#its been a ride and now its come to an end

[zozo-01]

"my daddy gone for the weekend, so saturday baby we can get to freakin'."

It's here! After four-ish months, the smut is done! It took everything from me but I'm super proud of how this turned out! A huge shoutout to @dominimoonbeam for giving my the original idea, and my sincerest gratitude to everyone whom I lamented to, especially @gingerbreadmonsters, @lovelylonerliterature and @cashandprizes for making sure I wasn't making a fool of myself!

CW: University AU, David is a Business Major, Darlin' is a Poli Sci Major, No Angel and Sam AU, Unresolved Sexual Tension, leading to, Resolved Sexual Tension, they are stupid and in love, Top/Bottom Roles, First Time, Loss of Virginity, its david he's the virgin, Oral Sex, Riding, Grinding, david is a praise whore, they are horny young adults, Gender-Neutral Darlin', Jealousy, Angst and Fluff and Smut, David Shaw is Bad at Feelings, so is darlin', author is incapable of not being emotional, Minors Do Not Interact!!!!

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click here for the playlist made by @floofdeloop!!!

--

There wasn't a moment that went by where he didn't think of Darlin' promise. Even if he tried, the piercing on his tongue was a physical reminder that he couldn't get rid of.

Well, he technically could. Didn't mean he wanted to.

It was odd having a piercing at first, especially in such a weird place. He had to stop himself from playing with the piercing and pulling it out. While he would love to have Darlin' in his lap again to re-pierce his tongue, the pain was absolutely not worth it.

The reactions he got once he showed it off, on the other hand, were extremely worth it. No one could believe that goody-two-shoes David would get a piercing. A tongue piercing of all things. Milo and Asher had a ball when they found it, and they lost it when David revealed it was Darlin' who did it for him.

–

"I know Darlin' is into 'bad boys', but I never thought you would change for them," Asher cackled while lying upside down on his couch. 

David knew that this was a mistake. He should have kept that part a little secret, but no. He falsely assumed that his best friends would have been mature about it. He'd been a fool to put trust in those two. 

Milo, to his credit, didn't fall onto the floor laughing the way Asher did, but even he couldn't stop himself from teasing the larger wolf. "Next thing ya know, he's pullin' up with a damn sleeve like that one guy they brought-" He cut himself off to narrowly miss the pillow David threw. "Hey! Watch where you're throwin' big guy!"

Ignoring Milo, David sat beside Asher on the couch, putting his head in his hands out of frustration. Sure, Darlin' had a specific type of people that they liked, the unsavoury the better according to them. And sure, he couldn't help but compare himself to their past partners. But that didn't mean he didn't want to change himself for them! He had a well-adjusted head on his shoulders, and he knows it's foolish to change yourself for a person.

But if it did make Darlin' like him…

A soft flick to his forehead brought him out of his thoughts. Looking up at his friends, he saw his fellow pack members looking at him with what he could describe as an "are you stupid" look.

"Look we get it," Asher spoke up, moving into his role as voice of reason. "You like them, and I mean this in the best way, you don't look like their type. I know you're smarter than to change your whole self for one person, but seriously. If they don't like you now, they won't like you when you're closer to 'their type.'"

"Besides," Milo added while sitting next to David. "All this is assumin' that they don't like you. Who knows big man, maybe they do."

(Milo tried not to give too much away, for fear of his own life, but come on! Seeing David slumped over like a puppy made him feel bad for the man. It's even worse knowing that Darlin' does like him, but both of them are so emotionally inept that it will take the world ending for them to confess, and even then, one of them will be convinced that the other doesn't really love them. If he has to spend another minute hearing Darlin' lamenting about how David is too good for him, then he'll find a telepath to share their thoughts with each other.)

(And the worst part is that even that might not be enough to break this stalemate.)

–

David eyed the clock in his living room while vacuuming the floor. They would be here in about an hour, and knowing them, they'd probably arrive even earlier than that. All the more reason for him to finish cleaning the house as soon as humanly possible. Lucky for him, he wasn't exactly human.

He, in his naivety, decided to take some political science courses that semester. It made sense, nothing goes better together than politics and business, and with the way his professors stressed the connections between the two fields, it was only a matter of time before David wanted to learn more. He's already required to learn about corporate-related laws. Why not learn all the other types of laws? 

The answer to that question is that political science was a dreadful field of study, filled with jargon and old men with pessimistic views of the world. David had always been a numbers guy, and now you're telling him that he had to write essays? The absolute sheer horror.

There were some bright sides, though. Not as bright as their smile, let's not get ahead of ourselves. He sighed, mind eternally consumed with their being and he wouldn't have it any other way.

After seeing his struggle to write down a coherent thought without going on a tangent, Darlin' decided to help his poor soul to write his final paper for their public policy class. It was no issue, they insisted, having already finished their essay a week in advance. When they put their mind to it, Darlin' could do anything. It was what he admired most about them.

The doorbell rang, cutting off David's thoughts. He looked over the room one last time and with a satisfied hum, he walked over to the door.

Behind the door stood Darlin', a dazzling smile on their lips and food in their hands. "With Gabe out of town, I had a feeling that you haven't had good food in a hot minute." Walking right in and going straight to the kitchen, they put the styrofoam box on the dining table. 

He closed the door and followed them, mouth-watering and stomach rumbling at the smell of the shawarma platter on the table. They were right in assuming that he hadn't eaten much since his father left for his work trip. Gabe did make a large batch of food so that he didn't rely solely on fast food. Yet even after taking into account his large appetite, David was out of food within a few days. And fast food couldn't dare compete with his father's cooking.

"Yeah, well he should've made more for me." he joked, taking his school bag and sitting on the couch. "Seriously, thank you for helping me out with the essay, you're a god send."

"It's no biggie, Davey," they replied, sitting right beside him and taking out their notes. "Essays like these ain't that hard once you do a couple of them," Darlin' smirked and he already knew that they were preparing to tease him. "I know that's too much thinking for our little business major-"

David didn't give them a chance to continue, tackling them onto the couch. With a pillow in his hands, he smothered their face with enough pressure to keep their mouth closed without suffocating them.

"Alright, you little shit, if you're done making fun of me, how about we get back to this goddamn essay." An eye roll and nod were what he needed to back off, taking the pillow off of their face. But still straddling their hips, he refused to move unless Darlin' asked him to.

There was a moment where they locked eyes. His heart was beating faster as he hoped that maybe they wanted this as much as he did. Maybe he can delude himself into thinking that there was want and lust in Darlin's eyes. Though it was more likely that their eyes were only a reflection of what he desired.

He snapped back to reality when Darlin' cleared their throat. "Can't really help you with your essay from down here, David," they chuckled nervously. He nodded, taking that as his cue to reluctantly get off of them. He grabbed his laptop, opening up his readings for this essay.

Darlin' opened up their essay, and he saw the different coloured highlights on the document. Probably the different parts and ideas he needs to cover for his assignment. "When you do a public policy essay, you need to analyze it based on the goals of the policy, instruments used to enact it and the setting it's used in…"

It was a lot of information to take in, the jargon and language didn't make it any easier to understand what the fuck was being said. Seriously, why do you need ten different terms to describe the same phenomenon? At least the business jargon didn't do that, it only had five different names for the same thing.

Whenever David felt like he couldn't continue, too tired to come up with more ideas to write down, he would take a sneaky look at Darlin'. Eyes lighting up and mouth spilling out a plethora of ideas of how to make the world better, it was clear why they were the right fit for this program. A part of them was determined to help everyone, from the broken to the damn. If they could even save one person, alter their life to make a positive impact, then they would do anything to make it happen.

The problem arose when Darlin' would try to save those who didn't ask for it, or worse, those who would take advantage of it. Bless their bleeding heart, but they were incapable of turning away a lost cause. "I was a lost cause once, so who the fuck am I to turn someone away from my door," they would say to anyone who would raise their concerns. David could recall every single time that Gabe and their parents would have to stop them from being a self-sacrificial martyr, and yet when Darlin' found something or someone to save, there was no stopping them.

And even though he knows that Darlin' is a grown adult who can take care of themselves, that doesn't stop the need to keep them safe. Preferably with him. So if someone who was taking advantage of their kindness turned the corner and left with a broken nose, then he's not saying that he did it. Not always, at least.

After all this introspection about Darlin', his feelings for them and this free speech policy, David put his final thoughts onto his page. Five hours and one thousand, five hundred and fifty-five words later, he was done with this godforsaken essay. Yippee for him, someone should plan him a parade!

Darlin' took a quick look over the essay for any logical and grammatical errors. They gave him the all-clear and he was on his way to hand in the essay. He was so focused on giving in his assignment that he didn't notice Darlin' getting up to grab the shawarma platter.

"Here," they said, sitting next to him and offering the platter to him, "you need all the food you can get." Darlin' didn't wait for a response before placing the food in his lap before turning back to do some more work.

He quietly ate his food, not wanting to break Darlin's concentration on whatever extra assignments they had to do. Their furrowed brows and jutted lip was endearing to him, just wanted to kiss their pout away.

"That reminds me!" They exclaimed, looking back at him, eyes shifting between his mouth and eyes. "How did your piercing heal? I'm thinking nothing went wrong if you haven't called me about anything?" The elephant in the room, or at least for him, was finally being addressed.

"Yeah, it's been great! I really like how it turned out." It was true, never in his life did he think that he'd be the piercing type. He knows that corporate culture was very finicky about what is and isn't appropriate, and he'd never been interested in any kind of body modification. But this piercing was the gateway drug into him exploring the various different ways he can express himself. Maybe he'll get that tattoo sleeve he's been eyeing on the internet? Or a couple of snake bites? (Didn't the last guy have those?)

But as long as Darlin' was next to him, helping him along the journey of self-expression, then bring on any challenge and needles that may come his way!

Scooching a little closer to them and putting a hand over theirs, his eyes softened as his voice became more genuine. "You did an amazing job, Darlin'. Thank you for doing it for me." 

They cleared their throat and looked into their lap. "Ahh, you know, it's no big deal, I'm just glad I can help." It was cute seeing the normally cool and confident Darlin' crumbling at the sound of genuine praise. The small and shy smile was all he needed, the satisfaction that he had the same effect on them that they did on him.

He tensed up when they leaned closer, their hand holding his shoulder as they used it as support. "Can I take a look, David? Just to make sure nothing's at risk of anything." They only moved when he nodded, hand moving from his shoulder to cupping his jaw.

David opened his mouth, all of a sudden conscious of any food that might be stuck in between his teeth or metal piercing. He hoped there was nothing left behind, internally cringing at the gross sight. Luckily for him, they didn't seem to be taken aback by anything in his mouth.

They hummed in approval, letting go of his chin and walked to the kitchen. "It looks good. No infection and little scarring, and you seem to be getting used to it." They grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the fridge, handing one to David and uncapping their own.

He took a few sips of his water, swishing it around to get rid of any extra food scraps in his mouth. Even if they didn't say anything, it didn't hurt to make extra sure in case they wanted to kiss him.

As that thought went through his head, his blood went hot. The thought of kissing him reminded him of the promise they made him. That they would let him test out, for lack of confidence to call it what it was, with them. Palms sweaty and knees weak, he debated on whether or not he should remind them.

On one hand, if they dismiss him, this could be the most embarrassing moment of his life. He's always wanted to move to Alaska, they have beautiful weather during this time of year.

Or… he'll get to sleep with Darlin'… even something more.

(At this point, the opportunity cost of each scenario was going through his brain. Trying to find the tradeoff value as well as the line of best fit in order to benefit both himself and Darlin'. If this doesn't make sense, then congratulations on not having the displeasure to take any Introductory to Economics class.)

"Do you remember what I said when I gave you that piercing?" they asked with caution, using the tone they use when they're ready to pull away from a conversation if they don't like his answer. It was frustrating, knowing that they were creating an exit plan without letting him give his answer. But all he could do was reassure them that he wouldn't leave, and he hoped in return, they promise the same.

Calming his beating heart, he replied to Darlin's question. "Yeah, what about it?" He hoped that his even tone didn't give away how desperate he was, borderline ready to throw himself at their feet and beg for their attention.

"Well…" They folded their arms around their back as their voice went deeper. "Do you want to test it out?" He wondered if their lack of shyness or embarrassment was a testament to how much they did not care. His stomach dropped at the thought of them only seeing this as a means of getting off. 

But it's better to have fucked than to never be loved at all, or something like that.

He crossed his arms, hoping that they could guard his fragile heart. "I'm down for it if you are," he stated without the overbearing emotion that had his heart in a vice grip. His stomach dropped into the abyss and the pressure building in his head had him questioning how long he could keep this facade up. 

David had never met someone so willing to throw themselves into any situation the same way that Darlin' does. A certain confidence and apathy guided and protected them going through their life, and he wonders if this was another example of it. If only he could hold himself high above the clouds the way they do.

He stood his ground with stiff muscles while watching Darlin' saunter on over to him. The smell of cigarette smoke and coconut engulfed his senses (was he also smelling mangos?), leaving him no choice but to hyper-focus on them. He watched as they put a hand on his waist, light to the touch and with caution in their eyes. Always waiting for the nod to continue.

"Can I continue, David?" they asked with the care they seldom reserved for themself. It was frustrating to watch them wear their heart down till there was no love left for them.

He nodded his head, breathing heavily and mentally begging them to do more, but they stood still. A nod was simply not a good enough answer for Darlin'. 

They tilted his head with their hand, looking straight into his eyes. "Words, Davey. I ain't moving till you say the magic word," they purred. It was all the encouragement he needed to let out a breathless 'yes' for their hand to pull him closer by his neck into a kiss.

It was painfully soft, not due to lack of passion, but because Darlin' was still treating him like a porcelain doll. He hated it, absolutely despised the fact that he wasn't being treated like the other people he'd seen them kiss. He didn't want to be special, he wanted to be treated like everyone else. 

(Scared and anxious is how Darlin' went through life. If an action wasn't thought through entirely, then it wasn't worth taking. They still weren't sure if David wanted to kiss them because he liked them or for other reasons, like wanting the brag about fucking them. Whatever his reason may be, they still wanted to test the waters with him. It was better to be safe than sorry, and with him, they wanted to keep him as safe as possible.)

(He isn't like the other people they kissed. He's so much more and they hope it won't break either of them in the long term.)

He followed their lips as they pulled away from him, desperation filling his body for their kiss, worsened by the sweet scent around him. He was scared that maybe they were coming to their senses and that he'd lose his only chance to kiss them.

Lust and love took control of his body and he pulled Darlin' back into him. He sighed when their lips touched his, smirking at the surprised whine that they let out. Wrapping his arm around their waist and a hand on their back, he was going to make sure they'd never leave him again.

He pushed Darlin’ against the pool table, hands on either side of their body, leaning in until his lips were barely touching theirs. Darlin's eyes grew wide as he closed in on them, stopping only when they were a breath apart. Their bravado slowly fell apart, breath quickening with each passing moment. As fun as their teasing was, David couldn't help but enjoy how he'd managed to turn the tables, even if only for a brief moment. 

Darlin' snapped out of their daze, hands beginning to wander once they regained their bearings. They started at his hips, moving up his sides before pressing warm palms against even warmer skin. They paid close attention to what made his breath hitch, their eyes seeming to commit everything to memory. He hoped it wasn't in vain. 

Adjusting their hands, they used their thumbs to press against his nipples experimentally, enjoying the groan their touch pulled from deep in his throat. He pressed them harder into the table as a breathless laugh escaped them. 

"How about a nipple piercing the next time? Play your cards right and I might be nice and do them both," they said with a smile and a playful gleam in their eyes.

David chuckled, with his eyes darkening. He leaned in, hovering his lips over their ear. “Maybe, but right now I want to test out another piercing.” He licked the shell of their ear, blowing on it to make them shiver. He adored the way their body opened up against him, leaning their head back to expose more of them to his mercy.

He kissed their lips, soft and playful, wanting to get them back for earlier. They gave him a warning growl, giving him a chance to kiss them properly and end this game. David didn't hedge, instead teasing them with another peck that had another growl tearing from their throat. 

His amusement was short-lived when he felt a hand around his neck, squeezing firmly and pulling him in close. His head spun deliciously the longer they deprived him of the ability to breathe.

David leaned back, looking at them with pleading eyes. Being choked was never a kink he thought he would have, but he hopes Darlin’ keeps their hands on his neck for the rest of the night. They tilted his head to the side with the hand on his chin, like they were inspecting something. The air was thick under their suffocating gaze, and David felt the wind knocked out of him. The way their eyes were locked on had him wondering what they were looking for. Maybe they were looking for any sign that the piercing may have infected him.

 He swallowed, a stupid thought running through his head. Maybe they were looking for any sign that anyone else left a mark on him? He had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. Do they really think David would fuck around with other people, especially when he finally had the chance to be marked by him? And even if he did, he would never let them mark his neck.

That honour was reserved for them, and them alone.

With a stern tone, Darlin’ asked David, “Are you going to keep fucking around, or are you going to kiss me properly?” He had no choice but to nod his head, completely enamoured with their voice.

They smirk, their grip on his throat loosening as their fingers slowly trace a path to the back of his neck to settle there instead. Then they pushed, forcing him closer until their lips were pressed against his ear. 

“Good boy, David.” 

The sound went through his ears and shot straight down to his cock.

Huh, for someone who’s as much of a control freak as he is, he’s surprised that he would relinquish control to Darlin’ that quickly. He’s even more surprised that it feels good to not be in control for once in his life.

“Mmmm, my oh my, what sharp teeth you have Mr. Shaw,” they purred, crashing their mouth onto his, running their tongue over his canines and sucking on his piercing. There wasn’t much David could do except groaning, too overwhelmed with the sensations he was feeling. “Whatever would you do with them?” Their alluring eyes and shit-eating grin rekindled the fire within him to get back at them.

This was it. This was David's chance to finally get back at Darlin' for every heated glance and flirty remark they had subjected him to over the years. Memories of every fleeting touch and teasing uptick of perfect lips spurred him on in his goal of returning the favour to them tenfold.

(Part of David also wanted to get back at Darlin’ for making him fall in love with them. For raising his hopes whenever they gave him their adoration and genuine smiles only to take someone else to their bed. It was stupid and selfish and childish but he didn’t care. He wanted them and this was the closest way to have them.) 

(If only he knew that they loved him as much as he did them. If only they would bare their hearts to each other, being honest to themselves and their desires for once in their lives.)

Trying to gain back some control and doing what he thought would make them feel good, he grabbed their ass and moved their hips against his. His pants were getting tighter with every moan that left their mouth. It was pure music to his ears and he was determined to draw out more sounds from them. He grabbed their thighs and picked them up, placing them on the pool table. 

He chuckled when Darlin’ let out a surprised yelp and continued to grind into their crotch. “You like my teeth, beautiful? Want to see what I can do with them?” 

He bared his teeth against their skin, making sure they could feel each one of his teeth and that the mark left behind would stay for the rest of their shared lives. Their enthusiastic nods were enough to give him the confidence needed to leave their lips and kiss other areas of their body.

