the cafe, and a warmth spreading through me, not just from the embarrassment.

Suddenly, a booming voice jolted us back to reality. "San, my man! People are waiting for their macchiatos!" Your eyes and his attention diverted to Wooyoung, who had a frown look on his face; both you and San’s face turned red.

The man, "San" apparently, chuckled. "Okay okay Woo, I’m just grabbing my muffin." He winked at you, a silent promise of a proper conversation later. "It was, uh, nice meeting you… Miss Frost." Your cheeks burned hotter than a fresh cup of coffee, but a smile stretched across your face. "It was also nice meeting you, San."

He waves goodbye to you, turning to Wooyoung, “See you tomorrow Woo!” You watch him turn a corner, disappearing completely out of your sight. You sigh in content, your hand gripping a soft cloth on your fist. You look down to see a handkerchief with an initial of ‘C.S’ on the edge of the cloth, you immediately think of the S to be the same man, San.

You panic for a bit until you notice a note inside, you pull it out to see a small piece of paper, revealing the letter inside; you read silently.

‘If it wasn’t for the frosting on your cheek, I wouldn’t be able to talk to you. Though whether you have frosting or not, I would still dare myself to talk to you.

' I’ll come back here again so you could return this handkerchief and maybe, your name too and also can I also ask for a date to where I can take you?’

The rest of the day passed in a blur of smiles and leap of heart as you continued working whilst thinking of the feline eye gentleman. Your cheeks aching at the thought of the next day and the cloth gleaming silently inside your apron as you finish up your frosting on the cupcakes and muffin displays.

San looked at the paper bag at the corner of his office table with a small lettering on it.

‘Enjoy Mr. Frost.’

He chuckles at your attempt but his heart soars at the thought of leaving you a note and his attempt of asking you out. He looks forward to seeing you again and maybe this time, he will be smudged with your colorful life.

#ateez #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez choi san #ateez san #choi san #san x reader #san x you #san ateez #choi san fluff #choi san imagines #choi san scenarios #choi san x reader #san fluff

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alexsoenomel · 4 months

Text

Random Dean Winchester Headcanons:

Dean not letting you drive Baby. Too protective over his car. You would beg him but he would always say no. He let you once though – on your birthday – but ended up regretting when you almost crashed into a tree.

He loved drinking coffee with you in the morning in silence. It was your morning ritual. Coffee and then everything else.

Loved discussing music with you, especially during road trips. He would even let you pick the next song, just because he thought your taste was awesome.

Being overprotective and possessive. If someone hurts you – they're dead. If someone flirts with you – they get a polite fuck off. If they continue? They get a punch in the face.

He loved the way you would look at him whenever he would wear a suit. You loved pulling his tie and giving him a sweet little kiss before work, telling him how handsome he looked.

He loved sleeping next to you. He loved the smell of your hair and how it lightly tickled his face. He also loved being the small spoon every once in a while – he felt safe next to you. He would still put his gun under his pillow though; old habits die hard.

Dean loved when you would play with his hair, especially before bed since sleep deprivation was his best friend.

Random dates. He loved taking you out on random free days. Dinners, drinks, star gazing, night drives – he loved spending time with you.

He wasn’t much of a reader, but he loved when you would read him your favorite books. Sometimes he would read it to you, the sound of his voice was like a lullaby for you on bad days when you couldn’t sleep. You would use him as a pillow as he would read to you until your light snores filled the room.

Arguing. You would argue mostly while working. You were both stubborn and impulsive so poor Sam always had to be the voice of reason. He wanted to keep you safe and you wanted to hunt.

Jealousy. You would get jealous. Dean was a good looking man and other women would try to get his attention and of course it never worked. He would just ignore them, but that still didn’t ease your jealousy. You would grow silent, anger written on your face and he would of course tease you, making the situation worse – for him.

“Be careful, she’s going to come and steal your man,” He told you once, after a waitress left her number on a napkin.

“Be careful,” you started as you kicked him in the shin under the table, “next time I’m kicking you where you like my face the most.” He groaned in pain and Sam almost choked on his coffee.

Bickering. Because he was a little shit and you were his little shit. Two sides of the same coin, actually.

Kisses, lots and lots of kisses. He loved kissing every inch of you, taking his sweet time, slow, sensual and tortuous. You would whimper under him every single time.

Holding hands. First time he held your hand was while driving home after a ghost almost took you out. He lectured you after Sam successfully burnt its bones, told you how reckless and stupid you were for jumping in front of him. Then he realized you almost died – the thought scared the living shit out of him.

He was a switch, plain and simple. Sometimes he loved calling you his dirty little slut, making you scream his name over and over, but other times he just wanted to admire your body as you would ride him. He loved when you were in control.

Praise kink. That man loved being praised. “You feel so good, baby,” was his favorite.

He would smile whenever you would call him handsome.

You were his sunshine, darling and sweetheart. He would call you by your name only when he was pissed.

He loved you more than anything, but at the same time he thought he didn’t deserve you.

You told him I love you first, drunk on whiskey after a successful hunt. Sam was sick that day, so it was only you and him. He didn’t say anything at first, instead he kissed you and took you home. He made love to you that night and between kisses the words slipped. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

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jarofstyles · 5 months

Text

Azure- Indigo 5

Helllooo my loves! Here is part 5 to indigo. It's really cute I can't lie, I'm proud of this story :')

Check out our Patreon for 100+ exclusive writings and early access to the next 3 parts of Indigo.

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WC- 5.4k

-------------

Y/N had forgotten how Harry appeared to other people.

She had been almost floating on air the rest of the weekend, a smile permanently on her face as she walked about her apartment, tending to chores and making sure to take time to look after her tattoo. She had been diligent about her research beforehand, yes, but it was even more imperative now that she kept the piece in pristine condition.

They’d been texting frequently. Once she had gotten home, he had responded back and it simply hadn’t stopped. There were pauses, warnings from him that he had a client coming in or he was going on a run, but most of the weekend had been spent texting him, giggling at her phone, getting to know him a bit more. His texting style was a bit similar to how he spoke, a bit of dry humor sprinkled in. It seemed he was a little more bold through the phone as well, messaging her with smooth flirtation and obvious interest in her stories. He asked involved questions, checked in on her multiple times, but he wasn’t overly bearing. Y/N felt like she was being hand fed bits and pieces of the man that had always puzzled her.

“So who’s the guy that had you pretending you’re not smiling at your phone?” Over brunch, Y/N’s friend Julia had caught on to her sneaking peeks at her phone, smiling to herself and trying to pace responses. It wouldn’t be hard for anyone to notice this. Y/N couldn’t be subtle if it could save her life. Once you got to know her, it was even more obvious that her feelings would be displayed out for anyone to see. A real heart on her sleeve type of girl.

Y/N hadn’t wanted to bring him up initially, but the excitement to finally dish about a guy she was actually excited about seeing- even if it was only one planned date- had her mouth almost ready to burst. She didn’t want to tell anyone in their initial friend group because… because what if it didn’t work and then everyone made it super awkward? Y/N did not do good with that sort of pressure and honestly, she would most definitely cry if someone teased her for not being able to keep up with Harry.

Julia, however? Sweet Julia was a former coworker, mostly removed from that group of friends and it was easier to dish when she hadn’t met him.

“Well…” Y/N tucked her hair back over her shoulder, fiddling with her napkin. “It’s a guy I’ve known for a bit. He’s actually the one who did my tattoo.” Lifting her arm she motioned to the ink that her friend had previously fawned over. She had a few tattoos herself and had been impressed at how good it had turned out despite some of the detail being scabbed over. Y/N had taken a bit of the moisturizer Harry had given her out after their drinks and shown her, the whole thing.

“Ohmygod- a tattoo artist?” Her friend’s eyes widened. “The one who did that one? You sly thing… did you get down and dirty in the studio? Oh my god, you gave it so good he had to see more of you? Y/N, you’ve been holding out on me!”

Y/N gaped, floundering for a moment before housing her friends with wide eyes. Her voice hadn’t exactly been quiet and she could feel the lava burning underneath her skin. She loved Julia, but she didn’t have a sense of volume sometimes. “Jules!” She hissed, shaking her head. “No! I didn’t- I didn’t do anything in the studio. No, he was completely and utterly professional and sweet.” There was a weird need to defend Harry’s honor.

In reality, there was no true idea in her mind if Harry did that sort of stuff before. With how attractive he was, she was sure people attempted it but she doubted he would actually do so. Not when he had worked so hard on his shop’s reputation. He’d told her all about that when they’d gone out afterwards.

“Ok, then what the hell happened? What is his name? Let me see him, immediately.” Her expectant hand shot out, looking at her with a raised brow as Y/N chuckled at her friends' antics- and her audacity. She was lucky Y/N loved her.

“His name is Harry.” Her voice was soft as she typed his username into the instagram search bar. “He’s a tattoo artist. I met him through our friend group. He’s a friend of Sarah’s. He did my tattoo at his own shop. He owns it himself, and he’s got a few people who work there too.” Pride bled from her voice as she pulled his profile up and handed it over. There weren't too many of him. He had a few tagged, a few photos on his own, but it was mostly his tattoo work and random things here and there. “He’s got a few awards and done a few famous people’s work. It’s so cool. He drew my tattoo up right next to me in his office, his process is so interesting.”

The girl was chirping about him as if she was already smitten, a dreamy little smile on her lips slipping a bit as she took in Julia’s expression. “What?”

“Nothing! Nothing- not a bad look, I promise.” Julia hurried to correct her face but she turned the phone back to Y/N. “This is him? The one in the black?”

It was a photo of him she had seen the other night while she did her obligatory snooping in his tagged. A tight black tee shirt with the Harley Davidson logo on the chest covered his torso and tight fitting black jeans covered his bottom down to his brown boots. His arms bulged slightly as they were crossed over his body, a pint in hand as he looked at the camera. The other hand held out a middle finger over his arm, a cold scowl on his face. His piercings glimmered in the photo, an obvious flash used. It was part of Sarah’s summer photo dump, one he had commented a simple eye roll emoji for despite liking it. Y/N’s snooping was thorough.

“Yeah… Isn’t he cute?” Y/N asked nervously. It wasn’t that she needed her friend’s acceptance. She liked Harry either way. It would just be nice to not feel a bit off guard when she had expected a squeal back from seeing him. Harry was hot, that was no question. Even if you simply spoke to him without seeing his physical appearance, it was more than obvious he was just an attractive man in general.

“Cute isn’t the word I’d use. He’s good looking but… He’s a little scary for you, isn’t he?”