He kissed down from their jaw to their neck, leaving soft kisses and sucking on their skin. Darlin’ shuddered and sighed, burying their fingers in his hair. Relishing the reaction that he was getting from them, he gently bit their neck. It wasn’t enough to bruise, but it was pleasurable if Darlin’s increased volume was anything to go by. Darlin' pulled him closer, moaning and whispering in his ear, “Oh, you can be rougher than that, sugar.” 

There was just one small issue.

He didn’t know how.

For all of his cockiness and initiative that he took tonight, it didn’t change the fact that he was a virgin and this was the most he'd ever fooled around with another person.

It wasn’t like David was actively avoiding sex, he just never found the time to form sexual relationships with someone. Between his classes, extracurriculars, work and looking for internships, losing his virginity had always been put on the back burner. Besides, he never found the right person to lose it with. Any time he’d muster up the courage, the little doubts in his brain would creep into his brain, and make him back down. 

Confidence can only get a man so far, and he realized with their hand in his hair and legs wrapped around his waist that maybe he bit off more than he could chew. 

He didn't realize that they paused when he did. They noticed that his hands had stopped moving and his lips stayed still. Moving both hands from his hair, they cupped his cheek and placed his forehead on theirs.

 “Hey, you still with me?” They asked with a soft tone and looked straight into his eyes. 

There was nothing but care and warmth in them. He wasn’t expecting anything else though. This was Darlin’, warm and caring to the bone and forever willing to share it with others. Even at their own detriment.

They caressed his cheek to try and ground him in reality. “We can stop, you know.” 

Gently, Darlin’ pushed David back, giving him the space he didn’t need to breathe. “I know you still haven't fucked with anyone like this, and I know it can be a lot.” They smiled, but David could sense some disappointment from them. “We can stop at any point you want.”

“But what about you?” he asked, always wanting to make sure that their needs would also be taken care of.

Their soft demeanour morphed back into the cocky, yet not over-confident attitude that he was accustomed to. How Darlin’ could shift between personas so quickly would always be a mystery to him. 

“Don’t worry about me, sugar.” Before David could rebuttal, they placed a finger on his mouth. “I’ll hop in the shower and fuck my fingers,” they said casually, shrugging their shoulders before continuing. “Or I’ll find someone else to fuck. Either or works.”

His blood lit up like a match. 

Through his own heart roaring in his ears, David took a moment to gauge whether they were serious. When they didn't balk under his gaze, he swallowed the growl threatening to rise from within his chest. Had Darlin' said to his face that they wouldn't hesitate to find someone else to finish with? That they would find someone else to bring to bed when he was already there? Did they not realize that those words alone had stoked the whispers of doubt and threatened to confirm all of his fears that he wasn't good enough for them?

He couldn’t stand the mere thought of another’s hands on them, especially when he finally got to touch them like this. David wanted to be the one who Darlin’ ran to whenever they had a hard day. He wants to grant them comfort and sanctuary in a way no one has ever done in their life. The darkest depths of his desire urge him to go beyond his protective Beta (and an almost ignition of his Alpha) instincts and keep them all to himself. 

With him, Darlin’ will be safe. With him, Darlin’ will feel rapture.

He’d been dreaming of this moment for so long, and he won’t give it up for anything, or anyone.

With that, his mouth turned into a snarl. "You're staying right fucking here," he snarled into their ear, the earlier growl escaping before he had a chance to reel it back. There was no way he was going to let them go that easily, insecurities be damned. His fingers dug into strong thighs and warm skin with the strength to bruise, trying to contain the storm of emotions at the idea that their future partner wasn't him.

"You're staying with me."

His words made their eyes go wide and guilty, almost like a fawn, and completely unlike their usual sharp, wolf-like features. Underneath his hands, he could feel Darlin’ tense up and he could hear their heart speed up. David wanted Darlin’ to forget about their concerns and his hesitance, and instead opting to fall completely under this trance he’s created for them.

But with a shake of their head, Darlin’ was able to look through the jealousy and anger to the part of David that was still new to all of this. They ran a hand through his hair, adoration dripping from their fingers, and watched some of the rage leave his body as his face relaxed. It wasn’t enough to let go of all of his complicated feelings, but it was a start.

“I’m serious,” they started again with that infuriatingly soft tone. “There’s no rush, and I don’t want you to force yourself to do something if you’re not a hundred percent ready for it.” 

(Watching David get possessive sent their heart soaring, but they needed to make absolutely sure that this was what he wanted. That they were who he wanted.)

David took a deep breath to clear his mind. He was completely out of his element, and the lack of knowledge and control of what happened next terrified him. But he was with Darlin’, and he trusted Darlin’ with his life and his heart, even if he wasn’t ready to give it to them. 

“I want this- I want you. It’s just…” His voice trailed off with embarrassment, but Darlin’ was able to catch on.

The sound of their laughter reassured him more than any words could. “We all start somewhere, David. Ain’t nothing to be ashamed about.” Their hands massaged his shoulders so that he could let go of some tension. “How about you tell me what you want to do, and I tell you how to do it. Sounds good?”

Part of him wanted to throw that idea into the void. He shouldn’t have to be told how to pleasure them, he should just be able to do it. How else can he prove himself as a worthy mate?

The weaker part of him wanted to give in and listen to every command that they gave him. That side ended up winning.

David took a deep breath, steadying his heart and calming his nerves. As much as it was a hit to his pride, it made logical sense for them to take control. He can’t pleasure them if he doesn’t know what to do. It would be a struggle to give up control to them, but he could do it. If they took the lead, then it would be ok. There was nothing they could do to hurt him. He trusted them. 

There was no one on this plane of existence that he would trust over them right now. Even if it seems like that trust isn’t reciprocated.

“I- I can do that. You can, I don't know, take control…” He cringed at his tone and choice of words. Milo, Ash and Darlin’ were able to string along the smoothest of pickup lines and dirty talk, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t emulate that same energy. Ugh, what an annoyance. 

David tried to save himself from utter embarrassment, trying to come up with something more appropriate. But all of his attempts left Darlin’ giggling, and as precious as their laugh was, this was not the situation he’d want to hear it in. 

They covered their mouth with a hand. “I’m sorry! You’re just being really fucking adorable right now.” They squished his cheeks with both of their hands. “I could eat you alive right now, you’re that cute, sugar.” 

With a scoff and an eye roll from David, Darlin’ knew it was their cue to put their hands back on his shoulders. There was a time for teasing, and there was a time for praise. “Hey, remember. Everyone starts somewhere.”

Everyone did indeed start from somewhere. But did everyone start with the love of their lives sitting on a pool table? Ready to let them guide him during this vulnerable point in his life?

What a lucky man he is.

“So tell me, sugar, what do you want to do?” Their concern melted away, now a hundred percent confident that this is what he wants. Darlin’ leaned back with one arm supporting their weight, taking a good look at him. David puffed his chest out, liking their attention on him. He was proud of the body he worked hard for and being used as eye candy for Darlin’. 

Their other hand played with the button of his jeans, making sure to avoid the bulge that had been there for a while. “Well…”

He rolled his shoulders back and placed an arm around their body, caging them on top of the pool table. He kissed them, adoring the way they melted into him and moaned softly against his lips. He slipped his tongue between their lips, making sure to caress every nook and cranny of their mouth. Once he was temporarily satisfied with his claim on their mouth, he ran his piercing over their teeth, relishing the clink that came from it.

Reluctantly, he parted away from their lips. He was entranced by their face, eyes trailing from their glowing cheeks and swollen lips. Beautiful. They were absolutely beautiful, even if they denied it. He was going to make sure that even if they didn’t care about him or his love, at the very least, he could provide some form of pleasure and love from his end.

“I want to put my piercing to the test.” He slid a hand underneath their shirt, grazing over their chest and adoring the way their body squirmed and stiffened. “Do you remember why I asked about it in the first place?” David placed his mouth on their neck, smirking at them flinching when the cold metal touched their warm skin.

Darlin’ held onto his shoulders to balance themselves. “Y-yeah, I remember.” 

He felt a violent groan vibrate in their chest and he knew that he teased them far too much for their liking. They grabbed onto the strands of his hair and yanked them back. Their doe-like eyes turned back into the wolf-like features that he was more familiar with. David had a feeling that he was about to become prey to be used to their liking. 

With a smirk, Darlin’ shoved his head back and growled in his ear.

“Get on your knees then, sugar. Show me what that mouth can do.”

Dazed by the tone of their voice, David got on his knees. Shaking with pleasure, he looked up at Darlin’s almost condescending aura. Being as tall as he is, he’d never had to look up at anybody. He quite liked this view, especially if it meant Darlin’ looks at him with those piercing eyes, gleaming with dominance and mischief.

Slowly, Darlin’ opened their legs with a lazy smile and beckoned him to come closer. “Come on, handsome. We don’t got all day and you’re the one who wants to put your mouth on me.” At this point, David’s heart was ready to combust all over the floor. How they casually made his heart soar and cock hard was something that needed to be studied.

He crawled over to Darlin’, finally in between their thighs and eyes level with their chest. Warmth and salvation coursed through his blood. He'd always thought that if heaven was a place on Earth, it would be between Darlin's legs. If he choked to death tonight, he would die a happy man.

Letting out a whistle, Darlin’ held his chin up, forcing him to look at them. “My, oh my, David. You look so pretty on your knees.” His cheeks went hot with embarrassment and every fibre of his body begged for him to refute their claims. But before he could look away and hide away in their thighs, their hold on his chin tightened and they let out a disappointed click of their tongue. “No, no, baby. You’re gonna keep those pretty eyes on me, is that clear?”

His head had officially gone blank and he nodded, willing to do anything that they would have asked him in that moment.

“Good boy, David. You’re doing amazing sugar.” They praised him in the sultry tone that made his knees weak. Luckily, he wasn’t standing or else he would have fallen over. 

His hands hover over their body, unsure of where to put them. He desperately wanted to hold their thighs again, or maybe their hips - honestly, he just wanted to touch his darling. But he knew that Darlin’ tends to balk at unexpected touches, even from dear friends. Then again, he’s also seen… videos where the more dominant partner just grabs their partner or partners with no hesitation. Should he do that? Or maybe wait for what they say? Or maybe…

Darlin’s eyebrow rose, queueing him that they noticed the glazed-over look in David’s eyes. They already knew that his mind was wandering in unnecessary places. “Oh David,” they drew out with their teasing voice, “I can’t be losing you already?” The hand in his hair and the other stroking his cheek brought him back to reality. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, baby?”

He mustered up some of that fake confidence, hoping that it would translate into actual conviction once he put his mouth on them. There was no point in hiding what he desired, and right now, he craved to taste them and watch them fall apart under his tongue. Besides, he knew that no matter what, Darlin’ would never let him down. They have proven that fact time and time again, and he can trust them when he’s vulnerable and under their spell.

(Though not at his most vulnerable. He still has reservations about confessing to them, but those were more of his faults and none of his. Dare he say that they were perfect, from their perfect smile to their pristine white fur coat, and he was the unruly beast whose torture was to have everything he wanted just out of his reach. That won’t stop him. He’ll find the courage to hand them his bleeding heart, just not right now.)

(Hell was the other people who made Darlin’ smile, and he's going to rectify that fact sooner rather than later, but still later.)

“Where do you want my hands on you?” He softly ran his hands over their thighs. “You’re in control here.” Not that they needed reminding, given their eye roll.

They grabbed his hands, holding them in front of their face. Darlin’ ran a finger over every line on his palm, the gentle touch being enough to make him shiver. “Hmm, what to do with your hands?” Darlin’ pondered as they placed a kiss on each knuckle. If he wasn’t dying from how tempting they were, he’d be dying because of how adorable they were. 

Finally done with their pondering, though David has a feeling that they knew what they wanted him to do from the beginning, they put his hands on the buttons of their jeans. 

“Take them off, sugar.”

His mind raced in different directions, all of them leading to seeing the wolf in front of him in different directions. He knew this was going to happen, you can’t have sex with all your clothes on. But to actually see this - see them - is a whole other thing. And while the wolf in front of him would be more beautiful than whatever pitiful image his mind conjured up, he doesn’t think his heart will be able to survive to truly admire their beauty.

Deft hands unbuttoned their jeans, heeding the warning Darlin’ gave about ripping their clothes. If the image of their bare body wasn’t enough to drive him mad, his senses were overloaded with the scent of their arousal. He’d had whiffs of the intoxicating scent, after finding them in compromisable positions. This was different though. It was concentrated, it was overbearing in the best way, and it was all for him. Only him.

He wouldn't admit the possessive spark from deep in his heart that was born. 

After resisting the desire to rip their jeans off and carefully unbuttoning them, David held their hips, waiting for Darlin’ to give their next set of instructions. 

“Very good, David,” they moaned, giving his hair a good ruffle. They gestured to him to scooch back a little bit and jumped off the pool table. After stretching their back from sitting for so long, they put their hands on top of his. “It’s getting a little hot in here, don’t you think, sugar?” Without waiting for a response, Darlin’ guided David’s hands to take off their jeans.

To say that this was a dream come true would be an understatement. 

He could see the end of scars on their thighs that started from their hips, the birthmark and blemishes, and the bruises that he left behind. David makes a note to press harder for next time, just so he could leave darker marks on them. This being Darlin’, they make everything more difficult than it has to be, so of course they were pulling their pants and underwear down at a glacial pace. But he dare not defy the speed they set, both to not make them uncomfortable, or have them disappointed in him.

Finally, finally, Darlin’s jeans came off and they stepped out of them. There was no coherent thought in his head due to the sight and scent of them, except for them to allow him to put his mouth on them. He deserved it because he’s been waiting for so long. They deserved it because they deserve all the pleasure in this world.

And he was going to make sure he’d be the only person who could bring them that level of joy.

Hopping back onto the pool table, Darlin’ took off the rest of their clothes that they had on, leaving them naked in front of David.

Were they trying to kill him? It was already too much for him to see them without their pants on, but now they were taking off everything? Leaving nothing to his sorry imagination?

Vile, terrible, and wickedly cruel - the despicable, conniving wolf he fell in love with. He must be the luckiest man alive.

He eyed their body, taking in every detail for him to conjure up whenever he was alone. He couldn’t think of anything to say about them except for the fact that they were beautiful. That they were an angel sent from above as his salvation. Or maybe the devil who’d damn him to hell. In either case, he was ready to follow them wherever they may want to go. Including all the way to Vancouver for some fucking coffee.

(Darlin’s insecurities run rampant, that much isn’t a surprise. They never understood why anyone found them attractive, yet they always rolled with it. They were also known to throw caution to the wind and do some impulsive things. But even they were taken aback when they took off their own shirt. They were sure that David would have got up and left without saying another word.)

(They weren’t lying when they said David looks pretty on his knees. But the way he looked up at them almost reverently, like he was on his knees praying at a church, was doing too much to their fragile heart. Then again, it was David. And he wouldn’t do anything to hurt them.)

“Get back over here, sugar. There’ll be more time for you to touch this body later on,” they laughed and pulled his head closer. He was only a hair's breadth away from where they needed him the most. Scent makes up most of your taste, so he already knows that they will taste divine. Bodies entwined and his hands itching, he’s damn near dying to get his mouth on them. 

Darlin’ held his chin and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Can you open your mouth for me real quick? I just need to do something real quick, ok?” He had no idea what they were about to do. Was there a secret step that needed to be done that they didn’t show in the sex scenes he endured over the years? He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, so he opened his mouth, knowing they had everything under control.

He was certainly not expecting them to spit on his tongue.

David whimpered when their spit hit his tongue, which was drier than usual. Probably because their mouth is unnaturally warm and addicting. This wasn’t an unwelcome feeling though, and he’d love to see them spit on his cock later on. If he’s lucky tonight won’t be a one-time thing.

Manically grinning while watching their spit run down his tongue, they used their tongue to spread their spit on his piercing. He moaned, and when he tried to pull his head back because it was getting too much, Darlin’ gripped his chin tighter and pulled him in closer, practically shoving their tongue to the back of his throat.

They pulled back and hummed in appreciation at the sight in front of them. Satisfied by the blissed-out look in David’s eyes and the spit surrounding the piercing, Darlin’ smiled and blew gently on the metal. He felt a shiver down his spine and blood rushing to his cock, the slight cold being something he wasn’t used to but definitely wasn’t not welcoming. “Alrighty then,” they sighed and leaned back, still adoring the dazed expression on his face. “It feels better when the piercing’s cold.”

At this point, David wasn’t even sure he was paying much attention anymore. All he could think about was how he was burning to taste them, to drink down every drop of pleasure he could squeeze out of them, to drag them over that edge as many times as they demanded until they were spent and sated. But despite aching to bury his face in their thighs, he waited for their command. He’s done so good so far, he’s not going to disappoint them yet.

“I didn’t think you had it in you to be this patient, David,” they cooed while placing their thumb on his bottom lip. “Thought you would have gone feral by now and done whatever you wanted.” Oh, he was so close to his breaking point, but his resolve was strong for now. 

“Does my good boy finally want to put that pretty mouth to good use?”

David’s head perked up at the question, his eyes widening and mouth-watering. Nodding his head with a renewed vigour, he exclaimed, “Yes please!” His desperation was obvious to both him and Darlin’, and while he would never want to show too much emotion around them, wanting to keep his aloof Beta persona, he couldn’t give a damn right now. 

He was finally going to taste them, and it was going to be worth it.

Darlin’ giggled at his reaction. They knew he was desperate, but they didn’t think he was over the edge of composure. He bets that it was amusing to see their cold Beta be so open about his feelings. “You asked for it, pretty boy.” They took his hands and placed them on his thighs. “Can you put them on your shoulders? Pretty please.” Their voice was dripping with faux innocence but he saw right past it.

He picked up their legs and threw them over his shoulders, grinning at the moan Darlin’ let out. He may have done it a little more aggressively than necessary to make up for all the teasing, but that wasn’t the point, now was it? He felt the strong muscles cushioning his ears and heels digging into his back. His heavy breaths against them made them shake in his hold. He could see how they were dripping for him. It was nice to know that he had the same effect on them as they did on him.

Looking up from between his legs, he silently asked permission to use his mouth. With Darlin’s nod giving him the green light, he prodded at them with his tongue, trying to figure out what felt good for them. They shivered, the cold piercing doing exactly what they said it would, giving them an additional sensation to derive pleasure from.

He was right. They tasted divine and he was rapidly becoming addicted. David was fully prepared to give up his worldly duties in favour of becoming Darlin’s permanent seat. The warmth that radiated from their body had lit a flame in him that wasn’t going away. Not until he could see them fall apart around his mouth.

“F-fuck David,” they said through a string of moans. He could feel their thighs squeezing his head and hand tugging his hair, pulling his head closer, which meant he must be doing something right. He became emboldened to bury himself deeper, with his hands spreading them apart and pulling them closer. 

He noticed that every time he growled and moaned against them, Darlin’ would moan louder and at a higher pitch. The facade they created earlier was falling apart, and David was honoured that they would drop it around them. 

Through their moans and tensing body, they grabbed David’s hands from their legs and placed them on their chest. He looked up at them with confusion, until Darlin’ spoke up with a breathy voice. 

“Touch me, David. Don’t let your mouth do all the work.” He nodded, continuing to devour them with his tongue while also squeezing his chest. “Oh- shit, that’s it, sugar!” They were grinding themselves against his mouth and he was obsessed. He continued to grope their chest, pinching their nipples between his fingers to draw out every moan he could.

David could feel that they were getting closer. He couldn’t move his tongue more freely in them, and he almost thought that they were in pain. But the wanton moans and pleas they were letting out had clued him in that they were having as much fun as he was. If he wasn’t careful, he’d climax on his own and untouched just at the sight of their release.

With a growl, Darlin’ ripped a hand from his chest and guided him to stroke them. “Keep moving- shit- just like that,” they groaned, pushing his hands and face closer to them. He choked and moaned into them, deeply consumed into their entire being.

It was when Darlin’ let out a high-pitched moan and convulsed forward that he knew that he finally tipped them over the edge. Holding their hips to stop them from falling, he swallowed every bit of them that he could. Darlin’ leaned back, heaving like they were done with a marathon. David reluctantly pulled away, but the sight of them breathless and eyes blown out with lust was much worth it. He could always get on his knees again.

He slowly stood up with Darlin’s legs wrapped around his waist and his clothed chest against their bare one. David could see their doe-like eyes, elated over the fact that it was all because of him. He brought them that joy. He made them feel like they were walking amongst the stars. And he wishes that he could get on his knees again.

Making sure they calmed down enough to look him in the eyes, David wiped their slick off his mouth, licking the back of his hand to not waste a single drop. Darlin’s eyes never left him, and he heard their heartbeat speed up.

“That… that was hot.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s all you have to say?” He questioned, without betraying the fear in his heart that he wasn’t up to their expectations.

Darlin’ rolled their eyes and in between their breathing, they huffed out, “Excuse me, sir. Let- let me catch my breath.” They closed their eyes and took a deep breath, looking the most serene they have looked in all of their time together. David memorized everything about them right now, afraid that he’ll never see this view again. 

(Darlin’, in their incoherent thoughts, was still able to deduce that giving David that tongue piercing was the best idea they could have come up with.)

They ruffled with his hair, giggling at the deadpan look David gave them. “You were amazing, sugar. Are you sure this was your first time?”

“We both know the answer to that,” he joked and leaned in for another kiss. But before his lips could touch his, he paused. Was this ok? He kissed them earlier, but that was before he made them come. Maybe now that they’ve gotten what they needed, they don’t want anything to do with him.

In his pondering, Darlin’ closed their eyes and the gap between them. He melted against their lips, placing a hand on their back to keep his steady. 

This time, the kiss was sweet. It didn’t have the urgency of lust from earlier. It was calm, like it was alright for him to get lost in them because they would help him through the fog. David didn’t know if that was his love-sick mind thinking that, or maybe that it might be the actual truth. 

Pulling away with a smile and laughing when David trailed after them, Darlin’ hopped off the pool table. Instead of picking up their clothes to put them back on, they pushed him against the table. “So handsome, is it your turn?”

David felt the heat rush down to his cock. There wasn’t a doubt in his brain that he wanted Darlin’, especially with them naked and smirking in front of him. He craved to make his fantasies into reality, wanting to inflict them with all the want and lust that he’d caused them over the years.

Maybe he could bend them over the pool table?

Push them against the wall.

Or maybe he'd take them to his room and drench their scent into his bed.

There was just one problem…

“If you don’t want to, I get it.” Darlin’s voice broke him from his trance. “I get it if you want to do it with someone you care about, and y’know, have it mean something, and like it’s just me so-”

“This does mean something to me,” he cut their rambling off. David has known that underneath their bravado and confidence, Darlin’ was often insecure about their excess amount of care. It was the thing he hated most about them. Nothing more angering and heart was breaking than watching them cut themselves off or ramble on an unnecessary excuse. He won’t have it, especially if he knows that they have nothing to worry about.

Darlin’ gave a blank stare and as David was preparing to repeat himself, they spoke, albeit without their usual confidence.

But before he could respond, Darlin’ looked down, hesitance and shyness crept into their voice. “You actually mean that?” Their question was laced with quiet want, or at least he hoped it was a desire for him. He prayed that they had been suppressing their feelings for him.

Lucky for them, he had that same longing, for this to mean more than what they thought the other wanted.

He held their jaw, tilting their head up to look into their pretty eyes. The lust from earlier turned into a softer love. Instead of being blown out with pleasure, the sharp angles of their face softened, their usual yet rare doe aura returning. As much as David wanted to deny the fact that Darlin’ could actually be in love with him, it was getting harder to deny when he could see his own desire reflected in their face. 

Unfortunately for them and everyone around them, Darlin’ and David adored the idea of plausible deniability. It was easier to assume that something isn’t true unless it’s being thrown into their faces. Although, they use this concept for different reasons.

For David, it was an annoyance for people to speak to him in riddles and code. He’d rather everyone just be straightforward with what they’re trying to say.

For Darlin’ it was harder for the cops to tie you to a crime if you’re seen smiling at the security cameras, or looking away from your best friend at the right time.

David leaned in, pressing his lips onto their forehead. They deserve a proper confession, and he wanted to give it to them. For now, this would have to be enough for both of them. It was more than they could ever crave. He pulled back, looking at Darlin’s eyes fluttering closed and they edged closer to him. It was a softer kiss than either of them expected from the other, but it was needed all the same. 

Darlin’ was used to throwing themselves full force into everything, always bracing for impact. David needed to prove to them and to himself that he would be there to cushion them. Because if he doesn’t, then who else will?

(His wolf howled selfishly at the thought of him being the only one taking care of them.)

Darlin’ wrapped their arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Breaking the kiss, they chuckled when David let out a little whine, following their lips to keep kissing them. 

“Well, if you’re game for it, so am I.” Whispering in his ear, they asked him, “Where do you want to do it, sugar?”

His mind and blood raced downwards, thinking about the many different fantasies that Darlin’ would make come true at this moment. Looking around the room, his eyes landed on the pool table behind them, and a bold idea entered his mind.

“I want you to ride me on top of the pool table.”

Silence filled the air and David thought that maybe he had gone too far. Fuck- fuck! Did he push it for his first time? Was Darlin’ uncomfortable with the idea, but was convincing themselves to go through with it so his first time would be perfect? Did they not know any first time with them would be perfect?

“I didn’t think you had it in you to ask that, baby Alpha?” They crooned, pushing his back against the pool table. Darlin’ stared into his eyes and held his shirt, only taking it off when David gave them the ok. Shirt on the ground, they stared at his torso, running their hands over his torso, resting them on his chest. 

“Holy fucking hell, Shaw.” David could see Darlin’s breath quicken and their eyes went wide, and he could hear their heartbeat pick up a little bit. He puffed his chest in pride seeing the trance Darlin’ was under. Thankfully not the normal trances they were used to.

Pouting like a child, their lips traced his collarbone, causing David’s knees to go weak. His hands went down to Darlin’s waist, debating on whether or not he should pull them closer. He didn’t have to make that choice, with them taking the initiative to push their bare body into his. “You’ve been hiding one hell of a body, Davey,” they smiled, kissing his neck and torso. 

 “Well you’re one- shit, to talk,” he choked out, squirming in his place. He pulled their head back, noting how Darlin’s voice went higher. Instead of looking him in his eyes, their gaze was fixed on the button on his pants. There was something in Darlin’ that was holding them back from ripping his jeans, he could see it in the way their nails dug into his thighs, a spark of pleasure and pain going through his body.

Not wanting to waste another minute, he took a deep breath and unbuttoned his own pants. If Darlin’ was waiting for him to be ready, he’ll show that he’s been waiting for this moment for as long as he’s known them.

Their hands let go of his thighs, grabbing onto the waistband of his pants and underwear to pull them down. He hissed as the air hit his bare and cold body. He couldn't decide if he should look at Darlin' or not, fearing that he would see disappointment in their eyes. So he kept his gaze low, baring himself in his entirety before the love of his life.

Darlin' didn't say a word, just quietly tracing their hands over his body. It was gentler than anyone would have expected from them. But the average person didn't know how Darlin' would hold themselves back to stop themselves from pouring too much of themselves, causing the other person to be overwhelmed. But David would do anything for the honour of drowning in their love.

"Look…" they pleaded, placing a hand under his chin to tilt his head up. He looked up slowly, his wide eyes meeting their tender expression. With a smile, they caressed his face with their hand. "You're so pretty, you know that right?" He knew that objectively, it's hard to ignore your looks when you have people gawking as if you're a Greek god. But being told and actually believing it were two different things.

With Darlin' though, their hands and body slotted against him like a puzzle piece, he feels pretty. Actually pretty. 

"Speak for yourself," he chuckled, butterflies filling his stomach. "You're beautiful, Darlin'." Because if he is pretty, then they were downright gorgeous. The sun in wolf form, blessed by Angels and saints that have long eluded him. Why ask for a guardian angel when he had Darlin' with him?

They rolled their eyes, a cocky expression on their face. "Sugar, I already know that." Not that it stopped the bashful smile on their face. Confidence surged through his body, he had the same effect on Darlin' as they did on him, and he would use it for the future.

Pushing the hair stuck on their sweaty forehead, he snarked, "all the more reason to call you beautiful, beautiful." His eyes were drawn to their lips as they bit them, desperately to tug on them with his own. So he did exactly that. 

Leaning forward to press his forehead onto theirs, he kissed their lips, holding the back of their head to pull them closer. David tilted his head, slipping his tongue inside of their mouth. He could feel their sharpening teeth and their little gasps and moans. David bit their lip while pulling away, relishing in the sharp breath they took.

A second of silence goes by before David spoke up, snapping Darlin' out of their daze. "Are you going to ride me, or do I need to fuck you myself?" It was false bravado and confidence that was dripping from his voice, but he didn't care. His cock was aching to be inside of them, now. 

They raised an eyebrow with a smile. "Hold on, let me grab something real quick." 

"I have condoms in my pants," he yelled out from behind them. He was sure that they didn't have any infections, knowing that they go to get regular checkups. And he definitely didn't have any, since, well, this was his first time. But a man could never be too safe, and David was ready to take any and all precautions.

"Not a condom, but thank you David!" They came back with a blanket, laying it on top of the pool table. "I don't want you to get road- er, pool-burned?" they mumbled to themselves, wondering if that was the right choice of words. But they shook their head because they thought that this was the wrong time to think about word choices. For David's sake at least.

He moved to place himself in front of the blanket, pulling them alongside him by their waist. "Thank you, beautiful."

"No problem, sugar," they cooed, playing with his hair. They took a condom from his pocket, ripping it open with their teeth. Carefully, they unrolled it over David's cock, going slowly to not overstimulate David.

(Not yet, at least.)

With some of that earlier confidence, David leaned back against the table. "You know, I think you're full of shit, Darlin'." He wondered that if he egged them on enough, they'd finally do something to him, relieving some of the desperation pooling in his stomach.

He froze under their steely gaze and arched eyebrows. "Really, you think so?" Their voice went from warm and caring to cold and detached. It should have made him step back, but he kept going.

He stood taller and leaned over them. "All this time, and you haven't done shit but just talk." He squeezed their ass and pushed them against the pool table. "Maybe I should show you how it's done," he whispered into their ear, kissing and biting their neck.

For a moment, David could have deluded himself into thinking that he would actually be able to take control of this moment.

That was until Darlin' pushed him back with a hand on his throat. "Oh, aren't you precious, little Alpha?" A dark chuckle and a darker look were all it took for David's knees to get weak, ready to get onto the ground and be obedient to Darlin'. 

Before he could agitate them further, Darlin' picked David up by his thighs, turning around and laying him down on top of the blanket. "You were saying, Davey? Something about me just 'talkin' shit'?" They climbed onto the pool table, hovering over David. 

David needed control like he needed his magic to shift. It was weird being under someone, and he had half the mind to push them off him. But it's Darlin'. They won't let anything bad happen to him.

"Well?" Their voice shook them out of their thoughts. "You said you wanted to tell me what to do?" They leaned forward so they were chest to chest, forehead to forehead. "So tell me, sugar?" 

Darlin's glare was enough to make his throat dry, words in Spanish and English leaving his brain. To make it worse, their hand gently played with the head of his cock, finding wicked joy in his struggle. The light pressure made his head spin, but every time he'd raise his hips to grind against their hand, Darlin' would push him back down.

"That's not what I asked you to do, sugar," they mocked with fake pity. A firm squeeze to his head was all David needed to cry out, but it didn't deter the wolf. "I asked you," they paused to kiss his neck, trailing up to whisper in his ear, "what do you want me to do?"

His mind had a million options wishing to spill out between parted lips. He wanted their hand, but he also wanted their mouth with lips stretching around him as they took him down their sinful throat. He wanted them, under him, over him, with their nails digging into his shoulders...

But what he offered them was a growl that melted into a whimper when he realized he'd take anything at all if it meant they didn't stop.

Hips threatened to buck up into their grasp to get even a fraction more of their touch, but they kept true to their word and waited. Another growl left him, of frustration this time. It ended the same as the first did, though words followed as his body burned for more. 

"Please, need you to..." 

A hum left their lips, dancing in the air.

David knew they had to be getting some sick enjoyment from this. He also knew the thought alone had him growing harder against their palm, but their tongue swiping along their lower lip showed it was a welcome discovery. 

Rolling his head back, he groaned and felt like he was about to burst from the sight alone. 

"Just ride me already," he hissed, a choked breath leaving him when they shifted their hand ever so slightly. "Fuck, please ride me. Need it. Need you..." he rambled, relieved when he lifted his head and found himself staring into blown pupils. 

Taking mercy on him, Darlin' let go of their cock, smiling at his flustered state. They leaned back, admiring the mess that they made him. "Now was that so hard, hm?" They sat back onto his cock, grinding against it to make sure he was ready for them. He held onto their hips, both in a plea for them to go faster and to hold himself steady.

Deeming him ready for that sweet release, they moved up onto their knees, holding onto his cock to keep him still. "Are you ready?" they asked gleefully, stroking his cock to make sure he was slick and ready for them. 

He couldn't find the words to say yes though. Not because he was having second thoughts, but because he couldn't believe his situation right now. Darlin', the wolf he's been in love with since they joined the pack, was willing to have sex with him. There'd always been a part of him that was scared to ask them out, fearing they'd only say yes due to his position as Beta and the Alpha's son. But seeing that familiar determined look was all he needed to know that his dreams were coming true.

(Darlin' was also in shock at what was happening as well. As the Alpha's son, surely David had better options than them? They were proud of who they were and where they came from, but there was always a nagging voice in their brain that told them otherwise. Where David had been raised in white picket fences, Darlin' had been raised surrounded by metal cages. It was no secret that from the way they talked (and how they hid it) to the way they dressed, they were both from fundamentally different worlds.)

(But seeing David with needy eyes and a loving gaze made them feel like they belonged. Actually belonged. And that maybe, home wasn't limited to snowy streets and gray skyscrapers. It could also be in the arms of their best friend.)

Somehow, David was able to find his voice again, and all he whispered was yes, over and over again, while nodding his head vigorously.

Darlin' chuckled at his eagerness, slowly lowering themselves onto him. "What my future Alpha wants, is what he gets," they murmured with a breathless sigh, watching his cock disappear inside of them. They took their time to let themselves adjust to his size before they sank to the base with a sharp inhale, arching their back and digging their nails into his heated skin.

Holy fuck. Holy shit. This was actually happening. 

David held his breath as they tightened around him, watching as their eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. That had to be a good thing, right? He hoped it was. Hell, he currently felt like he was on cloud nine and they hadn't even moved yet. How long would he even last?  

Oh God, he couldn't come too quickly. That'd be too embarrassing.

He pinched himself, just to make sure that he wasn't stuck in another wet dream. He wasn't. This was very real. And when he felt Darlin' shift around him, he was finally convinced that this was very, very real.

"Ok, I'mma start moving, but—," they began, taking deep breaths to keep their voice steady, “—if you need this to stop…for me to stop, you need to tell me." 

David rolled his eyes at their warning, lips parting to retort only for his words to die on his tongue when they held his face in their hands. Darlin’ stared into his eyes, making sure he was staring back before continuing. 

"I'm serious, David. You wanna stop? You tell me. Alright?"

He nodded as he swallowed roughly, doing his best to keep his breaths somewhat even. It was hard to focus on anything apart from how well they were taking him and the fact this was only the beginning. His impatience was slowly eating away at him, even more so as he took in the sight of them on top of him like some sort of ethereal god. 

David would be more than happy to get on his knees for them again if they ever asked. 

“I need to hear you, David. You never had an issue mouthing off before…so use those words of yours. Tell me you understand.” 

The urge to bare his teeth was forced down as he cursed under his breath, nodding but adding what they’d been so keen on pulling out of him. 

“Yes, yes, I understand,” he groaned, thighs tensing when Darlin’ shifted ever so slightly. They would be the death of him, he was sure of it, but at least it’d be a hell of a way to go. “I’ll tell you what I need and right now I need you to move. So, please—” 

A shudder left Darlin’ as they offered a smile that had his pulse stuttering before returning to its concerningly quick pace. 

“Good boy.”

David didn't have time to process their praise, too focused on the feeling of them rising and sinking onto his cock without warning. Whether he whimpered or not he'd never admit, their movements lighting a fire in his gut. If this was how he felt when they were taking it slow, he wasn't sure he'd last long with what was no doubt still in store for him. 

Giggling at David's reaction, they couldn't help but offer a mocking coo. "Aw, is my little baby close already?" Their words were followed by a shift of their hips, lifting enough until only the tip of him was inside them. This time, there was no hiding the whine that tore from his throat, a smirk growing from their once gentle smile. "I don't know how long you're going to last, Davey. Let's find out, hm?"

It was the only warning he got before Darlin' started moving at a steady pace, moving in slow yet forceful motions. They put enough strength to make sure he felt everything he could have ever dreamed, but slow enough for it to be agonizing, making him beg for more. It was enough to have him writhing on the pool table, one hand gripping onto the edge and the other on their thighs, holding on for dear life. 

Pushing up with what strength he could garner, he pressed his lips to their own with a soft groan, arms wrapping around their waist and pulling them closer. He needed their body pressed to him: needed to feel their core so his own could melt into it until only one remained. He had spent so long thinking of what it would be like to have them this way. He'd be a fool not to savour it for as long as he could. "

They stopped, surprised by the kiss. After the initial shock faded, their arms moved around his neck, hands playing with his hair, pressed flush into his chest. Any time they tried to pull away, David would growl, either pulling them back or following their lips to capture them again. He wasn't ready to let go of them. He wasn't sure he'd ever be ready to let go of them again.

Without breaking the kiss, Darlin' started to bounce on his cock, swallowing up any moans from David's mouth. He could barely register the creaking table beneath them, too focused on watching their head roll back, showing off their very kissable neck. God, he wished he had the strength to sit up and bite them. But Darlin's weight on his lap paralyzed him, unable to find the core strength to hold them flush against him. All he could do was grip their hips to hold them steady and keep kissing them. He felt his teeth sharpen, aching to bite them and be bitten by them.