While she knew that the question was most likely an innocent one, it raised her hackles a little bit. Sure, maybe he looked a little scary. Maybe he was intimidating to most. But that didn’t have much to do with anything. “No, I don’t think so. He’s incredibly sweet and kind. He didn’t even charge me for my tattoo and tried to venmo me back his tip but he’s… He’s a little shy.” It had been apparent to her when he had told her why he had been so silent around her. “He tells awful jokes and he’s taking me to a drive-in movie this weekend because he remembered that I liked the one they’re showing. He’s really thoughtful. I know he’s got tattoos and piercings but that doesn’t mean-”

“Woah, slow your roll, Cinnamon Bun.” Julia placed her hand over Y/N’s. “I didn’t mean anything mean by it. Not at all. I’m sure that if you’re with him, he’s a nice guy.” Her face showed guilt for working Y/N up, scooting her chair closer to her. “I just mean he seems a bit intimidating. You know that I’m used to seeing you fawn over more sporty guys, the cleaner cut ones. It was just that he’s different from the norm for you, babe.”

Y/N’s wind sank and her sails dropped as she realized what her friend had meant. Of course it hadn’t been meant in malice, but she still worried. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump on you like that. I just think.. I think he’s had a lot of people assume a lot of things about him in the past and it makes me weirdly protective of him. I know I’m kind of his opposite in a lot of ways and it makes me a little insecure because I know people will definitely call it out. Your meaning isn’t bad but eventually people are going to see I don’t seem to be the normal type for him.”

That was the truth. Y/N had seen peeks of girls he had flirted with or gone off to hook up with and they didn’t exactly look like her. Not at all.

“Oh, babe. I’m sorry.” Julia sighed. “No. I didn’t mean it that way. If anyone has shit to say, fuck ‘em. I was just surprised. You’ve never been the bad boy aesthetic type but hey, if he’s nice to you that’s all that matters. As long as he knows you’ve got a miniature blonde friend who’s ready to attack ankles at any moment for hurting you and knows how to hide bodies… we’re all good.”

Y/N had let it go. Julia meant well, but this was exactly why she wanted to wait a bit to let their friend group know they were… something? Seeing each other? They hadn't even gone on a date yet so it seemed to be a stretch to say dating, but whatever it was. Not until it felt steady. They’d all worry over her and warn Harry off when in reality, all he had done in the past was be anxious and let Y/N read him wrong.

She wanted to protect him from the ribbing and the questions and let them get to know one another in a more intimate way privately. It would be something she would have to bring up to him later…. But how?

—-------------

H: Hi, gorgeous. What are you up to?

Y/N: Hi hi :) Just got done making cinnamon bread.

H: And are you bringing me a piece of that tonight?

H: Please say yes or I’ll probably cry.

Y/N: Of course, crazy. What do you take me for?

H: A goddess, if you continue bringing me baked goods.

H: But please remember that there is a snack counter there and I will be happy to buy you whatever you want from there or pick up something beforehand.

Y/N: I really can pay for some of it myself. I feel a little bad making you pay for everything, you’ve already got the tickets.

H: I’ve got the tickets and more. If I’m taking you out, I’m paying, sweetheart. Nonnegotiable. Your payment can be some of that bread, if it makes you feel better.

H: I’m just happy you said yes and are giving me a chance after I’ve made an ass of myself.

Y/N: H :( no

Y/N: You didn’t mean to make me feel bad. I internalized it and maybe you need to work on communication a bit but honestly, It’s all water under the bridge!!! I’m really really excited to go out with you.

Harry ran his hand over his face. His wrist ached from the 6 hour session the day prior but he was more than a mess of nerves now that the time for their date was almost here. He vacuumed out his car, cleaned it, sprayed with some sort of spray, and replaced the little vent air freshener. The whole thing. His range rover wasn’t ideal for this sort of thing so he had chosen his vintage convertible. The bench seat could lay back and provide more lounging space- and that’s exactly what he had wanted.

This had been his first dream purchase once he started making more money at his shop. As soon as he finished his car payments on the Range Rover, he had set his sights on a vintage car to cruise around in by himself during the warm nights, a good sound system having been modified in it so he could lose himself in thought while driving down the coastline. This car was his baby. Soft yellow exterior with a pinstripe detail, the smooth car appealed to him immediately. He’s spent months scouring sites and driving to look at different listings but this one had his heart immediately. There hadn’t been too much to change on it, but he had made his personalization with black and white fuzzy dice hanging off the rearview mirror, said sound system, and refreshed seats. The car had been his reward for the hard work and his endless backaches from being hunched over tattooing.

It had been a no brainer to choose this one but he did worry about if Y/N would think he was being overly flashy. Harry had never been one to show his money off to the masses, instead choosing to invest a lot and keep everything quiet. He’d seen some friends, seen his own clients even complain about how people used them for money and with the concept being newer to him, he wanted to be responsible. He’d read too many financial horror stories on reddit to risk it. His mates guessed he made a decent amount considering how much his minimum was and how picky he was with clients, and sure he picked up the tab a lot without saying who did it, but he tried to keep himself a bit guarded with that. He hoped that if this continued with Y/N- which god, he was praying it would- she wouldn’t be upset with him keeping that a bit of a secret.

To be honest, he was overthinking every single thing. Despite appearing cool, calm and collected in his texts, he had felt like his thoughts were running out of his head at max speed. Realistically, he knew Y/N wouldn’t have said yes if she didn’t want to. She’d have been more than justified if she had, but somehow Harry must have done something right to get the karma to have not only her forgiveness, but her affection. Even the slightest bit.

Triple checking his outfit, he had felt silly brushing his overgrown hair out of his face but still made sure that there hadn’t been some miracle stain that showed up on his tee shirt or new rip in his pants. There wasn’t, as suspected, and he finally made himself leave the house. The car had the blankets folded in the trunk, along with the two oversized pillows he had purposely chosen despite being a bit chunky. They were straight off his bed, the best ones he had ever found. The plush purple blanket was oversized, a steal from a liquidation store he went to just to feel like he could ‘treasure hunt’ was big enough to cover the seats, and he had a few different ones for Y/N to choose from in the back.

Was she a faux fur blanket girl? Linen? Crochet? Plush? Velveteen? Another obscure but endearing thing he wanted to carve out of her.

The drive to her place consisted of Lana Del Rey and the top up of the car. It was obvious it was a convertible but he was trying to keep the warm breeze as a shared experience for them both tonight. The real nerves had hit outside of her stairs, his phone dipped back in his pocket once she had told him she was on her way down. His palms were sweating, a constant reminder of himself to not fuck this up playing on a neverending loop in his head.

The world went quiet for a moment, though, once Y/N opened the door and shot him a smile so sweet that it almost hurt his own teeth.

Every time he saw Y/N he had been in awe of her beauty, but it hit a little different now. She had dressed up for the purpose of going out with him. Her lavender colored dress with slightly puffy sleeves, casual as ever with its soft looking fabric, but seeing something like that on her was bringing it to a new level. It swished on her thighs, brushing an inch or so above her knees. Sandals were on her feet and a cream colored oversized bag that resembled one he brought to the beach was hung over her shoulder, snapping against the pavement as she descended the stairs and made her way over to him.

“Hi!” She chirped, eyes sparkling slightly in the afternoon sun. Sunset would happen in just 30 or so minutes and he had to wonder how his brain would handle seeing her in a golden glow in his car. On a date with him. “You look really handsome, H.”

It was so opposite what people would assume of a man with his general outward demeanor and rough around the edges appearance. His cheeks heating and having to swallow a lump in his throat to unknot so he could reply to a simple compliment, you’d never expect it. Harry liked that maybe only Y/N would be able to uncover a part of him he kept hidden to protect himself from hurt. The iron armor he kept guarding his heart seemed to melt to molten metal when she reached up to take a hug from him. She smelled so fresh, like laundry in the best way. The warm type right out of the dryer, unsullied from any possible contaminants. She smelled brand new, a start over for him.

“You always seem to outdo yourself in how gorgeous y’look when I see you.” His guts had returned when he was hugging her, unable to see her reaction. Somehow, Harry could remain stone faced when drunk people came in demanding ink, when he’d gotten in fights at bars during that rougher period, but he couldn't control himself around a soft little doe of a girl like Y/N.

“Thank you.” She grinned, pulling back with her eyes finding his until her attention was stolen by the car behind him. “Oh my god… Is this a new car?”

Pride bloomed in his chest as she fawned over his car, one of his prized possessions that she was slightly bouncing on her toes as her hand ran over the hood. This was the reaction he had been hoping for. “Well, technically it’s an old one.” The joke was cracked with a smirk, making Y/N laugh and his chest feel full.

“No shit, funny man.” Her hand pushed his bicep. “I mean, when did you get it? I’ve never seen you drive this, just your Range Rover.”

“It’s sort of a special occasion car. Drives down the coast mostly, sometimes car meets if Niall finds one and tells me to bring it. I got it a while ago but the other car is more practical so it stays in the garage while I put the milage on the other one.” He placed a hand on the handle to open up her door, letting her take a look inside. “It’s really special to me. I try t’be careful with her.”

“Her?” Y/N rose a brow as she sat herself in the seat, wiggling around as she got comfortable. “Should I be jealous?”

Her own flirty jokes made Harry relax a tiny bit more. He wasn’t the only one feeling this, and it made him feel a whole lot better to hear it from her. “No, no. She’s got nothing on you, darling.” With a wink, he closed her door and jogged around to his side and patting himself on the back for not choking at the response he just gave.

—---

Y/N’s own body was buzzing with nerves. Sitting in this fantastic car that she knew her grandfather would absolutely lose his head over, Hozier’s ‘Abstract’ played through the radio and her hair was fluttering around as Harry drove through the streets towards the destination. The sun was warming her cheek, hand dipping up and down as she let the wind pass through her fingers. There was some chatter but mostly a silence that Y/N found to be quite comfortable. Harry wasn’t an incredibly talkative person in general but he seemed to be a lot more open when it was just the two of them. She was enjoying this, the overall energy pretty good- a bit nervous and giggly but what first date didn’t start off like that?

“How did you even find out about this?” Y/N turned to look at him as they waited in line to park his car and let them scan the code he had open on his phone. “Like, I didn’t even know there was a drive-in so close to us. I still feel like a newbie here sometimes but.. It was really thoughtful. I never thought I’d get to see this one on a big screen since it had come out before I could have watched it.”

“I remembered you liked that movie we were seeing when I was scrolling down instagram. It was weird, I knew there was one but I never interacted with anything about it so… The algorithm must have helped me out.” He laughed, running his thumb over his lower lip to hide his smile a little bit. “I know people normally would say a movie on a first date would be a little eh, but we know each other a little and it’s your favorite. It’s outside, too. Anything is ten times better under the stars.”