Going off of instincts, he began to thrust up into them, desperately trying to match the pace that they set. "You're so goddamn tight!" He whined while mindlessly fucking them, hands on hips helping them move faster.

"Oh, really Davey?" They asked with a breathless laugh. How Darlin' was able to keep their composure was a mystery to him, especially with the way they tightened even more around him, enough to have him choking out strings of profanities at the sensation. "You close, babyboy?" 

He could feel himself closer to the edge, but couldn't form words to say it, losing his sanity with every second that went by. The pool table started to shift in place, moving back with every movement and he couldn't help but fall further into their spell. He relished in the quiet moans that he was able to get out of them, but he wanted more. He wished that they were louder, and craved to have them screaming his name, but he was so focused on his own pleasure that he failed to realize how close he'd become.

"Darlin'- I'm so close-" He choked out between moans, fingers borderline drawing blood from their hips. He felt the unfamiliar washing over him, and he chased it with great desperation. Mindless and borderline feral at the feeling of Darlin' clenching around him, his hips stuttered, the feeling so overwhelming that he couldn't keep a steady pace. His muscles felt tight and he was choking on his rapture, barely able to breathe or speak or move.

It brought him joy to know that Darlin's composure was slowly slipping away, their growls slowly devolving into broken wails. They have always been the picture of composure, not even letting their anger be shown on their face aside from a quiet, cold, fury. He treasured the privilege of seeing them let go of themselves and just feel. Their strong thighs clamped around his hips to keep them both steady, and their nails scratched his chest. He was ready to wear their marks proudly the next day. 

"I know, David- shit," they moaned, tilting their head back with their eyes shut. Sweaty and incoherent, he's never seen them more beautiful than at this moment. One where either of them can break at a moment's notice. Even now, they matched David's thrusts, focused on making sure he didn't do all the work and focused on a good first time.

Pleasure and desperation mixing together, David snapped, his core reaching out to grab onto theirs. Blood filled with ecstasy and head ringing with the sound of his moans, he didn't feel the magic that surged through him. It was only when Darlin' screamed, head thrown back and back arching beautifully, that he realized something was wrong.

"FUCK!" they yelled out, their body going limp on top of him and falling backwards. He grabbed onto them and placed them onto his chest, giving each other a chance to breathe before moving. He pushed the hair stuck on their forehead, looking into their dazed eyes. He felt himself falling in love with them all over again.

Careful to not overstimulate either of them, Darlin' pushed themselves off David's chest. He whined, liking and wanting them to stay on his chest for as long as the waves would long for the moon. They rolled their eyes, laughed breathlessly and with a hoarse voice, they asked, "was that good?" 

There were no adjectives, verbs, adverbs or descriptors that could describe how that felt, so he supposed 'good' would have to suffice. 

David was never a religious man. Sure, he went to church like the good son he was to make his father happy, and he's not above a little prayer to get through a difficult slump. Despite all of that, he could never understand what it meant to have a religious experience, an event that was so miraculous that the only explanation was that a higher power rewrote the fabric of the universe in order to let it happen.

He was convinced that Darlin' was that higher power. The only one he'd worship from here on out.

Feeling his vocal cords functioning again, his strained voice responded. "Was more than good, beautiful," he said while playing with their hair. 

"Good, I'm glad," they sighed in relief. "I do have a question…" Their voice trailed off with a little bit of uncertainty.

"What is it?" 

"Did you-" they cut themselves with a chuckle. "Did you mean to half-shift in me?"

David's eyes went wide while his mouth spewed out apologies. He knew how painful it can be to have anything inserted into your body, always cringing at those who claim that 6 inches was not enough. But to have one suddenly grow bigger inside of them, even for a split moment, sounded awful. 

Given that he was quite a large wolf, even for his young age, it made sense that all parts of his body grew proportionally.

Placing a hand on his chest to calm him down, Darlin' laughed off his concern. "It's fine, I promise. Hurt for a little bit and don't think I'd be down for that again, but it felt really good." Their voice emphasizing the pleasure over the pain eased his nerves, glad that they did like it, unexpected as it was. "Just give me a heads up next time, ok?" They jest with a smile.

So there will be a next time. Yay for him!

"Of course," he said before leaning closer to whisper in their ear. "I'll make sure to shift before I fuck you instead."

They shivered at David's admission. "Don't threaten me with a good time, Shaw," they rolled their eyes before slowly coming off of his lap to sit beside him. David hissed at the loss of contact, out of overstimulation and the desire to keep them close for even longer.  

Sitting by his side, they both basked in the familiar silence that accompanied them for their shared lives. Darlin' laid his head on his shoulder and David wrapped an arm around their waist. In many ways, things were the same. Yet everything was different now.

"You should go to bed, David." They rest their chin on his shoulder to look at him. "You must be tired as shit right now." Completely ignoring that they looked like they were going to fall asleep at any moment. 

"You're right, I should go to bed." He felt more alive and awake than he ever has, but with the way Darlin' was slumped over, he figured that the best way to get them to bed was to sleep himself. 

He picked Darlin' up bridal style, careful to not strain any of their muscles and ignoring the yelp of surprise he gave them.

"What are you doing?" Curiosity and uncertainty filled their voice, yet they buried their face into his chest, slowly dozing off in the process.

"We're both going to bed." Before he could whine in protest, insisting that they weren't tired and could go home in their state, David kicked open the door to their childhood bedroom and laid them on his bed. Running to the bathroom he grabbed a washcloth to clean himself and Darlin' before they headed to bed.

Their eyes tracked his every move, he wondered if he was doing anything wrong. Maybe the cloth was too rough? Or maybe they didn't want to come to his bed?

"You know, I'm supposed to be taking care of you, since this is you're the virgin- excuse me, ex-virgin," they snarked from the bed.

He flicked their forehead at their comment. "Shut up and let yourself be cared for, you stubborn dick." He grabbed a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants for the both of them, throwing Darlin's set at their face and laughing at their exasperated expression. But it didn't stop them from putting his clothes on.

The sight of Darlin' in his clothes and dozing off in his bed, his scent mixing with his, was enough to make his wolf go feral. He's no stranger to the hardships Darlin' faced in their life, always concerned for when they went after the shady people they called family. Sure, it was clear they cared for them, but if they really loved Darlin', they wouldn't drag them into such dangerous situations.

It wasn't in them to say no to a friend's request though, so David supposed that he may have to be the one to keep them safe.

(Realistically, he knew Darlin' would hate that. The idea of another person making their decisions and dragging David into a danger he had no reason to be involved in would eat them alive. But forgive him, he's a boy - nay, a man - in love trying to keep his future mate alive long enough to call them his mate. You can't really do that with a dead person, despite other's insistence.)

Clothes on, he slipped beside Darlin'. Immediately, they moved back to give him space, much to his chagrin. He pulled them against his chest, a hand behind their neck to keep them close. "You just sent me to heaven and back, and now you won't cuddle with me?" Resting his chin on top of their head, he finished his thought with a laugh. "Rude."

He expected a snarky comment back from them, maybe a joke about how he was an asshole. He didn't expect brutal honesty from them.

"I didn't think you'd want to." Their voice was muffled from being pressed against David's chest, but he could still hear the apprehension in their words. He held them tighter, hopefully conveying to their stubborn brain that he did want them with him.

They fought back against his hold to look him in his eyes. "Most people don't really want to cuddle after fucking," they huffed and it filled David with anger. Who in their right mind would be blessed with the chance to sleep next to them, only to throw it away because they got what they wanted? How many times did Darlin' want to be comforted only to feel used like a toy?

He shook his head of those thoughts. It didn't matter anymore, he'd hold them for as long as they asked for it.

"Well I want you, Darlin'." His arms pushed them back into his heart. Before they could pointlessly argue, he gently scratched their scalp. Just as he thought, their breathing slowed down and head went limp against his pillow. "Now shut up and go to sleep," he chided with love and care.

They couldn't go to sleep without having a final word. 

"Are we," they yawned and rubbed their eyes, "are we… a thing?"

With conviction, he corrected them. "We're more than just a thing, Darlin'. But don't worry about that now." Yawning himself, he laid his head on his pillow and almost knocked out immediately. He was able to hear the last thing they said before succumbing to dreams.

"...love you, David."

'I love you too, Darlin'.'

–

He's a little concerned by the clothes left behind in his living room. Not because David shouldn't be having sex at his age, but because they couldn't have at least cleaned up after themselves? Really?

Carefully walking around the living room to not wake up the younger wolves, he headed to the kitchen to make some food for the two. Knowing those fools, they haven't eaten anything all day, being too busy with other things to remember to eat. Something small would be enough to get them some energy back.

He passed by the pool table, noticing the blanket on top of it. He feared the worst, not wanting to imagine what had happened there earlier. The scratches were too noticeable and the wobbly leg made it all too true. Great, he'll need to call the carpenter to fix the table. Or build him a new one.

It looked like someone else had the same idea, watching David roll out some dough. Love is stored in the pupusa indeed.

"You remember to replace the pork with beef, right?" His voice spooked his son, amused at him jumping 10 feet in the air. It was a little concerning to see him so unaware of his surroundings, it was because it was out of love. Sue him, he's happy that his son is happy. 

"Yeah- yeah, I did." David kept his head turned away from Gabe, most likely out of embarrassment of being caught. 

Satisfied by his answer, he leaned back to observe his son. David seldom cooked, citing a lack of time and energy to do so. That didn't mean that he didn't know the basic recipes, he just never made them. Not that Gabe ever minded, he was always happy to cook for his son. But of course, he'd pick up the knife for Darlin', especially since they could cook up a mean meal whenever they felt like it.

There was another thing that was off. David's hoodie wasn't his. Sure it fit him perfectly, but last time he checked, he went to high school in Dahlia, their mascot was not the Eagles.

"Who's hoodie is that?" He was curious to see where this went, and whether David knew what he was wearing.

David turned back to his father for the first time, looking at him with a confused stare. 

"It's mine, obviously…" His voice trailed off when he looked down, realizing his mistake. David went to Dahlia Collegiate and Technical Institute, and their mascot was the Dire Wolves. He should remember considering how many jokes were made at the pack's expense.

While Darlin' did graduate from DCTI, that wasn't their first high school. Their old school's mascot did happen to be an eagle… And they did like their clothes on the bigger side…

Gabe laughed, watching realization cross his son's face. When before he had some plausible deniability, now it was outright obvious what they had done. Finally.

He walked to David and patted him on the back. "There's nothing to be ashamed about, and I know how long you've been in love with them." He decided not to reveal Darlin's feelings just in case they hadn't confessed yet. Knowing these two, they've probably gone to bed before telling each other how they feel. 

David's shoulder slumped at his father's words. "I know, I know, but I just," he sighed, defeated by his own emotions. "I just don't want to fuck up with them."

"And you won't," Gabe reassured. "You're a good man who wants to do right by them. As long as you follow your heart, you won't mess anything up."

David groaned at the advice. "That's easier said than done," he pointed out. For David, making rational decisions with his head always trumped going with his heart, but unfortunately, love doesn't follow the rules and logic of rationality.

"You need to understand that when it comes to love, neither of you can control everything. A relationship is give and take, sometimes you're in control, sometimes you're not. It's scary, and I know for both of you this sounds like the worst thing ever. But you owe it to each other to at least try." 

The crockpot alarm goes off. "Are you willing to see Darlin' happy with someone else?"

He could see the alarms go off in David. "No-"

"Then try," he pleaded with David. "You both are good for each other. And you both deserve good things."

Walking past David to the crockpot to see if the beef had been cooked properly, he waited for David to come to his own conclusion. It can be tempting to spell out the answers, especially when it's as obvious as this is. But as a father and as Alpha, he needs to make sure that David can make his own decisions and live with those consequences. 

Gabe won't be around forever, and he needed to learn how to be his own man.

Silently joining him, David goes back to rolling out the dough. The determined look on his face was his answer, and he can't wait to see where it will lead.

He leaned over to whisper in David's ear.

"Can you please clean up after yourselves next time? I don't want to see your dirty clothes all over the living room."

Gabe's laughter at the expense of David's humiliation was loud enough to wake Darlin' from his bed.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted fanfic #redacted david #redacted darlin #david/darlin #THE SMUT IS HERE!!! #which means minor pleasee leave!!! #everyone else #enjoyyyy #zo writes tingz #this is zo speaking

[whencyclopedia]

Sioux Warrior Rain-in-the-Face (Eastman's Biography)

Rain-in-the-Face (Ite Omagazu, l. c. 1835-1905) was a Lakota Sioux warrior and war chief during Red Cloud's War (1866-1868) and at the Battle of the Little Bighorn (1876), after which he became famous as the man who killed Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer, his brother Capt. Thomas Custer, or both of them.

How Rain-in-the-Face first became identified as Custer's killer is unclear, but the claim was popularized by the poem The Revenge of Rain-in-the-Face by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow – the bestselling American poet of his age – published in Keramos and Other Poems (1878). Although modern-day writers cite the poem as claiming Rain-in-the-Face killed Thomas Custer, it seems clear "White Chief with yellow hair" (line 9 of the poem) alludes to George Custer, and it is George's heart, not Thomas's, that Rain-in-the-Face rides off with at the end of the piece.

Rain-in-the-Face is best known today from two accounts of his life and the part he played at the Battle of the Little Bighorn – the 1894 report given by American journalist W. Kent Thomas based on an "interview" given at Coney Island, and the 1905 biography by the Sioux author and physician Charles A. Eastman (also known as Ohiyesa, l. 1858-1939) – which contradict each other.

In the Thomas interview, Rain-in-the-Face claims he killed Thomas Custer, cut out his heart, and spat part of it in his face at Little Bighorn as revenge for being unjustly arrested by Capt. Custer in 1874. In Eastman's account, he denies killing either of the brothers and, further, describes the Battle of Little Bighorn as so chaotic no one could have known who they had killed for certain.

As the W. Kent Thomas interview was given after the journalist got Rain-in-the-Face drunk, for the express purpose of getting the "real story" on Custer's death, while Eastman's account is a respectful transcript of the old warrior's life story, the latter is usually understood as more historically accurate.

Text

The following is taken from Eastman's Indian Heroes and Great Chieftains (1916), the 1939 edition, republished in 2016. It has been edited in the interests of space, but the full account will be found below in the External Links section.

The noted Sioux warrior, Rain-in-the-Face, whose name once carried terror to every part of the frontier, died at his home on the Standing Rock reserve in North Dakota on September 14, 1905. About two months before his death, I went to see him for the last time, where he lay upon the bed of sickness from which he never rose again, and drew from him his life-history.

It had been my experience that you cannot induce an Indian to tell a story, or even his own name, by asking him directly.

"Friend," I said, "even if a man is on a hot trail, he stops for a smoke! In the good old days, before the charge there was a smoke. At home, by the fireside, when the old men were asked to tell their brave deeds, again the pipe was passed. So come, let us smoke now to the memory of the old days!"

He took of my tobacco and filled his long pipe, and we smoked. Then I told an old mirthful story to get him in the humor of relating his own history.

The old man lay upon an iron bedstead, covered by a red blanket, in a corner of the little log cabin. He was all alone that day; only an old dog lay silent and watchful at his master's feet.

Finally, he looked up and said with a pleasant smile:

"True, friend; it is the old custom to retrace one's trail before leaving it forever! I know that I am at the door of the spirit home.

"I was born near the forks of the Cheyenne River, about seventy years ago…When I was a boy, I loved to fight," he continued. "In all our boyish games I had the name of being hard to handle, and I took much pride in the fact.

"I was about ten years old when we encountered a band of Cheyenne. They were on friendly terms with us, but we boys always indulged in sham fights on such occasions, and this time I got in an honest fight with a Cheyenne boy older than I. I got the best of the boy, but he hit me hard in the face several times, and my face was all spattered with blood and streaked where the paint had been washed away. The Sioux boys whooped and yelled:

"‘His enemy is down, and his face is spattered as if with rain! Rain-in-the-Face! His name shall be Rain-in-the-Face!'

"Afterwards, when I was a young man, we went on a warpath against the Gros Ventres. We stole some of their horses but were overtaken and had to abandon the horses and fight for our lives. I had wished my face to represent the sun when partly covered with darkness, so I painted it half black, half red. We fought all day in the rain, and my face was partly washed and streaked with red and black: so again, I was christened Rain-in-the-Face. We considered it an honorable name.

"I had been on many warpaths, but was not especially successful until about the time the Sioux began to fight with the white man…

"Some , Crow King, and others.

"This was the plan decided upon after many councils. The main war party lay in ambush, and a few of the bravest young men were appointed to attack the woodchoppers who were cutting logs to complete the building of the fort. We were told not to kill these men, but to chase them into the fort and retreat slowly, defying the white men; and if the soldiers should follow, we were to lead them into the ambush. They took our bait exactly as we had hoped! It was a matter of a very few minutes, for every soldier lay dead in a shorter time than it takes to annihilate a small herd of buffalo.

"This attack was hastened because most of the Sioux on the Missouri River and eastward had begun to talk of suing for peace. But even this did not stop the peace movement. The very next year a treaty was signed at Fort Rice, Dakota Territory, by nearly all the Sioux chiefs, in which it was agreed on the part of the Great Father in Washington that all the country north of the Republican River in Nebraska, including the Black Hills and the Big Horn Mountains, was to be always Sioux country, and no white man should intrude upon it without our permission. Even with this agreement Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse were not satisfied, and they would not sign…

"It was when the white men found the yellow metal in our country, and came in great numbers, driving away our game, that we took up arms against them for the last time. I must say here that the chiefs who were loudest for war were among the first to submit and accept reservation life. Spotted Tail was a great warrior, yet he was one of the first to yield, because he was promised by the Chief Soldiers that they would make him chief of all the Sioux. Ugh! He would have stayed with Sitting Bull to the last had it not been for his ambition.

"About this time, we young warriors began to watch the trails of the white men into the Black Hills, and when we saw a wagon coming, we would hide at the crossing and kill them all without much trouble. We did this to discourage the whites from coming into our country without our permission…

"There were a few Indians who were liars, and never on the warpath, playing ‘good Indian' with the Indian agents and the war chiefs at the forts. Some of this faithless set betrayed me and told more than I ever did. I was seized and taken to the fort near Bismarck, North Dakota of the Long-Haired War Chief and imprisoned there. These same lying Indians, who were selling their services as scouts to the white man, told me that I was to be shot to death, or else hanged upon a tree. I answered that I was not afraid to die.

"However, there was an old soldier who used to bring my food and stand guard over me—he was a white man, it is true, but he had an Indian heart! He came to me one day and unfastened the iron chain and ball with which they had locked my leg, saying by signs and what little Sioux he could muster:

"‘Go, friend! Take the chain and ball with you. I shall shoot, but the voice of the gun will lie.'

"When he had made me understand, you may guess that I ran my best! I was almost over the bank when he fired his piece at me several times, but I had already gained cover and was safe. I have never told this before, and would not, lest it should do him an injury, but he was an old man then, and I am sure he must be dead long since. That old soldier taught me that some of the white people have hearts," he added, quite seriously.