Y/N loved that. That was true, but for someone who had been so nervous to speak to her before he was sure as hell doing a good job finding all the soft pleasure spots in her brain and stroking them. Clicking off things on her mental list she didn’t know she had. “I’m glad it did. I’m excited, especially with a car like this, it’s incredible. You did a perfect job picking this out.” Truly, he had plucked a dream scenario from her romantic underbelly and brought it up to the surface.

“Good.” He smiled, pulling up to the person scanning their tickets. It was pay per car, so it hadn’t been too spendy, but Harry was more than going to make up for it. His relief was clearly lifted off his shoulders as she expressed her approval of his choice. He’d probably fall on down the sewer if she hated it.

Their spot was a place in the middle and towards the back. There were only about 50 spots, and they had definitely been a bit fucked with traffic but at least they werent in a corner. Cutting the car off, he took a breath before turning to her. “We’re gonna pull the top down and uh, the bench seat flattens out. So it can be easier to stretch out.” He flexed his hand around the gearshift, watching as her face brightened. “I’ve got loads of blankets in the trunk and two pillows too. M’not trying to be suggestive but it’s easier to get comfortable.” Harry wanted to make this the most memorable date- in a good way. The knowledge of the fact he knew for a fact other guys in the group fancied her and could talk to her without seeming like an ass used to make his stomach hurt, but it was such a relief to have her with him now. She was way too sweet and understanding but he adored the fact that she had particularly chosen him to go out with. Y/N wasn’t a prize, she wasn’t an object, but he felt like he was a winner for getting to spend time with her.

“Here-” He took his wallet out and slipped one of his cards out. “Go and get whatever you want for the movie and we can get proper food after.” The cool plastic was paced into her palm, his fingers closing her own around it so she didn’t drop it. “Whatever y’want and I mean it. They’ve got those chocolate bars y’like, I saw online. Buy the whole candy case if you want. I’ll get this fixed up and meet you over there to help carry it.”

Y/N wasn’t going to argue, her jello like knees shaking as she walked over to the retro shack. It was unreal. Harry had seemed to put a lot of thought into every step. His mention of knowing her favorite chocolate was there and that he’d remembered it even just having heard it in a very tipsy conversation she’d had with Charlotte with Harry ‘glaring’ at her across the table. Apparently, he had just been focusing on her answer and not wishing she would drop dead. Who’d have thought?

Rocking on her feet, Y/N looked over the menu and made her mind up pretty quickly- an absolute miracle for her- as soon as she saw the selection of drinks. Usually she wasn’t a carbonated bev type of person, but when she saw you could add little flavors into them, she was more than happy to order a sprite with strawberry flavoring. She had only been a few places where they’d done so before, so she was taking it. She went with a Root Beer for Harry and another bottle of water to split, a large popcorn and a side of the cheese sauce that she lovingly called plastic cheese like her mother always had. As much as she was tempted, she chose 3 things of candy. Sour, sweet and chocolate. The array.

Swiping his card felt a little wrong but secretly, she was happy that he had insisted. There had been many a date where the man hadn’t even offered, or who thought buying a lackluster meal meant he should have access to her body. While she didn’t need him to pay, the gesture was what she liked. Harry had been nothing but respectful once he had actually opened his mouth to talk to her.

Placing the lids on the drinks, she had placed them on the tray but frowned slightly at the idea of walking across the field balancing them and not dropping them. Thankfully she felt a large hand on her own as the tray had been swiftly taking into his grip. The tray that had seemed ginormous in her own hands looked small in his.

“Told you I’d come to help. You don't need to be carrying it.”

Again, Y/N didn’t feel like arguing as she let him lead her back to the car, his lack of clumsiness making her look twice as bad. She’d stumbled three times, the uneven terrain making it a little difficult with the dents the cars had carved into spots in the lot. Thank the sky above she had let him take it. Her mind had been on that but was taken out of thought when she saw the set up. It was so cute, Y/N almost let out a coo as she watched him place the tray on the close trunk. It had been set up like a bed, three blankets overlapping each other on top.

“Didn’t know the kind of blanket you liked so I brought a few.”

If he got any more adorable, Y/N would lose it.

“You did? That’s so sweet, H.” She whispered, slipping her shoes off as he opened the door to let her get in easier. There was no way she was about to mess up the thing he had put so much thought into. Her eyes went to the plushy one, lifting that one as Harry removed his boots. “I claim this one.”

Harry added the blanket preference to his Y/N list mentally.

“Perfect.” He nodded. “Did you want to share or do separate ones?”

The days were perfectly warm, but since the sun had been setting the cool night had been settling over the place. It got nippy, and Y/N was selfish and curious. “Sharing is fine.” She peeped, spreading it across her lap and holding it open for him. This would bring them closer. His thigh was near hers, sitting sprawled out as he carefully balanced the tray to sit in front of them.

This was just… good. Harry was obviously a little nervous still, but Y/N was laughing at his jokes, she had been interested in what he had to say. It wasn’t the fake half assed listening most people did. She asked detailed follow up questions and laughed at the right times, especially when their hands met when trying to grab some popcorn as the trailers before the move began.

They were shifting closer to one another, slowly allowing it to happen until Harry suggested laying back. The popcorn setted between them, He put a second blanket on them when he noticed her shiver slightly. Y/N was trying to figure out how to ask to cuddle with him without asking outright, but it was hard. All he was doing was being respectful but she wanted to be closer to him, wanted his arm around her and the cold to disappear. It felt like everytime they brushed that she got pleasantly flushed.

“Y’cold still?” Harry whispered, another shiver getting his attention. He didn’t need to know it was from his hand brushing the popcorn from her thigh over the blanket.

“Yeah, I run cold” She said softly. “Can we get closer? Body heat is a bit better.”

Harry loved it. Her innocent expression but obviously wanting to get closer, to be held by him specifically. “I’m never going to say no to having’ you close to me, sweetheart.”

His arm was lifted and she ducked underneath, his body turning slightly on his side so she could get close and lean into him, the blankets pulled to their chins and his hand falling to her arm where he began to run his fingers over.

Y/N wanted to squeal, but she settled for a happy little wriggle disguised as getting comfortable. He was indeed much warmer than blankets, but his fingers running over her and her cheek pressed against his shoulder with his body heat leaking through his shirt made her warm right in her stomach. His touch felt so good, comforting and exciting all at the same time. So far, this had been the best date she had ever been on and it really had just begun.

—------

Y/N was so beautiful.

Harry had been paying far too much attention to the girl curled up against him like a little kitten. Purring as he stroked her bare skin once his fingers had gone under the blanket for her. The screen illuminated her face as she watched her movie, his lips watching her lips as she silently recited lines and giggled at the right moments. He was learning a lot just watching her reactions. The yearning on her face during the softer romantic scenes, what things got little giggles, what made her cringe. How long her eyelashes were and how her nose curved, the tiny marks on her face he had never seen.

This was the type of date he had always wanted to have. To go out with a girl he genuinely liked, who saw more of him than met the eye, who wanted to get to know him. Someone who could make him loosen up a bit. He’d not had any goals for this besides having her enjoy herself and hopefully grow to like him more. Enough to give him a shot of dating her. It made him realize how his past in bed hadn’t made him feel a fraction of the excitement or even pleasure that this did. Simply sitting with a girl he had a massive crush on holding onto his shirt, watching her beauty in real time. There was no feeling of rush with her. As much as he was truly attracted to her, he was happy with this. Maybe a kiss or two would throw him over the moon. Just being in this scenario felt like a dream come true.

He was sure the movie was great, but the vision in front of him was far, far more interesting to him.

264 notes · View notes

streamingcolors-gvf · 1 year

Text

Skin Deep

Moodboard created by @jakekiszkasleftnutsack, story edited by @garbagevanfleet

Credit to @kiszkasun for providing the wonderful edits of the guys for inspo 🖤

The amazing Tattooartist!Jake moodboard created @pennylanefics that sparked this idea weeks ago 🖤

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word count: 12.3k

A/N: @asparrowofthedawn planted this idea in my brain, and I couldn’t function until I wrote it out. She’s been such a gem giving input and support throughout the week. It wouldn’t have been brought into existence if it wasn’t for her ❤️

Also, this is a smut fic with the twins, so if that is not your thing- please keep on scrolling. It’s my first one, so I’m nervous about that. Feedback and thoughts are always welcome and my inbox is open!

**Disclaimer: As someone with multiple tattoos, I tried to make this as realistic as possible. That being said, it’s not going to 100% accurate of the tattoo experience. Please don’t come for me**

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, sexually explicit material a MINORS DNI!! (Unprotected penetrative sex, oral m!receiving, oral f!recieving, fingering, biting, slapping, dirty talk, spit kink, sitophilia - food/drink play, praise kink, soft!dom, teeny bit of restraints if you squint, let me know if I missed something!)

Masterpost

You pull open the door to the shop, greeted instantly by the chime of the tiny bell that alerts the staff of your presence. Looking around, it appears to be like any standard tattoo parlor, with its walls covered completely with framed pictures of flash art and leather-covered bench seats lining the waiting area. It’s dead quiet aside from the music playing over the speakers from the back room, and there’s no one to be found.

Confused, you pull your phone out to check the time.

11:48. Lunch time.

You chew at your lip, waiting a few seconds before deciding to turn back to the exit, only to be interrupted by the sound of a man’s voice.

“Hello!”

It’s friendly and upbeat, making you spin around on your heels to find the source. With a name like, ‘The Edge of Darkness Tattoo’, your mind has conjured up some interesting characters, so you’re more than shocked when a young man walks out from behind a curtain - heavily tattooed as you’d expect - to find his place behind the counter.

His laughter is muffled into the paper napkin that he wipes across his mouth. “Sorry about that, I was just eating some of my noodles and wasn’t sure if I heard the door open.”

“Hi,” you respond, letting your nervousness shake through your voice as you take small steps forward. You’ve had a few negative experiences with tattoo artists in the past, so you’re not ready to give up the apprehension just yet. “And that’s okay. I didn’t realize what time it was. I can come back later-“

He cuts you off with a wave, and displays a warm, reassuring smile, “Don’t be ridiculous. What brings you in?”

“I-uh. I have a t-tattoo design.” You stumble over your words, but you clear your throat and start over. “I’d like to make a tattoo appointment.”

“Fantastic! I can certainly set that up for you.” He wiggles the mouse to the computer in front of him and starts tapping away at the keys. “Artist?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Did you have an artist in mind?” When he realizes you’re still a few feet away, he ushers you forward, “Come on up here! I promise I won't bite.”

You shuffle forward with nervous laughter escaping from the corners of your mouth, “I don’t know any. This is actually my first time here. My best friend was the one to recommend this place to me.”