"I went back to Standing Rock in the night, and I had to hide for several days in the woods, where food was brought to me by my relatives…

"In the spring the hostile Sioux got together again upon the Tongue River. It was one of the greatest camps of the Sioux that I ever saw…We had decided to fight the white soldiers until no warrior should be left."

At this point Rain-in-the-Face took up his tobacco pouch and began again to fill his pipe…

"There was excitement among the people, and a great council was held. Many spoke. I was asked the condition of those Indians who had gone upon the reservation, and I told them truly that they were nothing more than prisoners. It was decided to go out and meet Three Stars at a safe distance from our camp.

"We met him on the Little Rosebud. I believe that if we had waited and allowed him to make the attack, he would have fared no better than Custer. He was too strongly fortified where he was, and I think, too, that he was saved partly by his Indian allies, for the scouts discovered us first and fought us first, thus giving him time to make his preparations. I think he was more wise than brave! After we had left that neighborhood, he might have pushed on and connected with the Long-Haired Chief. That would have saved Custer and perhaps won the day.

"When we crossed from Tongue River to the Little Big Horn, on account of the scarcity of game, we did not anticipate any more trouble. Our runners had discovered that Crook had retraced his trail to Goose Creek, and we did not suppose that the white men would care to follow us farther into the rough country.

"Suddenly the Long-Haired Chief appeared with his men! It was a surprise."

"What part of the camp were you in when the soldiers attacked the lower end?" I asked.

"I had been invited to a feast at one of the young men's lodges . There was a certain warrior who was making preparations to go against the Crows, and I had decided to go also," he said.

"While I was eating my meat, we heard the war cry! We all rushed out and saw a warrior riding at top speed from the lower camp, giving the warning as he came. Then we heard the reports of the soldiers' guns, which sounded differently from the guns fired by our people in battle.

"I ran to my teepee and seized my gun, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows. I already had my stone war club, for you know we usually carry those by way of ornament. Just as I was about to set out to meet Reno, a body of soldiers appeared nearly opposite us, at the edge of a long line of cliffs across the river.

"All of us who were mounted and ready immediately started down the stream toward the ford. There were Ogallala, Miniconjou, Cheyenne, and some Hunkpapa, and those around me seemed to be nearly all very young men.

"‘Behold, there is among us a young woman!' I shouted. ‘Let no young man hide behind her garment!' I knew that would make those young men brave.

"The woman was Tashenamani, or Moving Robe, whose brother had just been killed in the fight with Three Stars. Holding her brother's war staff over her head, and leaning forward upon her charger, she looked as pretty as a bird. Always when there is a woman in the charge, it causes the warriors to vie with one another in displaying their valor," he added.

"The foremost warriors had almost surrounded the white men, and more were continually crossing the stream. The soldiers had dismounted and were firing into the camp from the top of the cliff."

"My friend, was Sitting Bull in this fight?" I inquired.

"I did not see him there, but I learned afterward that he was among those who met Reno, and that was three or four of the white man's miles from Custer's position. Later he joined the attack upon Custer but was not among the foremost.

"When the troops were surrounded on two sides, with the river on the third, the order came to charge! There were many very young men, some of whom had only a war staff or a stone war club in hand, who plunged into the column, knocking the men over and stampeding their horses.

"The soldiers had mounted and started back, but when the onset came, they dismounted again and separated into several divisions, facing different ways. They fired as fast as they could load their guns, while we used chiefly arrows and war clubs. There seemed to be two distinct movements among the Indians. One body moved continually in a circle, while the other rode directly into and through the troops.

"Presently some of the soldiers remounted and fled along the ridge toward Reno's position; but they were followed by our warriors, like hundreds of blackbirds after a hawk. A larger body remained together at the upper end of a little ravine and fought bravely until they were cut to pieces. I had always thought that white men were cowards, but I had a great respect for them after this day.

"It is generally said that a young man with nothing but a war staff in his hand broke through the column and knocked down the leader very early in the fight. We supposed him to be the leader, because he stood up in full view, swinging his big knife .

"After the first rush was over, coups were counted as usual on the bodies of the slain. You know, four coups is entitled to the ‘first feather.'

"There was an Indian here called Appearing Elk, who died a short time ago. He was slightly wounded in the charge. He had some of the weapons of the Long-Haired Chief, and the Indians used to say jokingly after we came upon the reservation that Appearing Elk must have killed the Chief, because he had his sword! However, the scramble for plunder did not begin until all were dead. I do not think he killed Custer, and if he had, the time to claim the honor was immediately after the fight.

"Many lies have been told of me. Some say that I killed the Chief, and others that I cut out the heart of his brother , because he had caused me to be imprisoned. Why, in that fight the excitement was so great that we scarcely recognized our nearest friends! Everything was done like lightning. After the battle, we young men were chasing horses all over the prairie, while the old men and women plundered the bodies; and if any mutilating was done, it was by the old men.

"I have lived peaceably ever since we came upon the reservation. No one can say that Rain-in-the-Face has broken the rules of the Great Father. I fought for my people and my country. When we were conquered, I remained silent, as a warrior should. Rain-in-the-Face was killed when he put down his weapons before the Great Father. His spirit was gone then; only his poor body lived on, but now it is almost ready to lie down for the last time. Ho, hechetu! "

Continue reading...

#History #Sioux #RedCloud'sWar #Rain-in-the-Face

[coconutredbulllover]

little rant type shit about azzi and paiges current and kinda future media presences

i think azzis reposts are like her way of letting people know shes gonan be okay without having to be actually present and ibteractive on socials. she was literallt just comibg back from her drought/break/pause (wtvr u wanna call it) and likely wont post for a while because dawg camp and the draft content was like the most we’ve had from azzi in so long. i think shes probably doing alright considering the amount of support shes surrounded by and honestly she didnt really seem like in any hurry to suddenly become active like an instant unpause after not beibg active for so long, like i dont rlly think her being “on a break” was all that deep she was probably convinced to post but didnt really seriously care to upkeep not postibg in the first place so itd be practically no change in her lifestyle to go back to not posting i dont think she was like resisting the urge to post or anything. specifically now post-situation it might not be “i dont psot often but i sometines do wheneveb i feel like it” instead she might purposely stay away and actually jsut take time away from media focus for a little and we’ll get like a crumb once and a while.

and i think paige being active rn is a mix of moving on from the incident and also the fact that the season is over and shes back on media and does like beibg on it like for example on lives and stuff. i feel like shes trying to show that shes moving past it as well as not letting it effect or stop doing what she enjoys. i also think that if paige had gone media silent after what happened it mightve brought even more attention to it with people speculating the effects it had or twitter running wild as it always does. i think her vague-ish thanking for support tweet near when it happened was good because it further fueled people who had been covering the timeline and helped speed up efforts to get tweets taken down but didnt actively add crap tons of spotlight on it. plus her normally posting and tweeting helps spread around what people are focusing on when she appears or if shes mentioned and it js moves the crowd on. we also know shes been described as/has said about herself that shes the type to put on a strong front in stressing times so even if shes beibg active on media and seemingly doing alright she could be doing it for all the reasons i just mentioned about moving the public on (like damage control/reputation padding) and still be literallt depressed behind the scenes and js doing it bc she feels she has to. either way we have no way of knowing whats actually happening and we will probably never know, i can only guess abd assume just as much as everyone else, i could be insanely far off or completely spot on, even if it doesnt match how any of us assume or imagine her acting just remember that we literally do not know any of these people!

i hope things settle and we can see them together again i dont think the situation would have effected their relationship with eachother theyre like ride or die and its not like its their fault it happened. obviously no one wouldvt wanted it to happen but i like to think that behibd the scenes theyre supporting eachother or they could be givibg eachother space but all n all i dont see this being the reason they suddenly drop eachother and i have ful lconfidence theyll come out the other end still side by side.

if anyone has any thoughts or responses feel free to add on or share or if i left smth out or got smth wrong feel free to correct me bc its literallt 6:30 am rn and im suppsoed to be awake in less than 2 hours 🤣🥲

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #azzi fudd #pazzi #rant #my eyes burn #im tired and not at the same time

[jhnnyjstr]

i am winning the idgaf wars when it comes to the magnus protocol bruh.

i cannot get myself to be even remotely interested in this series. im listening out of obligation (number 1 tma fan), but i end up just waiting around for those 20 minutes to end with zero interest. for there to be a sequel to the magnus archives, a podcast with a fully rounded and complete elaborate storyline, it has to justify itself. to me, tmp doesn’t justify itself.

right now, tmp feels like someone going “oh! oh you liked THIS?? you liked THIS PART of tma??? well look at THIS!!!!! this is THAT!!!!!” and it completely flops at it every time. i won’t say its shit, i’ve liked certain episodes and i enjoy some of the characters, but side by side with tma…? come on

part of the beauty of tma is that every episode felt like you were slowly uncovering a plot with the mc. not only that, but characters were gradually introduced, and supplementals didn’t even have proper full character scenes/dialogues until s3, (a little in s2). then look at tmp. the first episode is random characters ive never heard of talking all at once, and this continues for every episode until the current one. i don’t care about any of these characters, and i feel no attachment or ‘riding along with the mc’ feeling with any of them. it feels like a random group of people sprinkled in amongst a vaguely tma-ish plot.

i also hate the attempt to INSTANTLY get into the ‘ooo big background mystery’ when there absolutely hasn’t even been enough context set for that to even matter to the listener. why do i care that gwen is getting promoted? why would any of this sinister secret plot matter to me when i barely understand the way that this institution functions normally? (which i don’t even know the name of, mind you).

you could easily say “but dan!! this will be SHORTER than tma!! its 3 seasons, not 5!!!” think about what was achieved in 3 seasons of tma. by season 3, jon was in his exploration era. he was meeting mike, jude, the monster hunters, gerry, nikola, sarah, he learned about the nature of the entities, we learnt about rituals, learnt that jon wasn’t fully human anymore, hell we even met peter, and we saw elias’ ass being sent to jail!

the pace of tmp is so fast when its plot already bears so little relevance to the listener, and it doesnt help that some of these episodes are, in complete honesty, poor. i find the writing of characters and the interactions between characters rather poor already as well.

im not trying to be harsh, but this is definitely nagging at me. ive been growing fairly irritated with tmp. feel free to disagree obviously, i can see why people would be fans. but it doesn’t hold a candle to tma. im trying reaaaally hard to give it a chance, but im growing more and more disappointed/underwhelmed by the day . pllbbttfhhh . 👎

#sorry guys #im just super underwhelmed #tma #tmp #tmagp #the magnus protocol #the magnus archives #the magnus pod #tma spoilers #the magnus archives spoilers

[feelin-bluu]

You know what…

After a couple hours of reflecting

I do feel better about the ending…

Do I still feel conflicted?

Yes, I do.

But it’s still an ending.

One that was done in Adachitoka fashion.

And no one could ever take that away.

So once again,

Thank you Adachitoka for creating a beautiful story

And give a round of applause and a huge thank you to Fast-Moon for translating these chapters for a long time, your work will forever be recognized and cherished!

And of course, thank you to everyone in this community (active or not) for keeping Noragami alive.

#noragami #thank you #fast-moon #adachitoka #yato #yukine #hiyori #adachitoka when i catch you… #its been a ride and now its come to an end #dont be sad its over for memories will forever remain #idk how the phrase goes lmao #uhh yeah #noragami ending #ending #can’t believe its over #coping right now I dont know what to do with myself #what now #Noragami Season 3 maybe? #It IS the perfect time.. so… maybe. #how are we feeling guys?

[divorcetual]

The meower

#Queued... technically March 23rd? #I mean its march 22nd in oregon. but im not there rn lolz #either way im late. SORRY !! i forfor to queue on the 20th then i was on planes for like 21 hrs total #well no 5 of those were a layover @ the airport but #ANYWAYYYYY hi future me !!! #Howww was the trip? im on my first (second actually- its 4am of the second day if u coukd the arrival) day in Hong Kong #Its rlly hot and humid so I think im gonna die. BUT ITS ALSO SUPER COOL !! #Even just from the few hours I had out earlier its amazingggg. The lights and the buildings are so cool and theres such a fun but chaotic #atmosphere - idk if its just bcs its a big city or specific to HK? #I loveee large cities in general. New york. Tokyo. HK. thats all of the ones ive been to ig #I havent seen even close to all of HK. Im in central rn but we're goin to other parts later #Dad says the other parts are totally different- Like theres LOADS of gisnt buildings here (WAY MORE THAN U SEE IN ******!!! u know that tho #and theyre almost all residential of the ones I passed. Im sure theres offices n stuff i just didnt see them in the likd 20 minutes cab #ride lolz. U know all tuis already tho #ig what im getting at is HOW WAS THE TRIP !!!!! How was the rest of HK? WHAT WAS KYOTO LIKE?? #augh soo many cool things..... #Also also !! Have you learned any mire katakana? #ive JUST learned the vowel line so maybe u lesrned the k line now too? #I cant imagine school is any different. OHH DID U FINISH THE M P 10P COMIC?? #I started it and got abt one page done on the plane #I think it should only end up being two or three pages idk #Ohh !! Hows the new meds going !! I think u should have ur blood test done by now so do u know if it helped at all? #I hope soooooooooooo #Mm I think thats all I have to say .... NO WAIT HAVE U HUNG OUT W/ JACKIE?? #i rlly want to b friends with her ^.^ #Alright Thats all !! HAVE A GOOD DAYYYYYY I LOVE U #queue drop #weather report #WAIT EDIT DID THE TRIGUN VOLUME COME. HOW IS IT

[tonycries]

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

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

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

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

Word count. 8.1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

“Oh? Here with anyone?”

“Yeah.” you blurt out, “Your father.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And oh was it interesting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru.”   

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

Ah, there it was. 

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah! Wha- Sato-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Jealous?”

“Yes.”

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

“Fucking yes.” There it was again. 

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

“What do you-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. Fuck. Wonderful - perfect, in fact.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turning to the mirror and- 

Oh. Shit. 

You better have brought your make-up remover.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he’s cumming. 

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

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

You, at the arm of his father.

Shit, he needs to shower. Again. 

---

Ever since that little incident that night, everything changed. 

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

But that was exactly the problem. 

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

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

But, hey, desperate times bring devious measures.

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

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

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

Knock! Knock! Knock!

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

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

That wasn’t your sugar daddy. 

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

Success. 

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

“Aww, must be some important business.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were the one that-”

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

And then it was like something snapped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit had you said that out loud? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wan’ you to cum, too, Toru.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d make you cum harder.”

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

“So, better than him or not?”

But shit was it hard. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s got you feeling this way?”

“You, Toru.”

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A/N. How we feeling???

Plagiarism not authorized.

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

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Liar, Liar

Joe finds out you've faked it in the bedroom before, and he's determined to make sure you never lie to him again

Warnings: smut (thigh riding, intercourse), language, fluff at the end

"I mean", Sarah paused as she topped off her glass of red wine, the bottle hitting your coffee table with a thump, "there's this expectation that we're just supposed to be at the ready whenever they get home, and sometimes I'm too tired." She sunk into the couch dramatically, her confession earning a couple of hums and nods in agreement from the group.

"Exactly! Like just because you have the stamina of an athlete, doesn't mean I do!", Rebecca chimed in, raising her glass to the group, a few intoxicated chuckles echoing through the living room.

You were tight lipped as you tucked your legs underneath you on the couch, taking a big gulp of your wine as you nervously played with the hem of your sweater.

It was your turn to host the monthly Bengals WAGS get together. It started out as a book club, but quickly became a gossip and venting session where everyone would reveal the things that bothered them about being married or dating a professional athlete. It wasn't really your scene to air out your dirty laundry to anyone outside of your relationship, but you wanted to make friends in the organization, so you offered to bring the alcohol.

"Y/N, you're awfully quiet tonight." All eyes were on you now, and you shrunk under the scrutiny. "Spill it girl, everyone's dying to know how Joe is in bed." Tiffany, the most senior wife on the team, she'd been married to her husband for over a decade, scooted forward towards you. Desperate to change the conversation, you pivoted. "Uh, can I get anyone more wine?" You quickly lifted to your feet and scurried to through the house before anyone could stop you.

"Yeah, baby, how am I in bed?" Joe's voice startled you as you collided with him in the kitchen, Joe catching you at the waist. "Oh my god, don't even start." You playfully slapped him on the chest before pulling away, making him chuckle. You disappeared into the pantry and reemerged with a couple of bottles of wine.

"Where is the bottle opener, babe?" You searched the usual drawer, coming up empty. "Here." Joe approached you from behind, his crotch pressing against your ass as he reached above you to grab the bottle opener. "You better have nothing but good things to say about me", he teased you, a whisper in your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

"That doesn't bother you, that people are asking about something so intimate?" You asked, furrowing your brow as you looked at Joe, who simply shrugged. "I mean, not really. As long as you're not getting too detailed", he smirked at you, making your stomach flutter, "its just your version of locker room talk. Its harmless in my eyes."

You removed the cork from one of the bottles with a large with a loud pop. "So I shouldn't tell them about how you like to-", you gestured at your chest suggestively. "Hey! Those are details." Joe wagged a finger at you, playfully patting your butt as you walked back to the living room.

"Y/N! You're just in time!", one of the other wives perked up as you reentered the room, filling up the glasses before you sat back down. "Oh really?" You weren't sure you wanted to hear what they were talking about to be honest. 'Yes! We've been talking about whether or not we've ever faked it with our guys." She wiggled her eyebrows at you, "you know, in the bedroom."

You choked on your wine, letting out a couple of forced coughs to catch your breath. "I, uh-", you were feeling the pressure to say something memorable. You really hadn't ever faked an orgasm with Joe, but you really wanted to make friends with the other wives, they were your lifeline when you spent a lot of weeks alone. "I'm sure I've done it once before, I just really can't remember." You immediately regretted saying that, your throat going dry.

****

Once all of the ladies had left and you had cleaned up the living room and kitchen, you headed upstairs to get ready for bed. Joe had disappeared at some point during the night upstairs to watch game tape, but when you checked his office, it was empty. You followed the sound of the shower to your bedroom, spotting Joe's pajamas laid out on the bed.

"Remind me to never host a party again", you chuckled, "The wives are something else." Joe barely acknowledged your presence as he walked out of the bathroom, a towel tied at his waist. "I was thinking we could go to brunch at this new place Sarah mentioned." Joe was silent as he slipped a t-shirt over his head. "Joe?"

"I have practice tomorrow", he finally bit out with a sigh.

"I know. I mean after practice. Maybe we could run a couple errands together? Its been a while since we've done that."

"After practice, I have meetings." Even if you didn't know your husband well, anyone could tell that Joe was upset about something.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

Joe let out a curt laugh, louder than intended. "I don't know. You're the one faking orgasms, why don't you tell me?" Joe wasn't boastful, neither in his private life or on the field, but he did have pride, and it was wounded tonight when he heard you telling all the wives how unsatisfied you were with him in the bedroom.

"Joe, listen, I can explain that-"

"How long have you been lying to me?" You knew you had to tread carefully here and make sure you didn't say the wrong thing. "I haven't been lying to you, Joe. You said it yourself, its just "locker room" talk."

"And we agreed, no details! I don't talk to the guys about you like that." Joe sat at the edge of the bed, his brow furrowed in anger. You straddled his lap, raking your hands through his wet hair. "You're right. I crossed a line, it won't happen again, okay? But really, babe, it was nothing." You teased him with a quick peck on the lips, Joe deepening the kiss as he held you in place by the back of the head. You moaned as you felt his tongue roam your mouth, gasping for breath as the two of you made out.

You broke apart out of necessity, your chest heaving as you looked at Joe's baby blue eyes, your faces inches from each other.

"Show me."

You held his face in your hands. "Show you what?"

"When I'm fucking you. Where you're faking it." You groaned as you lifted yourself off of his lap. "Joe, let it go, please." Joe hated losing, always had, and this admission felt like a loss to him. He grabbed your wrist as you tried to walk away, pulling you to stand between his legs. His fingers toyed with the zipper of your jeans before he unbuttoned them, pushing them past your hips and exposing your lace panties. He pressed a kiss just below your belly button, his lips lingering against your skin as you shivered. You stepped out of your jeans, kicking them off to the side.

"If you're not lying, and this is just locker room talk, let me fix whatever's wrong."

The thought of you faking an orgasm truly did upset him, and as much as he hides behind his male bravado, there's something incredibly intimate about being able to truly release for your partner, no holds barred. A level of trust he's worked hard for, and you so easily revealed to be false.

You opened your mouth to speak, but could only let out a gasp as he quickly had you mount one of his large, muscular thighs, his hands holding you down at your hips. You instinctively ground yourself against him, the friction of your panties rubbing against your clit overwhelming. "Joe, I-" you mumbled against his lips as he pulled you in for another kiss, your fingertips digging into his shoulders as you quickened the pace of your hips, alternating between moving back and forth and in lazy circles as your orgasm built in your core.

"It can't be this, baby", he whispered, taking in your face as it contorted with pleasure, "that doesn't look like the face of someone faking it."

"I promise you, I'm not faking it." You bit out, throwing your head back. You pulled your shirt off over your head, your breasts at eye level with Joe. His nose trailed down your front, nestling between your breasts as he laid wet kisses between them. You were quickly coming undone, frantically moving on top of him. He could feel you getting close, your thighs clenching around his leg. "Get on the bed."

You climbed around Joe, lying on your back as he stood, the towel around his waist falling to his feet. The tip of his cock was bright pink and leaking with pre-cum as it rested against his lower stomach. You were salivating at the thought of feeling him on your tongue, but Joe had other plans for you. You felt the mattress dip as he pressed a knee into the bed, moving to position himself between your legs.

He let out a dark chuckle as he stroked himself, watching you wriggle on the bed uncomfortably, desperate to reach your climax. "Were you lying about this part, baby?" You let out a squeal as he drug the head of his cock through your drenched folds, teasing your entrance before pulling away.

"Joe, please", you begged, very aware of how desperate you sounded. You shifted yourself down towards him, growing impatient. "Joe, what?" At this point he was just enjoying toying with you. "Joe, please stop playing around." You could fake with your words all you wanted, but your body gave you away. You were no actor; there was no faking the shaking legs and the heaving chest.

He moaned out as he sunk deep into you, bottoming out as you adjusted to his size, slowly moving your hips around his pelvis. He leaned over, framing your head with his forearms. "You know, I could never fake this with you." He moved to your throat, grazing his teeth against your skin. At this point you were just cockwarming him as Joe pressed kisses to your jawline.

"Joe, please, move. Fuck me, please." You whined in his ear, digging your nails into his back, but he continued to hold you there with his body weight. There's nothing you can do but submit to him and you want nothing more than for him to ravish you, but you can tell he's holding back.

"The way you feel when I'm so deep inside of you." He slowly pulled out before slamming his hips back into you, all of the breath leaving your chest. "All of this is real. Always has been, always will be." He pulls out again, this time pushing himself to the hilt agonizingly slow, so you feel every inch of him.

The pace he set was relentless, his thrusts audible in the room as you coated his cock with your slick, hurdling toward your orgasm. "Fuck, Joe. Fuck, don't stop", you breathed out, your eyes shut tight. You tried to reach down to pleasure yourself, but Joe pounded so roughly into you, you couldn't focus, the circles around your clit erratic, your moans vibrating in your chest. "I'm- I'm, Joe-" you stuttered, gasping for breath, tears welling in your eyes from the intense pleasure. "I've got you, baby. I've got you", he reassured you, seeing you grasp at the sheets to steady yourself.

He studied your face, looking for the sign that you were close. There it was: you scrunched your face tightly, your nose wiggling as your release washed over you, your cushiony walls clenching down around him. He remembered how cute your orgasming face was the first time he saw it, an innocent juxtaposition to the explicit actions happening below.

"Such a good girl. So good, baby." He praised, as each pulse of your muscles pulled him in deeper, making his hips stutter, warmth pooling in his stomach. He continued to fuck you so you could ride your high as long as possible, but you were overstimulated. Joe nestled his face in the crook of your neck, groans leaving his mouth as he felt you tighten around him, and in within seconds he was cuming inside of you, "Oh, fuck, fuck", he cried out as you milked him for every drop of his release.

You pulled him in tight, cradling his head and drawling lazy circles on his back as you both came down from your high. His pants in your ear made you shiver, a giggle slipping from your lips as his cock grazed against your sensitive bud when he pulled out. He pushed away from the bed, resting on his hands, laying to the side of you. He took his time admiring your perfect body, his fingertips dragging along your sensitive skin, your face blissed out and euphoric.

"You know I'd never lie to you, right?", you stroked his cheek with your thumb as he looked down at you. "I love you, Joe."

"I know. I never should have doubted you." He gave you a small smile as he rested his chin on your chest. "Just no more bedroom talk with the wives. Deal?"

"Deal, baby."

Tag-List:

@wonderlandiswhereitsatyo

@bernelflo

@wickedfun9

@brrbrina

@zobellagio

@tallrock35

#joe burrow #joey burrow #joey b #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction #nfl smut

[fakehouseresident]

Tumblr is great because if I go on facebook I have to see a bunch of generic holiday shit and baby pictures

But then I go on tumblr and see tons of "Here are some Sick Strats for dealing with your shitty family members" and "Heres how I'm spiting my aunt who pulls petty crap every year" and "it's okay if the holidays are just endurance for you"

Yall have helped my anxiety so much.

#now i have to go pack for the multiple day event that holidays are for my divorce kid ass #i know its not going to be as bad as im dreading but fuck last year was so damn traumatic #this is the second year ive not been able to drive myself home (due to disability) #so my mom has been on top of figuring out how to get me to come down #meanwhile theres a fucking blizzard outside with 50mph winds #but my aunt and uncle from wisconsin are going to try and come down regardless #so im most likely hitching a ride with them #holidays #im not even christian anymore #my holiday already happened #christmas with my bio family for me is just a delayed yule celebration #i am kind of excited but im also going to be absolutely drained by the end of this #rambley tags

[peterthepark]

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough van sex, dirty talk, analplay, sub!eddie but also very much switch!eddie, lust at first sight, major mutual pining, a sprinkle of perv!eddie but hes sexy so its okay, (1) guest appearance by dustin, post vol. 2 fix-it fic, 7k filth

summary: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van.

a/n: pov vol 2 ended on a positive note and eleven miraculously fixed everything so a freshly-graduated eddie can now live his life to the fullest!!!!!!!! aka what should’ve happened… minors dni. not for u.

It’s rare for Eddie Munson to be roaming the white-picket fence suburbs of Hawkins. It feels like a fantasyland — golden retrievers and tabby cats, designated trash days and bright, green grass full of yellow daffodils, oak trees with makeshift swings and wooden playgrounds built by loving fathers. It’s too perfect, too uncanny, and Eddie knows deep down that he doesn’t belong in such a world as nice as this one. 

But the suburbs of Hawkins are also welcoming.

When he gives Dustin a ride from school to home, when the noon is at its peak, golden rays and soft sprinklers making rainbows rise from the soil, he thinks — for a moment or two — that he belongs. He could if he wanted to. When Henderson invites him over for dinner, or when Harrington needs help fixing his car, when Mike needs relationship advice (as if Eddie could know anything about that) and when Robin wants to know more about Iron Maiden to impress the metalhead ladies, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad on this side of town.

That is until he saw you. And he realized then why everyone called this part of Hawkins a slice of paradise.

Pretty college student. Cut-off shorts from the Gap paired with baggy baseball tees, and a cute nose always stuffed in a romance novel or — some days — a textbook. Glossy lips, adorable socks and checkered picnic blankets where you’d lay out on the too-pristine yard, kicking your legs back and forth as if acting like eye candy was your specialty. 

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins with just enough rough edges to be labelled the girl next door. 

Only, Eddie doesn’t live next door to you. Dustin does. 

“The least you could tell me is her name, Henderson. I don’t want gas money, I want her name. Spelled out for me, syllable by syllable. Government name.” Eddie rambles, shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat as Dustin leans over the passenger window from the outside. “We’re sitting ducks here, man. What if she sees us spying on her damn fence like some creeps?”

The curly-haired sophomore sighs, fingers strung together as he frowns at his older friend, “You are a grown ass man, Eddie. All you have to do is ask her, just say hi, make an impression or something! You can’t just be looking at her from afar everytime you come over, blasting this Metallica shit…”

“You are on very thin ice, boy.” Eddie wags a finger at him, wide eyes bouncing between Dustin and the front of your house. “I don’t know her like you know her. I don’t wanna be weird, especially after just putting all this town satanic cult bull behind my ass. She might think — dammit, I don’t know… I just wouldn’t wanna scare the girl, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, shrugging the thought off with a hopeful smile, “Not this time.”

“Disgusting.” 

He snaps his head towards Dustin, reaching over and rustling the cap on his head with a playful smirk. “You’re disgusting, you fuckin’ booger.”

And as if on cue, like every other day he’s been through this neighborhood, Eddie watches your figure emerge from the porch, picnic blanket and weathered paperback in hand. His jaw goes slack at the image of your denim overall-clad frame, nothing but a bikini-like bra underneath the number while a fresh cigarette dangles from your lips. So much skin — the exposed flesh of your neck, the salty beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone, the cherubic glow of your complexion and the alluring blush of your lips as you sit out on the yard. 

Fuck.

A loud boom pulls the metalhead from his trance. Dustin’s palm comes down against the flimsy van door. “Earth to Eddie? Get a grip, you’re drooling.” 

And all he can really say is: “She’s so damn pretty.”

Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s just really that in-deep with a girl who he has never, ever spoken to. Maybe he’s a pervert rather than a misunderstood freak and this is all just completely wrong of him. But, god, it feels so right to stare. Eddie can’t help it, especially once you catch sight of Dustin and send him an adorable little wave — then your eyes flicker over to Eddie’s dumbfounded expression inside the van, where you wave at him too. 

And the twenty one year-old swears he dies. Right at that moment. His heart skips several beats all at once, possibly even flatlining as a small smile falls upon your graceful features, bursting right out of his chest even as you look away and immediately redirect your attention to the walkman in your pocket like you hadn’t just casually murdered him alive. 

Fuck me, he thinks.

The next time Eddie sees you, he gets a little more than a wave. He’s reveling in this newfound attention as he bounces down the steps of Dustin’s porch and catches sight of you on the other side of the fence, already staring his way before he sends you a nerdy two-finger salute with a close-lipped smile. And just before he reaches the sidewalk, your sweet voice stops him in his determined tracks. 

“Metallica at three p.m. in this neighborhood is a death wish, you know.” 

Eddie turns slowly on his heels, shoes facing you before his whole body follows hesitantly. He’s trying to wipe off that stupid expression on his face, lips parted into a skinny ‘O’ that makes him look like a fish out of water as you finally make eye contact. He heats up immediately from the inside, belly churning and throat tightening when you give him a once over. And it seems like you don’t exactly care for subtlety either — blown pupils raking over his tattooed arms, taking in the torn rips of his shirt-turned-tank-top and the tanlines just above his elbows. 

He hopes you think that the scars on his body are just as badass (if not, more) than his tats. 

Say something. “Didn’t know music was on a schedule.” Eddie manages to follow along with a shrug, lips tugging to the side nervously.

In response, you smile. You fucking smile as if he hadn’t just said the most stupid response ever. It’s gentle, airy, almost effortless as crescent-like lines shape your warm cheeks and you cup a hand over your eyes, adorably squinting through the bright sunlight. “Oh, believe me, I had Iron Maiden on blast one time and ever since then, the whole block has been thinking I’m some sort of cult apologist.”

His heart grows like a balloon filling with helium, voice even going so far to climb several octaves of excitement as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You… you listen to that kind of stuff?”

You play with the lacy strap of your top. You’re beaming widely at him from the other side of the fence. “Do you judge books by their covers, mister?”

“No, ma’am.” Eddie swipes the glistening pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, stifling the grin that threatens to spread across his mouth. Sheepish, he shakes his head. “I think I underestimated you then. I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding. Seriously though, I have a bunch of mixtapes back in my room. Ozzy, Dio, some Sabbath. No one really gets it, but you… you seem like you do.”

And Eddie wonders: could you get any more damn perfect? The suburban denim dream, the girl next door, the quintessential concoction of every teenage boy’s fantasy and every teenage girl’s desire… listens to metal music? And not just AC/DC or KISS (because everyone loves those guys), but the same music he’s grown up with and loved? 

He can’t help but picture you in your bed, records spread out across your comforter as you switch between Dream Evil and Peace of Mind. Your limbs stretched out on the mattress, shirt riding up with nothing but black panties underneath as you rock out to his favorites. 

Yeah. He’ll think about that one a lot.

“I definitely get it. I do, I really do. I love metal.” Eddie rambles, hoping to keep your attention by stalling this conversation as much as possible. You nod at him with those big, innocent eyes and roll your fleshy lip between your teeth, keen to every stupid word that falls from his tongue. “But hey, it can be our little secret, then.” He leisurely gravitates towards the van while you match his strides, taking note of his quavering pitch and the use of Eddie’s own hands waving through the air wildly as he attempts to withhold his nervousness. “And again, just for peace of mind, I didn’t mean to judge. I figured…”

“Madonna?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. Feels the anxiety in his stomach build even more. “Nothin’ wrong with Madonna, though. Sexy tunes. Can’t deny that.”

Sexy tunes. Come on, Munson.

But that draws a giggle right out of you, “Sexy tunes, indeed.” Then, you’re both leaning against the side of his van. No fence or Dustin coming between the two of you, just your sweaty bodies and Hawkins’ summer heat seeping through your thin clothes. You hold your palm out, fingers welcomingly outstretched. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

Eddie’s gaze bounces from your smaller hand to the doting expression on your face before gingerly enveloping it in his own. “Eddie. Edward. E-Eddie. You can…” You give him a gentle squeeze, a sure smile dusting over your lips. “You can just call me Eddie, or whatever. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

“Well,” You laugh again, and Eddie blushes profusely at the lighthearted noise. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Whatever.” You share another one of those looks, and he swears that this time — this time, your eyes do all the talking that needs to be done. “I think we’ll get along really well… Eddie.”

His name has never sounded so perfect out loud.

Eddie sees you again. 

And again. Every time he drops Dustin off. Again. Leant against the side of his van. Talking and talking, until there’s nothing to talk about — but it’s rare. He always has something to talk about, even when his voice fails him and he stutters or stumbles over syllables because you’re so fucking pretty and he’s… he’s just Eddie. But you see him differently than the others, so he supposes that maybe being “just Eddie” isn’t such an awful thing after all. 

Again, you talk. The sidewalk. Along the road. On your lawn. Sometimes, Eddie will even join you on your blanket, skim through your books and take note of what you read, then he’ll recommend “true” literature like Lord of the Rings or something else with elves and witches. 

Summer has never felt so long. 

Again.

Until again becomes every afternoon. Even on the days Dustin doesn’t need a ride home anymore. Even on the days he has to practice with his band at four, but he can always just come see you at three and drive back because it’s no big deal. Even on the days your parents say you need to stop talking to that Munson boy because he’s no good, but who fucking cares? 

Again, anyways.

You’re not scared of him. He’s not scary. He never was.

And so afternoons turn into nights. And nights consist of sneaking out to Eddie’s van that he’s parked a few houses down the street, because God forbid he talks to the innocent girl next door. Innocent is one fat hoax. You’re smoking pot with him in the back of his fucking van for Ozzy’s sake, giggly and unrelenting as you sit next to each other and drench yourselves in the scent of weed and Eddie’s drugstore cologne while Metallica plays faintly in the background.

He’s all man, but soft with his eyes. Soft in the way he looks at you. Crude in the way he secretly desires you. Now that he knows you, really knows you, you aren’t just beautiful. 

You’re completely devastating. 

You take a long drag of his joint, wincing as the paper sizzles and burns orange. “Fuck, I wish I tried getting high sooner. You’re a horrible influence, you know that?”

Eddie hums with a toothy grin, fiddling with the pair of flimsy headphones in his lap. “And yet you still meet me back here every night.”

“Why do I even do that?” 

“Um, ‘cause I got, like, really fucking good ‘A’ quality weed and impeccable taste in music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, eyes following the mold of your lips around the bud. “Easy there, tigress. Don’t hog it.”

“You said…”

“I said, you could have one hit. And now, I’m confiscating it.”

You groan in protest as Eddie leans over to your side of the van and snatches the blunt from you, tossing it into a mushroom shaped ashtray as he gazes at you curiously. “Since when did you become so mean to me?”

“Weed is meant to be treasured, Y/N. And plus, I’m always mean.”

He has to admit — there has been tension between the two of you ever since your afternoon catch-ups turned into late night talking. Maybe he’s imagining it, but surely you feel it too. The bubbling in his stomach when your elbows brush in such a confined space. The heat rushing to his cheeks when you laugh and place a hand on his thigh, or the dizzy rush flooding your forehead when he picks a flyaway strand of hair off of your shoulder. The increase in your heartbeats as you stare at each other for a minute too long, even sneaking in a second glance because you just have to. 

“You know what you should treasure?” You quirk a brow at him. A smirk tugs upon your lips as you dig through your pocket and pull out a cassette tape, shaking it in front of Eddie’s face. “This week’s mix I made you.”

“My mix is better.” He flicks his walkman open, switching out the tape inside for the one you hand him. “Here’s yours, ma’am.”

And he supposes that no one really expected that his friendship with the girl next door would be founded on trading music with each other. Ever since you and Eddie found out your tastes were in alignment, you made it a goal to introduce new songs to him — Madonna included. Sexy tunes. 

You think he could get used to the oddity of The Cure. He thinks he can convince you that Guns N’ Roses will eventually be a rock sensation. You’re skeptical. Maybe.

So you marinate in each other’s stagnant presence, leaning on opposite walls of his metal tin can of a van, holding your own walkmans with ears caressed by Koss headphones and lids shut as your heads bob to the acoustics. Eddie can’t help but crack an eye open, sneaking a peek at your chewed lip and your look of concentration. 