“Perfect! I love having new clients. So, here’s what we can do. I can look at the design you brought in and then we can discuss the artist that would be the best match for what you’re looking for. Sounds good?”

A smile forms on your lips as you start falling into the rhythm of his energy. “That’s great. It’s on my phone though. Is that okay?”

“Of course! Honestly, you should see the crazy stuff that people bring in sometimes. I’m pretty sure someone doodled their idea on a Mcdonald's napkin for me once.”

Now that you’ve left your once-looming anxiety at the door, and shuffled a bit closer, you’re able to take in the details of his appearance. The sides of his hair have been buzzed, leaving his tousled curls to rest at the top of his head and down the back of his neck. His ears are exposed, showcasing the thin golden hoops in each lobe, as well as the industrial bar through the right. The sharp angle of his jawline leads your eye to the trimmed goatee on his chin and mustache framing his full lips. The vibrant floral tattoos on his neck peek out above the collar of his cream-colored crew neck with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows, allowing you to look at the artwork that filled every inch of space from his bare forearms down to his knuckles. Admittedly, you’re a bit surprised to see that his face is mostly clear from piercings other than the tiny metal hoop on the left side of his nose.

God, he’s cute. Like really cute.

You try to shove away your attraction for him by unlocking your phone and tapping on your photos icon to pull up the pictures of your design in question. Even though your shaking hands are causing you to fumble with your phone, he waits patiently for you..

“Here it is,” you mumble under your breath when you find the right picture, and you turn it around to show him.

“Wow! That’s a big piece!”

“Uh, yeah. Is that okay?”

“Fuck yeah!” He leans in closer to get a better view, blessing you with the musky scent of his cologne that’s layered with sweet notes of vanilla. You don’t even realize how close you’ve been leaning in to chase it until you smell the mint from his gum. He coos softly, coating the words with a slight raspiness, “Ooh…that’s sexy. I fucking love floral pieces like this. Where are you wanting it?”

“I was thinking about the upper thigh and hip area,” you explain, pointing to the area on your body in a general motion of your hand.

“That’s going to look fucking sick.” He reaches forward, cupping his hand around yours to get a better look at the image on your screen. You’re in denial with how flustered he’s making you, distracting yourself from the warmth of his hand on your fingers by looking up at his face. Your eyes are captured by the fond smile tugging on his lips as he zooms in and out of the picture with his index finger and thumb. “Man, as much as I would love to do this for you — and as much as I hate to say this — I think Jake might do a better job.”

You’re entranced in his aura, only mere inches away from his face, sucked into the gravitational-like pull he has. Somehow, you manage to ask in a quiet voice, “Jake? Does he do pieces like this?”

He straightens to a standing position, breaking the closeness between you. “Yeah! Well, he will fight me on it, but he tends to do more black and gray. Actually…hold on. Lemme pull out the books.” He leans down behind the counter and lifts two leather-bound books that are similar appearance to photo albums. He opens one that has “Josh” written in gold script across the front, and starts flipping through it. “See, I’m more of a lettering and bold line work guy myself. A little more color than Jake does.” He hums to himself and shrugs. “Flowers like the ones you want aren’t out of my comfort zone though.”

You are in awe of his talent as you watch him flip through each page, “I see that. It’s really beautiful work, and I’m guessing you’re Josh?”

He flashes an award-winning smile, revealing the tiny gap between his two front teeth and the dimple on his left cheek. “The one and only.”

It earns him a bashful smile and a soft giggle from your lips, creating an undeniable moment of tension between you. Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, causing your eyes to drop down to your hands while he grabs the second book to open and flip through. He’s pausing on each piece, giving you the time to study Jake’s portfolio of work. You wish you could say you were paying attention at first, but your eyes seem to act on their own, drifting up to Josh’s mouth instead. Deep in concentration and unaware of your shameless gawking, he plays with the ball of his tongue ring against his teeth and lips while flipping through each laminated page.

Your eyes never stay on the artwork for long before they flick back up to Josh, and as if the universe is playing a cruel joke, he catches you the last time. Embarrassed, you quickly avert your eyes to anything else in the room, but before you can, you catch a glimpse of the grin forming on his lips.

You’re positive a telltale blush shows on your face as a wave of heat rises from your chest, and your train of thought is completely derailed.

After sitting in a too-long moment of silence with the only sound filling the room is the pop! of his gum, he shuts the book, and clears his throat before asking, “So, what are you thinking?”

“Huh?”

An airy laugh flutters from his throat. “Which artist would you like to book with?

“Oh!” You consider your options, even if you're afraid to disappoint him by ultimately taking his initial advice. “I think I agree with you on picking Jake.”

“Solid choice. I promise I’m not offended.” He nods and shoots a playful wink. You stiffen and scramble to come up with an explanation, but he cuts you off before a word leaves your mouth, “Hey, I’m just playing with you. Relax, mama.”

The gentle touch to your arm and term of endearment makes your head spin.

“Okay. So, let’s look at his next availability. Which seems to be…hold on.” He clicks his tongue over his teeth as he scrolls on the mouse. His eyes light up and meet yours, “I think you lucked out! Looks like he has an opening next week, but it’s the last booking of the day. Is an evening appointment okay for you?

“Yeah, I think so. What time does the shop close?”

“We aim for eight depending on who’s working that day, but Jake likes to stay late and fit people in when we can.”

“Will you be here?” You blurt out the question before you can reel it back on your tongue. You’ve found a sense of comfort in his presence and taken the chance it might put your mind at ease to know the answer.

As if he can see the gears in your head turning, he adds, “I will. Don’t worry. Jake is one of the best artists here so trust me on this, but he’s also booked for the next six weeks, unfortunately. And besides, having the shop to yourself is always great, and you won’t have to stress about anyone else popping in.”

You’re beginning to understand why he’s working the front counter here; his beautiful smile and kind eyes can probably sell you anything. Hell, he could pitch an offer for the giant glass bowl filled with mints that are sitting on the counter and you’d take him up on it. You didn’t need much convincing because this tattoo has been something you’ve wanted for months and months. He just happened to whisk away any morsel of doubt that had been lingering over your head.

You hum in thought despite the fact that your mind is already made up. “That’s true…okay, let’s do it.”

He reaches out and gives your hand a tight squeeze. “Fuck yeah! Let’s get you set up.”

Josh spends the next ten minutes discussing the details of your design and quotes you on a price based on the time and space required for the piece. You fill out paperwork as he takes a deposit, reserving your appointment for the following week. He suggests emailing your ideas and images to Jake directly and hands you one of the business cards that has his information on it.

You flip the tiny rectangle-shaped cardstock in your fingers. “Could I have yours as well?”

“Sure!” He reaches over and plucks his own card from the stack and hands it to you. “If you have any questions, concerns or if something comes up and you need to reschedule, please don’t hesitate to call or text me. You can call the shop too, but good luck on getting someone to pick up.”

You giggle at the thought and start making your way toward the door. With your back pressed up against the glass, you wave with a farewell. “Thanks for everything, Josh. Guess I’ll see you next week, then.”

He gives a final smile and waves back as you push the door open. “See ya around.”

A week later you’re back in the shop thirty minutes before your scheduled appointment time. You frown when Josh isn’t standing behind the counter, but you wait for someone to greet you, checking out the selection of jewelry in the glass display case as well as the flash albums sitting on the counter. You hear the faint sound of music and footsteps coming from upstairs.

Maybe they didn’t hear me come in.

You walk towards the stairwell and call up to the second floor, “Hello?!”

A male voice echoes back, “I’ll be down in a second!”

After a few minutes, you hear the shuffling of feet coming down the creaky stairs. You see the worn black vans first before you’re greeted by the rest of the man wearing them. Once he comes into full view, he says in a friendly tone, “Hey there!”

He closes the distance between you and extends an open hand for a shake. He’s another young man like Josh, dressed in dark wash jeans that are cuffed at the ankles, and an almost entirely open chambray button-up, rolled up to the elbows to expose his tattooed arms and chest.

How many cute guys work here?

“Hey!” You offer a hand and ask, “So, you must be Jake?”

He accepts it, wrapping his other hand around yours, encapsulating it in his warmth, and flashes a smile that seems a little too familiar as he answers, “That’d be me. You’re my eight o’clock?”

You nod, making him release your hand and shift a little on his feet while he sweeps his fingers through his long chestnut brown hair. “So, uh, I’m just wrapping up some of the finishing touches on your design, but it should only be a couple more minutes.” He gestures to the stairs behind him. “You can follow me upstairs to wait on the couch… if that’s more comfortable for you?”

You suppose you are a little earlier, so the extra wait doesn’t bother you. “That sounds great!”

You follow him when he leads the way up the wooden staircase, stopping to admire all the artwork covering the narrow walls. To your surprise, the second floor opens up into a large open space. A subdued glow coming from desk lamps illuminate the room, casting everything in a brooding, gothic feel. The wood flooring brings out the richness of the emerald green painted walls, and in the center, there is a dark, studded leather sofa that matches the wall color. Framed artwork and oddities fill the space. Your eyes scan over a variety of things like flash, band posters, mounted bugs, taxidermy pieces, swords, a vast collection of records with a turntable, dried flowers, and everything in between. Looking around, there appears to be two main work areas set up in opposite corners, with the furniture breaking up the space in the middle.

Turning to you slightly, he gestures to the couch with an open hand. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. It shouldn't be longer than a few more minutes.”

You sit down, dropping your purse by your feet to settle into a more relaxed position, anticipating that you might be here for a while. You pick up one of the tattoo magazines off the coffee table and start flipping through it to pass the time. Glancing over the pages, you see Jake sitting at a desk working away on an iPad. It’s deathly quiet except the music that’s set at a low volume playing over a Bluetooth speaker.

You try not to stare, but you can’t help watching a talented artist at work. His long hair has fallen from his shoulders, causing the wavy, slightly-knotted tendrils to frame his face as he looks down at his work. You’re mesmerized by his graceful beauty, noticing little details like how his full, bottom lip pouts out from him being so hyper-focused. His hand sweeping across the screen with the pen being held between his fingers is the only thing pulling your attention. At one point, he becomes annoyed with his hair being in the way, and combs it back in a loose bun, securing it with the hair elastic that was wrapped around his middle digit. The way he's bent over, gives you a view down his chest from his shirt being so open, but you’re too far to make out any of the tattoos covering it.

When it seems like he’s about ready to finish drawing, you try to busy yourself with anything else but him, so he doesn't catch you as Josh had done a week prior. You end up scrolling aimlessly through your phone, flipping through several apps until you hear a chair being pushed out across the floor. At first, you are startled by the scraping sound of metal against wood, but the reaction shifts to excitement when you look up to see Jake walking over to you.