“I like this one.” You pipe up, feeling his stare on you. He glances away before you can actually catch him, training his gaze on the mess of blankets behind the driver’s seat. “You know, your choices this week are very interesting, Munson.”

Suggestive. His choices are suggestive, is what you’re thinking. From the first to the last track, the list of songs messily etched onto the cassette with the most boyish handwriting you’d ever seen, you can only hope that the metalhead holds some sort of attraction for you in the same manner you do for him. 

Eddie chuckles, and winces apologetically at you. “I still hate The Cure, by the way.”

You nod unconvinced, and pull one of the cups of your headphones away from your ear. There’s a smile of amusement, an interested dimple in your cheek. “And yet you included The Perfect Girl on here?” 

“Only because it made me think of you.”

For once, he realizes that he has flustered you. Your jaw goes slack, your pupils widen, brows softening before your nose crinkles at him. “Shut up, Eddie.”

His palms raise in a peaceful surrender, ringed fingers wiggling adorably. “You asked, Y/N.” A beat. Then you’re playfully throwing a jacket at his face and squealing before he instinctively lunges forward at you, gentle hands pulling you back by the elbows. Despite the struggle, eventually he’s pinned to the floor of the van and you’re on top of him straddling his soft belly. “Get off, you monster!” He near-giggles, sputtering as his hair gets into his mouth and he feels your body racking with laughter. 

“You’re so rude to me. Like the rudest. When has The Cure ever hurt you?” You pant out, chest rising and falling steadily as you both catch your breath. Eddie’s headphones haphazardly hug his head, walkman in the palm that rests above him. “Do you treat your girlfriend this way, hm?”

“No girlfriend.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mmm, I thought it was obvious.” He replies quietly, the sound comes out more like a soft moan rather than an agreement. His plushy lips are wet with saliva, tongue poking between the pink flesh as his eyes flicker from your parting mouth to your curious, swirling irises. “S’why I’m here with you.”

“So I’m the second choice is what you’re…”

“Please, you are farthest from the second choice, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, ribs rumbling against his torso. Only then does he become hyper aware of the way your breasts push up against his shirt, the warmth of your skin intermixing with his, your nipples hardening against the thin white fabric of your camisole. Sweetheart, you repeat. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. “Do you have one?”

“A girlfriend?” You ask, tone playful and curious.

Careless Whisper echoes through his headphones; your mixtape is still looping through his walkman as you trail your fingers down his wrists and brace yourself on his chest. 

Fucking hell. It’s ironic. It’s pathetic. George Michael needs to shut up. Why is this damned song on here? He’s struggling to think, struggling to focus on the words coming from your mouth, struggling to keep it in his pants because you keep shifting farther and farther away from his stomach, and more and more towards his crotch. Focus. Tune out that stupid saxophone.

“Sure.” He shrugs breathlessly, tingling with anticipation. 

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet, no. Why is this a conversation, Eddie?” You bite your lip cheekily, knees planted firmly on either side of his lean body when you gaze down at him then survey the still-lit joint resting on his ashtray. Silence, then: “Can I have a hit? Please?”

Eddie glances at your lips, fixating on how your tongue darts out to lick at the sticky gloss. The moonlight casts a glow over your frame, highlighting the path of your curves through your tank top. And without really taking his eyes off of your beautiful face, his fingers reach for the blunt, a blush spreading across his chiseled cheeks when your hand brushes against his to grab it. 

Please.

A sizzle rustles through the heavy air as you take a slow drag.

And Eddie can’t help himself. Not this time.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You’re slowly tossing the perfectly-good blunt aside, leaning down and lazily grabbing Eddie gingerly by his chin. 

He thinks you’re gonna kiss him.

And before he can lift his head to meet you, instead, you’re blowing a puff of smoke between his parted lips with an exhale. “Fuck… ing… heck…” He instantly groans, eyelids drooping as your ass pushes against him teasingly like you hadn’t just shotgunned into his goddamn mouth. Party trick. You flutter your lashes bashfully, dimples poking at your cheeks as Eddie gapes at you just inches away from your face. “Y/N, where the fuck did you… learn that?”

You sigh. “Eddie Munson, you just keep on underestimating me.” 

“I really do, I really fucking do…” He huffs, knuckles turning white around his walkman as you sensually tug his headphones off. “I just — just thought you were…”

“Innocent? Oblivious? I may be your girl next door fantasy… or whatever the fuck you Hawkins boys think about me…” You smirk, taking Eddie’s much-larger hands into yours and placing them firmly on your hips. “… but I am not fucking blind… you’ve been acting so off this entire night, must need something to take the edge off, don’t you?”

Fucking Ozzy. He can’t take it. His lips tug into a wince. “That easy, huh?”

Red-handed, you coo. “The easiest.”

“So technically you’re calling me easy, then?” Eddie jokes, heart pounding against his chest as he tenderly digs his fingertips into your love handles.

This is what he’s wanted. This is it. 

And it’s not a fucking dream at all. It’s absolutely heaven. 

Just like heaven.

“Eh, I think it’s endearing. The way you…” He curses under his breath as you lean over and trail your mouth up his jawline, biting his earlobe. “… savor me… savor looking at me. The way you think I don’t notice your stare, when your eyes wander a couple inches down whenever I talk? Oh, you think you’re so slick. I’m not naïve. Why do you think we hang out in your van at night?”

He shudders when your teeth find the cool surface of the guitar pick around his neck. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”

“And you’re horny, but maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”

“No, definitely…” Eddie laughs nervously, swallowing as he looks down at you. “Definitely not. I’m… fuck, I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Or, maybe I should.” Back and forth banter. It’s natural with you. Too natural, almost like it has always meant to be like this between the eager pair of you. You don’t kiss him, not yet. He can wait. “Acting like a gentleman, like my friend, when in reality you can’t help but think of banging me everytime we see each other?”

“M’sorry, okay? We are friends — fuck, Y/N. Can’t focus… can’t exactly t-talk when you’re on my lap like that.”

Heat pools to his lower stomach, breaths quickening as his hands mindlessly drift down to your upper thighs, squeezing your skin through your little shorts when you grind against him. “Like this? How does it feel? Touching me, feeling me on you like this?”

Eddie’s eyes are dark, almost black in the dim shadows of his van. He looks up at you with the most dilated, entranced look, and you swear it almost makes you break. “Feels… feels so nice. Warm. I just… fuck, I don’t… don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do… Y/N, goddamnit…”

“I think it’s both clear what we want, no?” You press a kiss to his cheek, running your thumb along the skin beneath his lower lashes. His self-control is slowly diminishing, inch by inch, he feels himself melting in your presence. “I stare, too, just so you know. I stare a lot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lifts a shaky hand, nervously cupping your jaw and nudging his nose against yours. His voice ghosts your skin, raspy and more of a whimper than a command. “Tell me about it.”

Your mouth hovers over his, lips barely brushing against each other. Touching, touching, touching, only to pull away at the very last second. He can almost just taste the marijuana from your tongue, almost taste the honey dripping from your voice as you peck the corner of his lips. Almost. “I look at your arms, and your really cool tattoos, then I picture… where else you have them on your body…” You gasp into his ear as his hips rut into you, his fingers drawing shapes against the side of your face. “Picture your lips on my chest… kissing me, leaving marks… bruises, hickies, whatever you want, Munson. Your mouth between my — my thighs… tugging on your hair because you’d be so good to me, wouldn’t you?”

“M’want you so bad. You don’t know the half of it.” He whispers, stroking a knuckle across the shadow of your cupid’s bow. “Please… let me… fuck, let me kiss you. Please, Y/N. Want it so bad. Been wanting you ever since summer started. Makin’ me crazy, got me feeling like I’m insane with the way I just… just obsess over us.”

He’s earned it. 

“Like I said, whatever you want.” You grin devilishly.

Eddie’s lips finally collide with yours, erotically wet and far from smooth. It’s incongruous, sweaty skin rubbing against each other and clothes rustling as Eddie sits up, your arms swaddling his lanky frame while you crane your neck to kiss him deeply. His hair is in your mouth, his nose smushed against the side of your face, strained groans slipping from his throat as he traverses down your neck, selfishly licking the divot of your collarbone before his palms are venturing under your camisole. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whines, lashes fluttering against your thin bra as he pulls your top over your head. He’s mouthing at the cups, biting at the stringy lace of your push-up before he’s tugging the material down to reveal your nipples. “I just… fuck, I’m just in awe of you. You’re the perfect girl, and I get to have you.” He wraps his lips around the hardened bud, moaning as he alternates between the two and litters your flesh in dark hickies. You fist his hair, caving into his frame. “You’re so sexy. Just… fucking… took the words out of me, leavin’ me speechless… I’ll make you feel so f-fucking good if you let me.”

Your head rolls back as he kisses up the underside of your chin, meeting your lips in a more tender kiss. Your nails trail underneath his Iron Maiden ringer tee, lightly tracing over the raised scars on his abdomen, his belly, skimming over his sparse happy trail and the subtlety of his v-line. “You’re all talk, Eddie… wanna make me feel good?” He nods meekly, the veins in his neck flexing as you stroke his brow bone. “Think you should start by undressing me…”

“Christ, please.”

And without a beat, Eddie’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside so that it lands over the back of the driver’s seat. He kisses his way down your belly, the little pudge when you sit, only for him to lay you down on your back, clumping up a bunch of jackets to make a pillow for your head. His fingers unbutton your shorts, tugging them down the length of your legs with your panties until they get caught on your Chucks. 

He takes those off too. Quite frankly, chucks the Chucks across the van with a squeaky mutter of ‘goddamn shoes…’  before he’s pocketing a lineup of chunky rings into his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth makes up for the dorky mishap, his lips make haste against your tender calves, biting the squish of your thighs and nudging his nose against the glossy patches of arousal on the inside of your skin. He inhales the scent of your cunt, and you jerk with a moan of surprise as he kisses you there, open and fluttering for him while he lays on his stomach.

He’s never seen such a pretty pussy. It emboldens him, leaves him brazen and aching for more even though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you this naked. Even though he’s barely even had you, he still needs more.

“Need you so bad it hurts.” Eddie growls, looking up at you with a smirk as you gnaw on your bottom lip. “You’re just… fuck, how did you get this wet? God, you’re unreal, baby… let me? Please? Let me… let me eat it… I’ll do anything…”

Let me. Let me. Let me. It’s his mantra. You’d be lying if you deny that it stirs something animalistic within you.

You nod violently, biting down on your forefinger as he props you up against the wall of the van and parts your knees even further before he’s shoving his face into you. Your hands dart straight into his curls again, pulling and tugging until you’re holding him by a wiry ponytail, watching the eager way he suckles at the bundle of nerves just at the apex of your sex. 

Eddie feels like a fucking virgin. Desperate. Impatient. Aggressive. He’s too excited — it displays itself when he slips two digits into your needy slit, taking in how you instantly buck against him. You need him. Need him in the same manner he needs this. His ego fires up as he drives his fingers further, running his tongue over and back and down your clit until your grip on his hair becomes suffocating.

“Having fun down there, h-hm?” You croak. Even with his head buried between your thighs, you’re mischievous, challenging, witty. He’d fuck the brains out of you if he could, but honestly, he isn’t even sure if he could survive one second with his cock in your little fist. “Fuckkk. You’re makin’ me feel so good, Eds…” Your head hits the metal wall, a soft bang that goes unnoticed with all the squelching and creaming as Eddie scissors his fingers. 

“You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect, I love the way you look right now, s’fucking hot… could cum just by watching you.”

“Yeah? Just wait — just fucking wait till I suck you off.”

Eddie can’t wrap his thoughts around it. His tongue, his hands, where he’s buried inside you. He’s wanted this, ever since the start of summer, and he’s here with the girl he thought was untouchable — the perfect girl with a perfect, filthy secret that is him. 

You’re grinding your mound against his mouth, quivering jaw unhinged in the darkness of his large van. His eyes flicker up to your tits, slick with his spit and your own as a dribble of saliva falls from your lips, tainting your skin. 

For once, you aren’t put-together. He’s ripping your façade apart at the seams and leaving nothing to sew back.

“You’re a fucking mess, Y/N… oh, I do this to you?” He’s touching you till you’re vibrating and mewling. He’s lapping every drop of you up, tasting you permanently on his lips as he prods at your clit. “Fuck, honey…” Eddie bites you, hard enough to nurse a bruise on the inside of your thigh. “Please cum for me, yeah? Jus’ look how wet I’ve gotten you, sweetheart… you’re practically — oh, my god… you’re practically gaping… you wanna cum that bad?”

You really can’t help it. Not when he’s cooing at you with that whiny voice, teasing and suggestive as your cunt spasms over his pink knuckles. Your hips rise from the carpet flooring, and Eddie leaves another bite-mark on your stomach as slick trickles out of you. You don’t moan. You don’t scream, nor cry. Just a broken whimper and a restrained, quiet utterance of Eddie’s name beneath your breath. 

Somehow, it makes his cock pulse even harder.

He gently kisses your cunt, running a soothing tongue over the bruises he’s left and the dip in where your hip meets your thigh. “Fuck, that was hot.” He smells the aftermath of your orgasm, really smelling you this time, and it ends up driving him nuts. “Oh, Y/N… your pussy…” You follow his gaze, letting out a lewd sound as Eddie admires the puffiness of your folds, swollen and open from his work. You jolt as soon as he tries to spread you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, d-didn’t mean to get so damn rough with you. You tasted so fucking nice, s’all.”

“No, I…” You brush his hair away from his face, pushing his bangs aside as he sits up and wedges himself between your knees. “I love rough. I can take it. I can take this.” Your other hand palms him through his jeans, before you’re dipping yourself beneath his waistband, hairs prickling at your skin as you grasp him. “Do you want me to be rough with you, Eds? Because I just… I really, really want your cock, and I… I dunno if I can hold myself back…”

“Oh, you little slut.” He gasps brazenly as you pull his shirt off, eyes wide at your sudden conviction for him, “Take it. Take me, Y/N. I’m all yours, whatever you fucking want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You smirk, helping him kick off his jeans and boxers. Your cunt pathetically gapes for him once he’s bare, contracting around nothingness as Eddie takes your place against the wall. He leans back, and you just stare — drinking him in the same way he drinks you in. Your puffy nipples, still damp from his spit, your darkened neck a testament to his artistry, your mouth parting in awe as you fit his erect cock into your hand. Barely.

He’s big — lengthwise, and it curves heavily in your grasp as you lean down to pop him between your lips. Eddie nearly knees you, palms flying to cover his face as he desperately cries your name. “Y/N… oh, f-fucking… oh, Jesus…” You rake your nails up and down his thighs, licking a stripe up his manhood as you play with his sopping tip.

You chuckle in amusement around him, “Such a leaky cock. You like that, Eds? Mmm, you messy boy. All this pre-cum and I’ve… aw, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me what feels good, ‘kay?”

“S’all of it… all of it is — it’s good… fuck, words are so… words…” He melts even more as you sheathe him into your mouth, stuttering as he feels you hold back a gag. Your whole body convulses, back arching upwards as Eddie watches you take and take and take. “Oh, Y-Y/N… you just keep — keep getting better and better. Holy shit.” His belly aches with desire, tightening with each bob of your head and every seductive blink of your eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Thought about you.. whenever you’d — mmm, whenever you’d lay out on that darn lawn, what if I took you right there? What if I just… fucked you on that grass…”

“You and your dirty mouth, Munson.” You glare up at him in feigned annoyance, jerking his shaft with fast, purposeful movements. “I think it’s funny… how you pretend like you’re such a nice guy when really, you’re only a perv for me.”

“So what? Are you gonna punish me?” He challenges beadily, tongue poking out between gritted teeth like he could win this fight. “Or are you gonna fuck me, pretty girl?”

And just like that, the air changes. He feels the shift, the veil that falls over your eyes, nothing but sex and his scent running in your mind.

“No, Eds.” You move to straddle his thigh; your bare cunt dragging against his scarred skin. “I’m gonna make you beg.” 

You take him into your fist again, stroking him between the generous suction of your lips and the sweep of your tongue. He tastes good to your surprise, and then you’re creating a pool of spit that trickles from his abdomen to his balls. 

Messy girl. “Christ, Y/N.”

You release him with an erotic pop! — there’s stringy saliva connecting you to the crown of his cock, your throat is raw, his dick impatient, twitchy and excited. “You wanna fuck me so bad, you can’t even think straight. Look at my hand right now, look how tiny it looks when I hold you…” You grind yourself against his knee, groaning with him as you quicken your pace. Your brows furrow, a wicked grin ghosting itself over your features. “Baby, are you going to cum already?”

“Y/N, don’t s-stop. I’m beggin’ you, please…”

“Oh, you’re begging? This is what you call begging?”

“Please, s’too hard.”

“Too hard? What’s too hard? Me not letting you cum, or…” You give him one good jerk, twisting your fist so that your thumb brushes over his white-coated tip. “… your cock? Because you’re awfully, awfully rock hard right now. I bet it hurts doesn’t it, my love?” My love. His eyes gloss over. Your mouth hugs the shell of his ear. “You wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes…” He near-whimpers. Desperate. “Wanna cum so badly.”

“No.”

You release him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His climax dwindles back to square one, and his leg thrashes out in dismay. There’s sweat beading down your forehead, drops forming on Eddie’s brow bone as he scowls at you. 

You kiss him, almost like an apology, but Eddie can tell you’re not sorry. Far from it. You enjoy this, enjoy getting him off just to start over and make him beg. Is it so sick that he likes it? The more you stretch this interaction out, the more he gets to touch you. Like now, as you swing your knees on either side of him, his palm gingerly clasping the nape of your neck as he presses your face to his.  

“Let me fuck you? Let me be inside?” He pleads, nudging his nose against yours in anguished yearning. He drags his hand over your cheek, enveloping your jaw with outstretched fingers. “Just wanna bury myself inside you and stay there. Don’t even wanna cum anymore, I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good, m’not pathetic like the other guys… wanna feel you jus’ dripping on me, Y/N.”

You don’t answer, just gasp into his parted mouth as you line each other up. The angry head of his cock catches on your swell, snagging your clit before his tip lodges itself inside you and he — quite literally — goes rigid. You curse, slowly sinking down his length until your pussy refuses to take more. 

“You’re s-so big.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to fucking burst. “Sweetheart,” He pants, panicked and frenzied as you squeeze around him. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, arms thrown around his body as he tangles his slender fingers into your scalp and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest. “Sweetheart, I can feel every p-part of you… you’re so — fuck, just like that, you wet messy thing.” He whines, the curve of your ass coming down against his lap as you keenly bounce on his cock. He meets you with gentle thrusts, your cunt already milking him thin. “Look at you, fuck, you’re loving this.”