By the expression on his face, you can tell something is bothering him. “Sorry about that. The last guy took longer than I expected and — uh, never mind, you don’t want to hear about that.” He shakes his head, shooing away the thought. “Honestly, I really just wanted to make it perfect for you.”

“I appreciate it! And it’s okay, I didn’t mind waiting.”

He sits on the couch next to you and hands the tablet over with the design displayed on the screen. “What do you think?”

The amount of raw talent he has blows you away, exceeding every expectation you could have, like he’s plucked the vision straight from your brain. You gasp in awe, zooming in and out of every detail. “It’s so beautiful!”

A prideful smile forms on his face and he settles a few more inches, getting close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body as his leg presses up against yours. The proximity allows you to smell the teakwood notes of his cologne and the cinnamon candy that he’s rolling around in his mouth as he talks. “You sure? If there is anything you want to change, I would be more than happy to do that.”

You swear you’re able to feel his breath fan against your neck. “I think it's perfect.”

He leans in more, pointing to the different details of the design with the pen, “See, I thought that this part would be a nice touch, right?” He pats your knee before giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think it makes it unique to you.”

The way he emphasizes the last word with that low gravelly tone to his voice sends a chill through your spine. You squeak out while handing the tablet over, “I love it.”

“Okay, great. I’ll go ahead and get the stencil ready then. We can go from there to see how it fits in the spot you want.” He stands to his feet with the tablet in hand, and disappears into a hallway out of your sight, leaving you alone on the couch.

Another door on the opposite side of the room opens and closes, and a trail of footsteps follows it, growing louder and louder as they approach. You hadn’t seen Josh yet, but you weren't aware that anyone else was here in the building. You twist around on the couch and see a recognizable face presented in front of you.

He’s dressed differently tonight, wearing a white t-shirt that showcases more tattoos than before, jeans, and a pair of scuffed white vans. The things that haven’t changed are his welcoming eyes glimmering in the light when they meet yours. He chimes across the room in an upbeat voice, “Hey, you!”

“Hey, Josh.” You keep your voice light and casual, hiding the embarrassment from how he’s already making you feel.

He stops in his tracks and turns towards you with a pained expression on his face. “Okay, now I feel bad that I don’t remember your name.”

You wave him off through your giggling, “I don’t think I gave it to you.”

He rolls his eyes, albeit playfully. “That doesn’t change the fact I’m the dumbass that didn’t ask.”

You give him your name and hear it called back to you in his voice. To avoid feeling flustered like you did the last time you spoke to him, you dare to change the subject. “Ya know, you and Jake look like you could be brothers.”

He huffs a boisterous laugh, throwing his head back with a hand placed over his chest. “It’s funny you say that. We’re actually twins.”

Your mind connects all the dots, comparing their similarities and differences the second the words hit your ears. You allow a grimace to spread across your features when you realize how awkward it was for you to say they were related just now. “Oh shit, how many times a day do you hear that?”

He shrugs as walks over to the couch you’re sitting on and props his elbows on the back of the furniture. Leaning forward, he teases you with that cheeky smile, “Don’t worry, you have plenty of time to come up with original material.“

You scoff and just as you’re about to face away from him, he reaches out and taps your shoulder. “Can I tell you something?”

“Shoot.” Your heart starts racing with the possibilities running wild in your mind.

The smile on his face shifts to a nervous one and his eyes drift up to the ceiling for a few seconds before they fall back to yours. “I’ll be honest, I half-expected you to cancel tonight.”

“You thought I would wuss out?”

His eyes widened from the implication, afraid that he offended you. “No! No. Nothing like that.” He pauses, searching through his mind to find the right choice of words, “It’s…you just didn’t seem all the way committed to getting it when we talked last week. Like I was pressuring you into it or something.”

You didn’t realize you were being that obvious about it.

Your eyes drop to your hands as you pick at the cuticle on your thumb. “I guess I am a little nervous.”

“Yeah? That’s pretty normal for a big piece like this.” He shifts back on the heels of his feet and brings a hand up to his neck, rubbing the muscles, “I still get nervous sometimes.”

“I heard it was in a painful spot too?”

“Yeah, it can be with any sensitive spot and anywhere you don't have a lot of padding over bone is going to be a bitch. But don’t worry, you’re in good hands. Jake is a gentle lover.” He suddenly makes a displeased face, giving away that the last part accidentally slipped out when he forgot that you were still a client.

You control the smile that’s threatening to show on your face as you unwrap the mint that you’ve taken from the jar downstairs, popping it into your mouth, “And what about you?”

His mouth falls open, but no words come out. Instead, he decides to watch the way you roll the candy around on your tongue.

“Okay, let’s go ahead and see how these look-“ Jake’s voice echoes from the hall, but he cuts himself off once he sees you and Josh staring at each other. It only takes a second for a knowing grin to spread across his lips. “Am I interrupting something?”

Josh clears his throat and pushes himself off the edge of the couch, fighting back the smirk that’s creeping up with each passing second. “No, just chatting.”

You notice that Jake’s changed from the button-up into a comfortable black t-shirt, showing you the extensive work that covers both of his arms. He turns to face you, offering you a warm smile and a gesture of his hand over to the mirror. “Shall we?”

You leave your stuff where you are while he gathers his supplies and follows you to the full-length mirror set up along the wall.

Standing before it, you remember the area you’ve chosen for your tattoo, and ask, “Should I take off the thong too?”

You thought it was a reasonable question, but you second guess yourself when he coughs loudly. A heat of embarrassment flushes in your chest when you watch both of Jake’s brows raise as he swallows harshly, “Uh, well, no... I-I don’t think you need to do that. Just lifting the dress will be fine.”

He gathers a disposable razor and a plastic squirt bottle that’s filled with a light green solution in his gloved hands and crouches before you. You pull up your dress in your hands for him, bunching the fabric up in your fists right under the band of your bra to reveal the black lace thong you’re wearing.

“May I?” He asks softly, and you nod in approval. You feel anxious, jittery even, like every inch of your body is buzzing with nervous excitement to the point you think you’re shaking uncontrollably.

A shiver rolls through you the second the squeezes the bottle of green liquid onto your skin. “That’s cold.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, while he wipes away the soap solution that’s running down your legs with a paper towel. “Guess I should have warmed it up for you.”

You blush at the thought, watching him in the mirror while being completely transfixed by the simple action until his next question whips you back into the present.

“Is it okay if I move this strap?” You glance down to see his large, dark-chocolate brown eyes looking up at you.

“S-sure,” you mumble back when you process the fact he’s referring to your underwear.

He hooks his thumb under the lace band and lifts it over your hip bone, moving it away so it won’t get wet. The stream of water ventures further into your inner thigh and the valley of your hip. Satisfied, he begins to glide the razor in precise strokes across your leg, pressing into your skin every so often with his fingers to get a close shave. It feels wildly intimate to have him do this, even if you’re convincing yourself that it's standard for his occupation.

You peek over your shoulder to see Josh staring at you, hands folded lifelessly in his lap across the screen of his tablet. His eyes are fixated on your backside, making you realize that your ass has been on full display for him the entire time. You’re thankful that you chose to wear this set tonight, especially the panties because of the heart clasp where the straps meet in the back. His gaze climbs up the curves of your body until it finally meets your eyes. He’s far enough away, but you swear you see a blush pinkening his cheeks.

You cock your head to the side, silently calling him out. His dumbfounded expression shifts into a devilish grin, but Jake interrupts his thoughts before he can say a word.

“Hey man, could you give me a hand over here?” Jake calls out over his shoulder as he dries you off with another paper towel.

Josh stands from his chair and pads over, well, nearly skips over to you in a matter of seconds. “What’s up?”

“Can you grab that stencil for me?” Jake asks him as he peels the gloves from his hands, pointing to the table, Josh hands them to his brother and walks behind you. He flips through them, and says, “So, I blew this up to a few different sizes.”

Josh’s fingers ghost up the small of your back to collect the parts of your dress that have slipped from your hold. You catch the pitchy breath that wants to escape your lips, but you can’t suppress the arching of your back to press your ass into him.

“You like that?” He whispers inches away from your ear, sending a shudder down the length of your spine.

Jake holds up the largest stencil to your leg for you to look in the mirror, walking you through the process. “I think this one is the best because of how it fills out the space here.” He wraps his now bare, yet steady hand around your hip, pressing softly into the supple flesh to rotate you slightly. He turns his head to the mirror as the pads of his fingers graze you, trailing across the sensitive skin of your upper leg with a barely-there touch.

“Black?” Josh taunts in an amused hum, quiet enough for only you to hear, “I definitely took you for a pink or red kind of woman.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and for a moment, you worry that your knees might buckle under you as Jake goes on explaining as though Josh isn’t practically purring in your ear. “It just flows perfectly with your curves here.” He meets your gaze directly with the darkened pupils and his bottom lip tucked under his teeth, giving your hip a deliberate squeeze. “Whaddya think?”

“He’s right, y’know? Your body was made for this.”

Jake’s crooked, half-smile causes you to believe that he might have heard his brother. It’s a miracle that you haven’t melted into the cracks of the floor beneath your feet. The ability for you to concentrate on anything is thrown out the window with Josh’s warm breath cascading across the back of your neck with his twin kneeling before you, but somehow you’re able to release a shaky sigh, “I think it looks amazing.”

He nods and looks up over your shoulder. “Josh?”

Josh hums in thought as he peers over you and down at the reflection of the stencil held up to your upper thigh. “I agree with that placement. It’s gonna look fucking sick.”

He’s so close that you can feel the tip of his nose against the shell of your ear. “Might have you bend over the table so I can double-check his work from the back.”

Your face flushes with heat and you clench your thighs together in need just as Jake sets the stencil on the table. He claps his hands together in excitement with a pleased breath of laughter to himself. “Fuck yeah. That settles it then.”

You catch the cool scent from his mint when he asks, “Still need my help with your dress?”

You don’t need to respond. He already knows the answer.

Jake gloves his hands again, taking his time to clean and prepare your skin with an antiseptic soap. He proceeds to spray a solution to the area and begins the process of laying down the stencil. You’re able to keep the strap of your thong out of his way with Josh helping you hold up the back of your dress. With a careful touch, Jake presses the thin transfer paper to your skin in its chosen spot and starts smoothing it across your leg with gentle sweeps of his palms.

He slowly peels it away to reveal the dark purple outline of your design, giving you a little preview of your new tattoo. He releases a heavy sigh of relief once the paper is completely off, “We even lucked out on only having to do the stencil once.”

“Don’t miss me too much.”

Just as quickly as it all happened, it was over. You’re left standing alone, feeling flustered and in disbelief that it even happened in the first place. As you question the grip you have on your sanity, Josh saunters off back to his work desk while Jake escorts you over to the table he has prepared for you.

“Go ahead and lay down on the table here. Get as comfortable as you can, but I know that’s easier said than done on those fucking things.”

You crawl up on the Saran-wrapped vinyl furniture that resembles a large massage table. It’s padded enough, but you can tell that it’s going to cause your muscles to ache after a few hours.

Once you find a relaxed position that’s mostly laying on your left side, you lift the bottom of your dress so that it’s cleared away from your hips and legs.

Jake’s back is to you as he sets up his station, and asks over his shoulder, “What kind of music do you like?”

You blank out for a moment, forgetting everything you’ve ever listened to, which makes him chuckle under his breath. “Think about it while I get this set up. I’ll have Josh play whatever you want on the Bluetooth speaker.”

You let nervous laughter flutter from your chest. “I saw you had a record player and a collection?”

He spins around in his chair with his face lit up, beaming with enthusiasm from your observation. “We do! We use it a lot when we aren’t in the middle of a session. It just really sucks having to get up and flip it over.” He lifts his hands to show you the tight black latex covering them. “Gloves and whatnot.”

“Oh, I gotcha.”

The next ten minutes go by quickly as he explains the process to you, step-by-step. While he rambles on, you look around the spacious room as he goes onto the next steps of wrapping his work area, and machine, filling tiny ink capsules, and gathering all his supplies together.

Once he has everything laid out in front of him just the way he likes, he scoots in close and flips on the machine, firing it to life. “Ready?”

You sigh through a weak smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

He pats your leg in reassurance, “The first few lines are the worst, but it gets better…well, until the very end. Just let me know when you need a break, okay?”

You reply with a final nod.

He’s right. The needle puncturing your skin is a hot thrumming scratch as if a pissed-off bee has stung you and decided to drag its ass across your flesh. It’s painful, but not unbearable. Soon, your adrenaline and endorphins kick in, and it subsides into a dull sensation after a few minutes — just as Jake predicted. You’re thankful he doesn’t have too heavy of a hand, and that he works quickly starting from the bottom portion of your thigh.

Josh has put on the music you requested before he starts to clean up around the space, assuming it’s to close up the shop for the evening. He doesn’t hold your attention long when Jake engages in some small talk, asking you mostly about your family, friends, and work.

When your answers begin to trail off and shorten, he picks up the slack in conversation. He talks about his passions outside of tattooing, which you find out are music and cooking. You learn that he’s a confident guitar player as he tells you about the band he’s formed with his brothers, including Josh, as well as Sam, who you find out is the shop’s piercer, and that they happen to play local gigs on the weekends.

You listen to his soothing voice over the harsh buzzing roar of the tattoo machine, allowing your eyes to close as you find the calm space tucked in your mind. As the minutes turn into over an hour, it becomes harder for you to stay in that place. He checks in on you a few times, but you’re adamant to say that you’re fine and that you don’t need the break he suggests.

You’re fighting your body’s signals, struggling to stay still on the table while he works. When a low groan of discomfort escapes you, he suddenly lifts the needle away from your skin, noticing that you’re grimacing in pain with your face buried into the crook of your elbow. He taps your shin instead of bringing the machine back to your leg, and you pull your arm away now that it has become damp from your hot tears.

You prop yourself up on your elbow, and the confused look you give him makes him take a deep breath and push away from the table. He looks at you with an expression that’s filled with concern like he’s tossing around the thoughts in his head for what to say. “So, here’s what I’ll do-“ He pauses when you stiffen, but holds eye contact. “We’ll get through this outline tonight and then I think I’ll have you come back in a week or so to do the shading and color.”

Come back in a week.

A pout slips through and tugs at your bottom lip.

He laughs softly through a joke to reassure you, “No charge of course.”

“You just want an excuse to see me again,” you quip back, allowing a weak smile to break through your disappointment.

He gives a half-hearted shrug with a nod. “That might be true, but it’s clear that I’m hurting you right now.”

You try to save face with a joke of your own, “Isn’t that what they say? ‘No pain, no gain?’”

His shoulders fall and he gives you a look of defeat. “Why is it always the pretty girls that say stuff like that?” He scooches the chair on its wheels, close enough that he’s almost hovering over you. “Listen, It’s only going to get worse and I can't in good conscience — torture you for the next couple of hours just to get it all done tonight.”

You’re a little upset at yourself for giving him the impression that you can’t sit through an entire tattoo, releasing a deflated sigh from your lungs, “…Okay.”

Sensing the instant shift in your mood, he adds, “Hey, you’re doing great, okay? I do not doubt in my mind that you could power through this with no problem….but I’m also not gonna lie to you and say it’s not killing me to see you cry.” A playful smile makes an appearance when he mumbles softly, “…at least like this.”

Your jaw drops and hangs open, making him laugh and raise his hands defensively.

He straightens and huffs, “Oh I’m sorry, is Josh the only one allowed to flirt with you?”

“I heard that!”

Jake’s eyes stay locked on you as you both smile at each other, and while completely ignoring his brother, he asks, “You’re okay with that plan?”

“I guess so,” you say through a heavy sigh.

“You’re killing it.” He sets the machine down and stretches his muscles while still sitting in his chair, wincing in pain. “Although, my back is fucking killing me.”

“Because he’s a bitch that doesn’t stretch as much as he should!”

You giggle at the brotherly banter, craning your neck to look for Josh. Jake lowers himself and whispers, and you nearly moan at the feeling of his breath hitting your skin, “Don’t listen to him. He complains more than anybody here.”

“Somehow I believe it.”

“You have no idea.” The scent of cinnamon hits your nose with how close his face is to yours. He doesn’t linger long before rolling back to his position by your legs to rinse off the area. “So, let’s take a fifteen-minute break and knock out the rest of this outline.”

You were hopeful that the short break would help, but it hasn’t. Your skin is so raw and sensitive that each pass of Jake’s steady hand feels like a white-hot knife being dragged across your leg.

Your hands are balled into fists as you desperately try to find your calm, happy place deep in the folds of your mind. Despite your best efforts, whimpers of pain and discomfort start leaving your mouth more freely.

You don’t notice Josh walking up to the table until you barely hear his voice over the machine. “Nice. It’s looking great already.”

Their voices seem distorted and far away like you’re stuck in a type of lucid dream state.

“I’m trying to wrap this up for her. She’s fucking over it, poor thing.”

Josh hums in agreement. “How long?”

Jake clicks his tongue a few times, wiping over the area with a paper towel that feels like eighty-grit sandpaper. “Hmmm…I dunno, maybe thirty if she’s got it in her.”

Josh grabs a chair, settles in on its cushion, and pulls it right behind the head of the table. He gently taps your arm, getting your attention, and coos softly, “You doing okay, sweet girl?”

You nod, sniffling back the tears.

He rubs your arm that’s still draped across the middle of your face. “You’re doing great. You think you got another half an hour in you?”

“Yeah,” you answer, muffling the sound of your voice into your forearm.

“Atta girl.” You can picture the smile on his face as he says it, making your heart skip a beat.

Josh hooks his left arm under your head to hold your right arm while rubbing circles across your shoulder and down your back. At first, you flinch and lock up, making him say, “Try to relax for us, it hurts the tenser you are.”

You welcome the embrace, melting into his comforting touch. He adjusts with each deep breath you take, and you find yourself nuzzling your nose into his bicep to smell his cologne and the fresh linen scent of detergent off his t-shirt.

You feel his breath hit your temple, “You’re such a badass. It’s gonna all be worth it, I promise.”

The next thirty minutes feel like a blur thanks to Josh distracting you from the pain. Although, the way you’re melting into his body with Jake’s arms pressing against your thighs stirs a unique feeling between your legs.

“Okay,” Jake says finally, shutting off the machine. The blanket of quiet calmness that drapes over you feels like a blessing. “I think you’re done for the night.”

Josh mumbles into your hair, “You fucking did it.” He loosens his embrace and slips his arms out from you.

Jake takes extra care in rinsing off your leg with the same green solution as before and dries it with paper towels. As soon as he feels you’re cleaned up enough, he offers a bare hand. “Wanna take a look?”

You’re pulled to a sitting position with his help, and you take a minute to stretch out your stiff muscles. Your feet hit the ground like you’re a newborn baby deer, almost toppling over if it isn’t for Jake holding onto your hands. He walks you to the mirror and your jaw drops to the floor when you see your reflection.

The mixture of emotions you’re experiencing hits you like a freight train. You’re not sure whether you should cry, laugh hysterically, or stand in complete shock in front of the mirror for hours — perhaps a combination of all three.

“Holy shit! Oh my god! This is incredible!” You take a few steps closer to the mirror, turning your leg side to side to see how the new addition of ink looks on your body.

He’s standing behind you, peering over your shoulder when he asks softly, “You like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” you squeal in excitement, turning around to face him. You’re not sure what comes over you at this exact moment, it could be a mixture of desire, tension, or even fatigue with some leftover adrenaline, or maybe it's just pure attraction to him that motivates you, but you reach out and cup his face in your hands. Bringing him forward, you smash your lips into his in a more aggressive kiss than either of you anticipated. He must not have expected it from how he flinches back slightly, but only for a second before he reconnects the kiss, deepening it.

He brings his hands up to weave into the tresses of your hair and snake around to the nape of your neck. The hours of build-up from sweet praises and gentle caresses are making you feel bold, and you flick your tongue across his lip in a hungry need for more.

His full, pouted lips part without a second of hesitation, and he slips his tongue across yours. You’re both trying to be mindful of the massive, fresh tattoo on your right thigh, but your impulses take over for a few seconds longer than they should’ve. You tug him forward with a hand around his hip, and for a fleeting moment, you feel him harden beneath his jeans when he presses up against your left hip.

Jake is the one to break the kiss through a low groan, eliciting a whine of complaint from you. He doesn’t let go, however, but instead smiles against your lips, releasing a breathy laugh, “Whoa. Hold on, dove.” The pad of his thumb sweeps over your cheek as the spiced, smokiness of his breath fans across your lips, “Trust me when I say we wanna fuck you, but I need to wrap your leg up first. Can’t go destroying my best canvas, can we?”

You’re not sure if you hear him correctly, so you pull back, confused, and mumble, “W-we?”

He cocks an eyebrow and licks across his bottom lip. “Oh, I just thought Josh here was making it painfully obvious how bad he wants you.”

You glance over Jake’s shoulder to see Josh sitting in the same chair as before, now with a leg crossed over the other and his hands locked behind his head. The expression he’s wearing on his face is a smug one, and he only responds to your questioning look with a playful grin and a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

Your knees are wobbling for an entirely different reason as you walk the short path back to the table. The air is heavy to breathe, thick from the borderline-ferality between the three of you. Jake places a kiss on your lips while you lift yourself on its edge, and scoot back enough for him to wrap your leg.

The next sound you hear is the chair behind pushed out from under Josh’s legs as he stands to his feet.

He leans in on his extended arm placed behind you, and lowers himself to whisper in your ear once again. “I’m impressed. I was beginning to think you were just gonna walk right out of here after all that teasing.”

You want to say something back, but all you can do is mewl from the relief of cool water from Jake’s bottle rolling down the sides of your leg.

Josh nips the soft spot below your ear, causing you to lift your hips and clench your thighs before Jake places a firm hand on your belly. He breathes in a deeper voice that makes the wetness pool between your legs. “Are you gonna be a good girl? You’ve done such a good job for us tonight.”

He follows it with a sultry growl vibrating against the shell of your ear. “I bet that pussy is so fucking nice and wet, isn’t it? How bad do you want two cocks tonight, sweet girl?

Jake snaps at his twin, “Josh, would you cut it out? She’s squirming all over the place and I’m trying to lay this fucking Saniderm down.”

Josh huffs an irritated laugh, but behaves to the extent that he’ll settle for placing wet kisses on the path between your shoulder and your ear.

It takes all of Jake’s attention for him to apply the giant cling-wrap-like bandage to your tattoo with delicate precision. And knowing what’s about to transpire, he takes extra caution and adds a second gauze sheet over it for padding, securing it with black, medical foam tape.

Josh cheers the second Jake finishes wrapping you up, “Finally! I think it’s about time that we fucking celebrate. Wanna smoke?”

As much as you love to share a cigarette with him, you decide against it and shake your head to turn down his offer.

Without skipping a beat, Jake wheels his chair over to his work desk. “I have some whiskey that I only break out for special occasions. Want a drink instead?”

Josh places an open-mouth kiss on your neck as you are about to respond, causing the sound to come out more like a pitiful moan than a real word, “Sure.”

While his brother digs around the cabinets of his desk for the bottle of liquor, Josh walks around the table to stand in front of you, holding his open hand out for you to take, “C’mere, sweet girl.”

The staggered walk over to the couch is interrupted by Josh kissing you like he’ll never get the chance again. You can’t help but note how it’s completely different from his brother, how it’s not gentle or paced, but rather a clashing of tongues and hungry nips to your lips. It’s an insatiable type of hunger you’re not familiar with, but find that you’re craving every second of it.

He balls up the fabric of your dress and yanks it over your head in a swift motion, tossing it somewhere behind his back. He grabs a generous handful of your ass, squeezing it into his palm before sliding both hands along the curves of your body. His dull nails drag up the length of your back until his slender fingers meet the tiny clasps of your bra. With a flick of his tongue across your teeth paired with a precise pinch of his fingers, the garment is free from your chest.

He doesn't break the kiss as he guides you to the couch, laying you across the shined, leather furniture on your back. Slotting himself between your legs and propping his weight above you, the frenzied kisses finally leave your lips to trail across your jaw, to the sweet spot of your ear, and down the side of your neck. They’re wet and sloppy, touched by the warmth of his breath through each heavy pant against your tacky skin. The soft hairs of his mustache tickle you, turning you into a writhing mess as his lips explore the intricate details of your body. Acting from your desires, you hitch your left leg around his waist as he rocks his hips into you, catching his concealed erection against your lace-covered pussy. In the passion of tangled limbs, he’s still careful of your freshly tattooed leg draping off the side of the couch.

His lips graze from the hollow point of your throat, feeling the erratic beating of your heart against his mouth, down between your breasts until he wraps them around one of your bare nipples. Your hands fly up to find his face, and you let your fingers feel across the plush, buzzed hair along the sides of his head before they dive into the loose curls.

A pull of his locks between your curled fist sends a raspy groan from his mouth onto your skin with his nose pressing into the supple flesh of your breast. He laps his tongue over the sensitive bud, rolling it into the intoxicating heat of his mouth.

As much as he wants to stay here worshiping your naked chest for hours with no end in sight, he’s too impatient to finally taste you. His tongue leaves your overstimulated nipples to trail down the center of your abdomen, across your navel, and down to your left hip. He sucks a splotchy pink love mark on the thin skin, soothing the sting of it with a delicate lick of his tongue.

You couldn’t care less from the way his breath fans across your body, clinging to the wet lace of your thong between your thighs. He’s only inches away from where you want him most, and he’s making sure to keep you on edge as long as he can.

Between chasing the feeling of his mouth, and him sinking to the floor on his knees, you are now sitting upright against the back cushions of the couch. You’re in a special kind of daze, pulled under the current of your circumstances. You don’t even notice Jake’s presence until you feel his weight shifting across the leather next to you.

You watch as Josh leans back on his heels, and tugs his white t-shirt from his body. Your blurry, out-of-focus eyes start at his beautiful smile, scanning to his floral tattoos covering his neck, and down over where they connect to his chest piece where two sparrows are placed among a bed of flowers, one on each side. He takes away the chance for you to look farther down when he brings his lips to your inner thigh once again.

“I hope you didn’t forget about me, dove,” Jake croons in such a delectable voice that makes you feel like you’re vibrating from the inside out. His fingertips trace across the softness of your jaw just as Josh eases your thong carefully down your legs.

“No! No… not at all — oh my god!” You cry out the second Josh licks a languid stripe over your once-hidden clit. Somehow, you have forgotten about the existence of the piercing until he presses the tiny metal ball to your bundle of nerves, making you nearly leap in the air.

“Fucking show off,” Jake curses under his breath, causing Josh to chuckle with his face buried between your legs.

Feeding off the spark of jealousy, he guides you into a heated kiss with a hand around your neck, cupping your chin in his fingers so you feel the cool metal of his rings. It’s different from the first he had given, and as you fight in this sinful dance for dominance, it’s clear to you that he’s winning. Maybe it was meant to distract you from his brother, or maybe it’s due to the fact he’s no longer holding back like he was before.

He sucks a mark of his own beneath your ear, one that will be sure to turn a lovely shade of purple by tomorrow morning — another thing to remember him by. The sensation of Jake’s teeth raking across your throat as Josh rolls deliciously slow circles over your clit, overrides your brain’s basic functions. Every thought and every one of your senses is consumed by them, even to the point where the throbbing pain of your tattoo ceases to exist in your mind.

“Feeling a little thirsty?” Jake hums into your cheek as he caresses a middle finger from your throat and down the center of your chest.

“Mmhmm.’” The whimper you give is pathetic at best, just as he likes it.

An expert flick of Josh’s tongue makes you roll your head back and clench your thighs around his head, but the soreness in your muscles makes you wince. “Careful now, dove.”

Through your fogged vision, you peer through half-closed lids to watch Jake take a swig from the bottle. He leans in, placing his thumb on your bottom lip, signaling you to open for him. You’re eager, allowing him to spill the shot of whiskey into your waiting mouth. It burns in the best way as you swallow it down, feeling the warmth in your belly, with his palm resting around your throat. The grasp tightens right as he licks across your mouth, wiping away any of the liquor that has spilled from your swollen lips. He hovers right at your ear, sending the growl straight through you, “You do exactly as you’re told, don’t you?”

The way Josh is sucking your clit, babying it, nurturing the building orgasm in the safety of his mouth like no one has done before causes the bindings of your composure to untether without anyone there to save you.

Pleased with the sounds rattling from your chest, Jake taunts the two of you, “We can’t leave Josh out, can we?”

The mention of his name causes his eyes to open and flick up to meet yours. The lust-blown pupils are almost black with unbridled desire, abandoning that playful, rich-toffee color you admired earlier in the evening. Now that you are taking in the sight of him more clearly, you see his right hand wrapping so tightly around your leg, that his fingertips are pressing hard enough into the thickness of your thigh to leave little indentations. You’re able to make out the tattooed letters on his knuckles now that he has your focus, reading the letters, “L O V E” on each finger.

Jake brings the lip of the glass bottle to your sternum and tilts it slightly to pour the amber liquid onto your smooth skin. It drips down your belly in cascading streams, causing you to suck in a sharp gasp between your teeth from the sensation. Before you can react, Josh rushes to leave his spot on your clit, lapping up all the spilled alcohol that tries to trickle down your sides. Jake huffs an amused laugh that drapes across the sticky skin on your neck, “Another one of his party tricks.”

You’ve now brought a hand up into Josh’s hair, using the loose, messy curls as reigns. The smooth, undoubtedly-expensive bourbon mixing with the taste of you, and the way you’re yanking on his hair has flipped an internal switch. The movements of his tongue are no longer gentle and delicate, because he’s devouring you as if his life depends on it, and the lewd noises he’s creating should’ve embarrassed you if you weren’t too bothered to care.

Your eyes are clamped shut so tightly that bright splotches of color begin to burst behind your lids as the impending orgasm twists in your belly with each passing second. Jake is already taking note of the signals your body is giving, telling him that you’re close; watching how your cheeks and chest flush a vibrant pink shade, the raggedness of your breathing as your lungs ache for air, to the way you’re clawing at the top of his thigh and fabric of his shirt. Enamored by the sight of you, he leans in and bites at the tender flesh of your neck, sucking a pattern of marks over your breasts while he plays with your hardened nipples between his fingers.

Jake breathes in a sticky voice like it's coated in golden honey, “You enjoying yourself, sweet dove? I bet you taste fucking phenomenal. I gotta make sure to have you all to myself next time.”

Another pair of fingers tease around your entrance, causing a pathetic plea to rip its way from your lungs, “Josh…please!”

The teeth of his perfect smile press against you as he considers making you beg again since your voice sounds so pretty saying his name, but he decides to give in by slipping his fingers inside. The warm, wet strokes of his tongue paired with a coaxing curl of his two longest digits along your sweetest spot almost cause you to unravel in that very moment. The hard bridge of his nose is nestled right against your clit when he starts to thrash his head back and forth, not caring that you’re nearly ripping his hair out from his scalp.

It’s merciless.

The passion at which he throws you into the wall of your first orgasm is unprecedented. You could have been coming for three seconds or three hours on his tongue, but it made no difference in the end. You might’ve even blacked out, but you’re not entirely sure about that either. He stays there, regardless, with a clamped hand around your leg, licking you up until the point where overstimulation starts to take over.

When you finally regain the ability to open your eyes, you look down to see him smiling at you with the bottom half of his face drenched in your arousal. The shine on his lips glistens in the light, and it almost makes you sad when he starts to wipe it away with his hand.

“Now it’s my turn to play,” Jake declares into the humid air as he starts to shift his position on the couch.

You shake your head, and before he can ask why, you place your hands firmly on his chest and push him back toward the arm of the couch. He tumbles on his back, taking you with him. He doesn’t complain nor resist in the slightest from you taking charge. Returning the favor, you lick and bite your way down the vulnerable skin of his throat, feeling his adam’s apple move beneath your lips. Kissing your way along his jawline to his ear, you roll the silver hoop decorating his lobe along your tongue. He grabs you by the waist, rocking you over his lap while a whiny moan from him echoes in the room.

Breaking away from his neck, you sit back on his thighs and start pulling the embossed leather strap through the large buckle, trying your best not to get distracted by the outline of his cock hidden beneath the dark-wash jeans.

You whip the belt through the loops with an aggressive yank of your wrist and toss it somewhere across the wooden floor, hearing the metal clank against its surface. Once his jeans are unbuttoned, you slip your hand beneath the denim as well as the cotton of his boxer briefs. The exposed band of stomach showing beneath the bottom of his shirt quivers from your gentle touch. Your fingertips run around the warmth of his body, passing over the trimmed hair beneath his waist until you feel the suede-soft skin of his cock. You glance up to see his eyes fixed on your hand as tiny puffs of air leave his open mouth. There isn’t much room for your hand to move in his pant leg as you reach farther down, but you’re shocked by his length when you feel only him. Through an arguably smug laugh, he lifts and helps push his pants down enough that you’re able to release him from the restriction of his clothing.

With the sheer weight and size of him in your hand, you can’t help your eyes from widening in unfiltered awe. You begin stroking him, watching the beads of precome leak out and catch the light as they drip down. You settle on the couch, lowering your body across his legs in a more comfortable position.

Right as you’re about to bring the head of Jake’s cock to your waiting lips, you catch the sight of Josh walking past you with the zipper of his jeans opened, stroking himself in lazy pumps of his hand. He doesn’t let your eyes linger more than a second or two before he’s out of your line of vision.

I guess they really are twins.

Jake’s fingers sweep the fallen hair from your face to get a better look at you. You look up through your lashes just as you flick your pointed tongue along the underside of his length, watching as his eyes roll back behind his heavy lids.

It might be your only chance of the night, so you jump on the opportunity to tease him. The combination of barely-there brushes of your lips and kitten-licks of a soft tongue is making him shift and squirm beneath you. It’s obvious he’s fighting the urge to take control as his fingers fidget on his lap in building anticipation for what’s to come.

“Come on, dove. You know I’ve been thinking about those pretty lips wrapped around me all night.” His voice is thick, laden with pure eroticism.

The confession disguised as a praise sends a wave of aching need for more. Without wasting another second, you guide him along your flattened tongue, swirling it around every inch of his length. Adjusting to how he fills your mouth, you bob your head slowly with your hand stroking what your lips can’t reach.

Your attention is drawn away from Jake when you feel the weight of Josh’s knee pressing into the leather as he climbs on the couch behind you, but you still don’t stop the movements of your head. His fingertips are the first thing to touch you, making your back arch from the feeling. They dance across your spine, tracing down the finer details which causes a pitched moan to vibrate around Jake as he nudges the back of your throat. A firm hand kneads your ass, and you swear you can hear his breathing start to quicken over the sound of Jake’s.

You’re startled when his open palm cracks against it from a forceful slap without warning. It stings as the blood rushes to the surface to leave a reddened print, making you clench your thighs together.

It’s when those fingers roll over your overstimulated clit, that you gasp, gagging on Jake’s cock. The sound and feeling cause a curse to slip from his parted mouth, followed it a loud groan, “Fuck! That dirty little mouth of yours.”

If the tears welling in your eyes that coated your lashes didn’t cloud your vision, you would be able to see Jake’s head whipping forward with his thick brows pinched together when he pushes your head down on him.

With his hand wrapped around the thick base of himself, Josh taps the head teasingly on the swell of your ass a few times. You wiggle your hips, chasing him as he inches closer and closer before his twin takes notice of his intentions.

Annoyed with him, Jake scoffs, “Why do you get to fuck her first?”

Josh huffs a dry laugh, quipping back, “Because I do everything first, you prick. I’m five minutes older.”

“That’s a stupid fucking rea-Ah! Oh, fuck!” A certain lick of your tongue as you ignore their banter causes him to grunt the curses mid-sentence, stopping the thought in its tracks. He pauses to collect himself, gripping your hand as he warns through shallow breaths, “Slow down, baby, or else you’re gonna make me cum soon.”

Josh takes the cue and glides himself into your pussy with a deliberate push of his hips. A ragged, borderline-primal growl rips from the back of his throat the second he bottoms out. The position of his hands slips from your hips down to your waist with a roll of his body with his cock buried deep inside.

He whines, succumbing to throes of pleasure already, “Oh my — fuck! Fuck, you feel so so good, baby.”

The feeling elicits a similar reaction from you, making you crane your neck so you can watch him slowly retreat from you. His eyes are fixed down at himself being coated with you, slick from your arousal. The unhurried push back into you causes his eyelids to flutter closed. The lean muscles of his abdomen, ones hidden beneath the tattooed skin, flex, and twitch with each stroke. The image of the two large roses on each of his hips, placed on the curvature of his slender stomach, snags your attention the longest before Jake’s fingers hook your chin.

The slow, subtle grinding of his hips transforms into powerful thrusts, knocking the air from your lungs and causing Jake to slip from your mouth. With your face resting on the softness of his tummy, the strokes of your hand are listless at best. Your cries mix with the distinct sounds each time Josh’s ink-decorated thighs connect with your ass. The broken phrases from him are incoherent, but by the way his movements are starting to stagger in rhythm, he’s closer than you expect.

Suddenly, with his hand gripped tightly around your waist, he pulls himself from you. You might have complained about the empty feeling you’re left with if you didn’t feel his knuckles brush across your skin with each frantic stroke of his loose fist. His trimmed nails scratch along the small of your back as he falters through a violent shudder, and spills his warm release over the curve of your ass with a breathy string of curses tumbling from his lips.

Breaking the silence between you, Josh mutters in a strained voice as he pats the other cheek, “Don’t move.”

He stands to his feet, collecting himself through steady breathing as he walks across the room completely naked without a care in the world. Jake takes the moment to tip your chin up and lean down to place his lips to yours, persuading you into a sensual kiss. You don’t dare move an inch as you feel Josh’s release dripping down the back of your leg. Thankfully, he returns within the minute, bringing a warm, damp towel to clean you with.

After his brother is done taking care of you, Jake bolts upright on his knees, sending you crashing into Josh’s chest, pinning his brother beneath you against the opposite arm of the couch.

You erupt into a fit of giggles as Josh curses from the new position you’re both in. You’re wearing an expression of shock, but Jake only reciprocates with an amused raise of his left brow. “You really thought I was gonna be patient all night?”

Just as Josh had done minutes beforehand, Jake reaches back between his shoulder blades, and rips his black t-shirt off, throwing it somewhere onto the floor into a crumpled pile.

It’s the first time you’re able to see his bare torso so close to your face. Even so, your eyes can’t seem to focus on one thing in particular with the lack of lighting, but what you’re able to see is the distinct outline of a skull with a sword through it in the center of his chest, surrounded by roses and plumes of smoke. It would take you hours of tracing over every line, every inch of the art-covered skin to fully appreciate it all.

He looks above you, locking eyes with his twin through a silent exchange as if they communicated in an unspoken language. Josh hums in approval, and rubs his hands down the length of your arms before wrapping his long fingers around your wrists. He lifts your hands, and folds them over each other to pin them both behind your head.

Jake’s eyes find yours for a second, and you swear you can see darkness swirl within the irises like the unforgiving waters of a rough, uncharted sea. His gaze floats down from your face, pausing on your rising and falling chest before it eventually settles between your legs. He wraps his arm around your left thigh, leaving your right untouched, and pulls you up onto the tops of his legs.

He slips the head of his cock over your clit, causing it to shine in your wetness. With a nudge of his fingers at his base, he guides himself in a teasingly slow pace down to your entrance. You’re impatient and desperate, lifting your hips to take him in. He bites his lip through his intense focus, finding that he doesn’t even have to push, and lets the release of your muscles do the work for him. He slides in effortlessly, stretching you inch-by-inch to the hilt. You both exhale through a strangled gasp, and he stills for a minute, feeling the tightness of your walls clench around him.

His eyes close just as his head rolls forward with a breathless laugh escaping his chest, “I fucking hate when he’s right, but oh my god your pussy is incredible.”

Josh sings into the tresses of your hair, “Like heaven.”

The skull on his hand stares back at you when he places his palm on your belly while he thrusts deep and slow in each calculated roll of his hips. The added pressure on your stomach as the head of his cock brushes against the special spot with the pad of his thumb rubbing over your clit drags you off the edge into your second orgasm.

Your upper arms ache as they strain through each flexing muscle you have to endure. It seems rather inconsequential because you don’t even feel like you're present with your physical body with time itself feeling irrelevant. Sounds become muffled like you’ve stuffed balls of cotton into them, even if at one point you’re sure you were screaming.

Jake’s not far away from that place himself, catching up quickly as he rides through the crashing waves of your climax. You wish to have each sway of his tangled hair or how a thin sheen of sweat has coated his body burned into your memory.

You can see the internal battle he’s fighting with his temptations from the look in his eyes that are hidden behind his furrowed brows. He hisses through clenched teeth when reluctantly pulls out from you, and because of the timing, it doesn’t even take a full stroke of his hand before the ropes of his warm come splatter across your stomach. You flinch at the feeling, and Josh releases his hold around your wrists so you can relax them by your sides.

The three of you take the following minutes to come down from the collective high as your breathing starts to calm down to a normal level. No one has said anything for a while, so you decide that you’ll be the one to break the tension first, “So… do you take credit cards?”

Josh barks out a hoarse laugh, “Shut the fuck up.”

Jake adds to the laughter, and runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He slowly maneuvers off the couch to a standing position beside you. “I think it’s safe to say this one might be on the house.”

Tucking himself back in his jeans while simultaneously looking for the washcloth, he turns to his brother and instructs, “Josh, go ahead and disinfect this couch again.”

Josh groans in annoyance while falling back against the arm of the couch, pushing his sweaty curls from his forehead.

You’re given a new towel to wipe the evidence from your stomach as Jake collects your dress and underwear off the floor and hands them to you. “Here, dove. The bathroom is down the hall and to your left if you want to clean up a bit.” He then looks to Josh, addressing him directly, “Let’s lock up so we can get her back home for round two.”

You feel like you’re weightless, floating across the room, and only making it halfway to the bathroom when you hear Josh blurt out, “Round two?!”

I think we have something here.

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