“E-Eddie…” Your tits are squished against his pecs, his necklace sandwiching itself between your damp skin. “More. More. Give it…”

“You can’t take it, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it. I can. It’s not enough, I’m telling you.” You rut your hips stubbornly, guiding his palms to your waist before he’s carefully rolling you onto your side and hiking your calf over the tender slope of his shoulder. “S’not nearly enough, Eds.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply as he slips himself deeper inside you. The stretch stings harshly, flashes of white prickling at the cones of your vision as he splits you raw and wide open. “Is this enough? You fuckin’… god, you perfect whore…” Your spine tingles as Eddie tugs you closer by the hip, ramming himself into you relentlessly. “… such perfect tits, a perfect leaky cunt…” He presses a kiss to your ankle, before flipping you onto your knees so that he can fuck you from behind. He wants to see you, see you flutter for him, feed his sick thoughts and relive the nights where he jerked himself off in this very van in empty parking lots to the idea of you. “… and this perfect ass… another hole waiting to be used, right, Y/N? You’d let me use it, wouldn’t you? If I’m nice enough, I bet you’d let me fuck it…”

Fucking hell.

You cum as soon as he dips the pad of his thumb against the responsive ring of muscle. You both grow feral at the sensation. Soaked. Pussy chafed raw from his cock. You can’t tell whose fluids are whose, if it’s Eddie’s spit or yours, if it’s your juices or his — the embarrassing manner in which your cunt just sucks him in, the tight walls of your ass fluttering around his gentle finger as he drives into you.

How is the van still upright? Eddie doesn’t know. 

He’s an Ozzy clusterfuck of strangled, broken sounds and you’re a broken record player of Eddie-Eddie-Eds-Please, I’m cumming!

He doesn’t stop. Even when you’re shaking and bent-half in now missionary, he sheathes himself inside you till his pelvic bone is crushed to your body. “You feel so good, I’m sorry… I can’t — can’t stop, baby…”

“Don’t. Don’t stop, it’s a-alright.” You heave out, interlocking fingers as his glistening cock disappears into your used cunt. “It’s a l-lot, but it’s okay.” Eddie’s body engulfs you, your heels digging into the dimples in his lower back as he pounds into you. “You’re such a good — good boy, fuck…”

“Yeah?” He bites your throat. “Say.” The under-swell of your boob. “It.” Your arm. “Again.”

“Good boy. Such a good boy, fucking me the way I deserve.”

“Fucking you like you’re a slut.”

“Fucking me like I’m not the girl next door…” You chuckle, breathy and airy before he knocks the wind right out of you. “The whole town is gonna call me a w-whore for once.”

“Suits you better.”

You swear your soul leaves your body. You’re dying. You are dead, nearly limp in his fumbling boyish hands as he cradles your head against his chest and wipes the sweat from your eyes like he loves you. His balls slap against your loosened rim, his thumb putting pressure on your clit until you’re frantically pushing him away. 

“I can’t cum again. I can’t.” You sob in pleasure, clawing at his tattoos as if they could save you from his insatiable hunger. “Eddie!”

“Need it, need your cum again, Y/N.” Eddie growls, thrusts stuttering and cock pulsating wildly before he’s spitting onto your sex as if you needed to be any more wet. “I-I think you’re so… so fucking cool, you’re just… you’re too good for me, but I fucking adore you.”

I adore you.

I adore you.

You can’t even talk anymore, vocal chords ripped right out of your throat as your stomach cramps, cramps, cramps and then drops to a low point. Crashing. Flatlining. Clenching hopelessly.

You nearly choke Eddie as a hand flies out to touch him, pulling him close as your walls trap him for a second time. Only now, he’s locked in tight, unable to move, unable to go anywhere and he fucking cums immediately because it’s just too inviting. You feel him seeping out of you, painting your holes with his sticky cum as he stills there like a good boy. He grunts against your lips, kissing you poorly as his orgasm eats him alive. 

He’s milked. Spent. 

Eddie collapses on top of you, one leg jutted straight and the other bent as he embraces you close with his whole weight resting on your frame. How can he already miss something he just had? Gaining your strength, you kiss down his shoulder, fingertips swirling over muscle and scar tissue and ink as the smell of him floors you.

It’s so Eddie. Woody, earthy, with a spicy fresh top note reminiscent of oak moss and a hint of gasoline, dry cedar and herbs. It makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He’s drenched in the girlish smell of sex, sweat and salty but you’re eager to taste him anyways.

My good boy, you think. 

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out raspy and winded, almost sickly but Eddie knows it's a good-sick. 

“Yes, yeah. I just… need a sec.”

“Hm, don’t take too long, Munson.” Shit. Is this over already? Just like that? “Might get wet again.”

Oh. It’s a joke. 

And he laughs, wheezy and exhausted as he irritatedly tugs his own hair out of his mouth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, ma’am.” He leans back on his hinges to properly look at you, your cheeks rubbed red-raw from his teeth and your abused, achy cunt still stuffed full of his prick. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

“Barely.” You repeat heartily, shaking your head at him with a look of bewilderment. “S’gonna hurt when you pull out, you know.”

“Are you telling me to stay here forever?”

“If you admit that you like The Cure, then yes…” You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against his wrist. “… I’ll let you stay there forever.”

Forever. You both push down the giddy, cheesy smiles that threaten to spread across your faces. 

“Never. Never ever.” Eddie chuckles. When he tenderly and patiently pulls out, a wet rush slowly floods out of you, his fingers frantically plug you shut — his thick, translucent cum dripping from his knuckles as he selfishly fucks his hot spill back into you like the perv he is. “But that can stay there forever.”

A freak, but not in the way Hawkins thinks.

You melt at the feeling, limbs spasming awkwardly as he spreads himself over your pussy distractedly. His eyes are so goddamn soft, kind, attentive — even when he’s pushing some of it into your poor asshole, he’s still the sweetest guy you’ve ever hooked up with. 

He kisses your clit before he lovingly hikes your panties up your legs. 

Fucker.

“Did I ruin you, sweetheart? Awfully quiet.”

You scoff, shimmying into your shorts and camisole as Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers. “Just wondering how you expect me to climb back into my window after all that.”

“Who said anything about climbing…” He laughs boisterously, leaning over and fixing the strap of your bra. “What do you say I walk you to the porch, ring that bell and introduce myself to mom and pop?”

You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not, Eddie Munson.”

He finds himself liking the suburbs a lot more.

Only this time, he doesn’t imagine himself surrounded by picket fences and golden retrievers, mailboxes with his last name painted in unreadable cursive or having to mow his front lawn at seven in the fucking morning. 

Eddie doesn’t need to when Hawkins’ slice of paradise is just next door. 

And he gets to taste it every fucking day and night. 

So, fuck it. He’ll climb your window so you don’t have to wobble back to your house with his cum dripping down your leg. He’s a gentleman, railing you in the abandoned parking lot of Starcourt because you can’t handle the embarrassment of getting caught by someone at home. He’ll cover your mouth in the shed in your backyard so the neighbors don’t complain about the howling coyotes that have gone loose in the neighborhood. 

God forbid they have coyotes, right? 

But really, they should be worrying about the devastatingly gorgeous girl next door and her favorite, good boy with a dwindling hatred for The Cure.

Even though, the album is growing on him.

He’ll never admit that, though.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things season 4

[demetris-cocksleeve]

"Jasper teaching Y/n how to ride him"

I ask, with all the love in my dirty, perverted heart. Fix it.

I ain't even gonna ask anonymously, because you know who it's gonna be.

(A/n: Your wish is my command~ (aka I'm lowkey scared of your wrath))

(Not proofread)

Word Count: 1,832

Summary- It's only fair that the cowbody gets cowgirled (Alternatively: TIME TO EAT, SLUTS🚨)

Warnings: Inexperienced reader, Creampie, Jasper calls reader "Darling," "Doll," and "Sugar" (I think there's one more, but I can't be bothered to scroll through and find it.) (It's not a missed warning - It's simply a surprise cunt throbber) (...sorry...)

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

(This specific gif is a lil inside joke, dont worry abt it lol)

Jasper Whitlock x Fem! Reader: Most Dangerous Game

---------------------------

Hands are everywhere- his hair, your jaw, his chest, your ass. Every touch makes as he moves from one place to another sets a trail of fire in its wake.

The kiss breaks with a gasp as Jasper's knee bullies its way between your legs, forcing you on tiptoe. The firm muscle bypasses the fabric of your skirt and presses against your barely clothed pussy in a way that sends your vision swimming. Even through your panties, the rough texture of his pants creates an addictive friction that causes you to chase more - rocking your hips down experimentally rewards you with even more of that coarse deliciousness and pulls a deep moan from you.

He wastes no time as you grind against his thigh, moving his lips to the hollow of your throat, licking and sucking at the area until red blooms across your skin in an intricate pattern of possession. Your hands desperately fumble to grasp anything they can, eventually ending up fisted in his hair. A warning growl rumbles deep in his chest as you tug on the soft blonde strands. Your proximity forces the vibrations through your own chest, weakening your knees.

Jasper presses closer, keeping you upright. His mouth finds its way back to yours as his hand comes up to your neck - fingers pressing into your pulse point as he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss. He eagerly drinks up your sighs as your lips continue to meet in a battle of teeth and tongue; it's becoming less of a kiss as the heat between you increases, but it doesn't matter. Not when you can feel just how hard he is against your stomach.

He all but swallows your keen when he flexes his thigh. Your hips stutter when your clit rubs against the denim; a cry of his name leaves you without thinking at the stimulation. Another, more vicious growl rips through you both as he yanks you away from the wall and walks backwards towards your bed. His lips never leave yours as he falls backwards, pulling you into his lap.

"The things you do to me, Darlin'..." Jasper mumbles into the kiss.

The new position forces his hard cock to press against you and you can't help but press down harder. The pressure causes your head to drop against his shoulder; causes your jaw to drop as Jasper's hands slip to your hips, rocking you firmly against him.

You can tell he knows exactly when your throbbing cunt pulses out even more slick: you can hear his sharp inhale as it pairs with the way his fingers dip tighter into your flesh.

"I want you to ride me, Doll. Can you do that for me?"

It's only then that your movements halt. Freezing like a deer in headlights, you look at him with your mouth slightly agape. Neither of you are strangers to sex - hell, once Jasper got confident enough to let loose around you, there was a month when you were damn near fucking like rabbits. But of all the ways he's taken you, you've never been the one to be on top.

What if you're bad at it? How would you ever get over that?

"Darling," Jasper's voice cuts through your thoughts, definitely feeling your emotional turmoil. "What's wrong? Talk to me, Sugar." His golden eyes bore into you with a different intensity than before. His once heated gaze now only harbors concern as his thumbs rub gentle circles on your waist.

“It's nothing…” you mutter moving in to nose at his neck, pressing small kisses along the column in an attempt to bring the mood back.

His grip on you shifts, pulling you back a respectable distance to read your face. “Tell me what's wrong, or we're stopping right now, Darlin’."

Oh. Serious voice… As the realization that there's no avoiding voicing your insecurity if you want to get railed - which you do -, your face starts to heat, embarrassment flooding your veins.

Ever the patient man, Jasper waits for you to find the least embarrassing combination of words.

“I've never-” God, your face feels like it could smelt iron right now… “I've never rode anyone; I, um, I don't know how…”

Your voice falters to a whisper, but you know he heard you.

A grin starts to cut its way across his face, leaving you to balk. You know he isn't about to laugh in the face of your anxiety right now.

“You know what- forget I said anything.” you mumble, moving to get up only to be unceremoniously yanked back down.

“Where do you think you're going, Sugar?” Jasper chuckles, ducking his head to try to meet your gaze.

Ever the avoider, you look to the side, opting to pout about it since you can't storm out to the room all dramatic like you wanted. One of his hands comes up to brush some of your hair you were hiding behind.

“I'll teach you.”

Your eyes snap to his finally as the heat in your face starts to creep down your neck. “What?” You choke out.

“I said I'll teach you how to ride,” Jasper says, the humor in his eyes underlined with something darker- hungrier.

Your mouth goes dry from the intensity in them. Gulping, all you can do is nod, words failing you for a different reason this time.

“Yeah?” He hums. “My pretty baby wants to learn to ride me?”

His hands trail down to your skirt, slipping under the hem to trace the elastic of your panties. “Why don't you take these off, Sugar…”

His voice may be gentle, but you know a command when you hear it.

You slide off his lap, standing on shaky legs as you slide the thin fabric down.

“Skirt and shirt too. I want to watch my cock disappear in you while you grind those hips against me.”

You'd be lying if you said that didn't make something sinful twist inside you.

Once all the offending fabric is gone, you take a deep breath. Right now this is nothing new for you. You've been naked in front of Jasper countless times, this is fine.

His eyes never leave you as he works on his jeans - unbuttoning and unzipping them before shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers. He curls two fingers to beckon you closer, other hand leisurely stroking himself, smearing his precum along the shaft.

Settling yourself back in his lap, you slightly fumble, trying to steady yourself. Back in new territory.

“Easy…” Jasper soothes, holding your waist. He stops fisting himself in favor of manhandling you into position.

Your knees are spread to rest just away from his legs, and your hips angled above him by the time he is done adjusting you. One of his hands slips down once more to line up with your slit.

“Drop yourself, Darlin’. Slowly,” he guides. “Once the tip is in, roll your hips forward as you move further down.”

And so you do. Steadily, you push yourself down and forward as his cock slips further and further into your waiting quim. Within seconds, your hips meet his and he sits comfortably to the hilt inside you.

“That's it,” Jasper mumbles, hands lightly stroking your sides. “Can you lift back up and repeat that same motion for me, Sugar?”

“Yeah…” you breathe. This isn't hard, you think, lifting yourself up, not hard at all. Your hands steady you against his shoulders as you rock back down.

Jasper's head falls back with a heavy breath through his nose. “Fuck.”

You still. Did you already do something wrong? You're only two bounces in- are you really that bad at taking direction?

“You're doing great, baby, but if you keep clenching around me like that, I'm not gonna last,” Jasper chuckles, gripping your hips to force you to move again.

And just like that, he once again soothes your nerves. Perks of knowing the ins and outs of emotion, you guess.

So, you start your movements again, allowing his hands to go back to simply encouraging you. As you move, you find yourself growing more and more confident - adding in a few circles along with your roll forward, spreading your knees to take him deeper - the noises your experiments draw from Jasper have your eyes slipping shut and your head lolling forward to rest against his cool collar.

As you ride, you can feel to need for more steadily creeping up to you, forcing your hips to move faster, for you to grind your clit against him as you chase your release.

“Goddamn it-” Jasper hisses, burying his nose in your hair as he inhales your scent. “You're a fucking natural, Darlin’. C’mon, Sweetness, cum for me.”

A soft whimper falls from your lips at the praise, your face heating as you nuzzle further into him. Your thighs are starting to burn, but the ache in your pussy, the pure need to cum, outweighs any discomfort in your trembling legs as you start to slam yourself harder and more desperately onto his solid length.

You can feel your release. It's right there; dipping in and out of sight in a twisted game of desire, but you'll be damned if you lose.

You clamp down on Jasper, the sudden tightness causing even more of the delicious friction you're craving. The deep rumble that drags from Jasper's chest only pushes you closer, more and more noises drip from your lips as you all but ravage the man beneath you.

“Come on, Darlin’, give it to me- let me see how pretty you look creamin' all over my cock.”

You hips give a final jerk forward when his thumb meets you clit, the swollen nerves throbbing at the sudden shock of cold. With a sharp cry of his name, you cum.

Your nails dig into his arms as you rock against him, trying to prolong your high as long as possible. Not that you could stop if you wanted to - Jasper's hands are back to forcing your hips down, chasing his own release.

His hips have started to jerk up into you, meeting you movement for movement as he draw closer and closer to his own climax. Rambled praises have started to fall from him as he holds you tight. From mumbling about how beautiful you are sitting atop him, to growling out about how good your pulsing cunt feels.

The world's most dangerous game. And you've won.

Just at your limit, right before the stimulation becomes too much, Jasper finally empties himself into your heat. You though his growls before rumbled you, but the absolute animalistic sound that rips out of his chest as he loses himself in you uproots your very being. The knowledge that you can bring such a powerful creature, *the* Apex predator to such euphoria - the fact that such a magnificent being has allowed you to share in this game - has you shuddering in his hold.

#jasper hale smut #jasper whitlock smut #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale x reader smut

[ki-yomii]

like i do | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 3.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, standing missionary, finger fucking, thigh riding, established relationship, angst w/ a happy ending, possessive!jk, jealous!jk, mentions of infidelity, trust issues

➥ summary | request - Jk being a jealous husband, angst and smuttttt 🥹💘

➥ notes | for lovely anon. hope you enjoy 💚 un-edited, i'll come back and fix any mistakes later. also poor jimin. i love him but i always seem to make him suffer lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Eavesdropping.

Whether it was a stray conversation in a shop, or lurking around corners to see what others really thought of you, everyone’s done it at some point.

Now, it’s a habit Jungkook tries not to encourage - much preferring upfront interactions and direct conversations - but that isn’t to say he’s never eavesdropped before.

But the problem with listening in on conversations you’re not supposed to be is you run the risk of hearing something you wish you didn’t.

And while it wasn’t intentional by any means - he respects you too much to spy, even if the urge is there - he learns this lesson the hard way.

The first time it happens, he’s in the kitchen refilling his cup of iced coffee. There’s a squeal of surprise followed by a lighthearted giggle, the sound of shuffling limbs and a low grunt.

Everything in him freezes at the sound of your delight, gut churning.

He always works so damn hard to pull the laughter from the depths of your throat. And it stings that Jimin - his friend, his brother’s attempts are effortless.

It’s something so simple, and yet the effect it’s having on him is undeniable as Jungkook white-knuckles the handle of his mug and grits his teeth.

His jaw nearly cracks in two when he hears the softly murmured greeting, “It’s good to see you, baby.”

And Jungkook knows, okay.

He knows there’s nothing romantic between the two of you.

If anything, you’re too alike. Twin flames of the platonic variety. Not only would it never work out, but you both feel nothing but familial towards one another.

For fuck’s sake, Jimin was there when Jungkook proposed. Was the one to encourage it, in fact. Has been nothing but supportive about your relationship even when others disagreed.

However, knowing something doesn’t dampen the spark of jealousy.

Nor does it soothe the sharp flash of hurt threatening to steal the breath from his lungs.

Jimin has always been affectionate with you, and he’s always a touch too flirtatious. It’s a part of who he is, and it’s one Jungkook would never ask him to dim. Jimin spent far too long hiding, pretending, stifling himself for other’s comfort.

And Jungkook loves him as he is, encourages him to be his beautiful, authentic self no matter what. Expect maybe when it comes to his wife… for reasons he’s unwilling to examine.

All schoolyard flirtations aside, what bothers Jungkook most are the pet names. He can put aside his petty jealousy because he knows its unfounded.

What’s harder is dismissing the use of that little four-letter word: baby. 

It’s supposed to be his way of telling you how much he loves you. Special, intimate. A stand-in for the four-word phrase he whispers into the silk of your skin, tattoos into your heart with his lips.

The realization he’s sharing a part of you he thought all his own sits bitter on the back of his tongue, an acid burn eating through his throat until he can’t find the words.

When you respond in kind with a soft, tender call a piece of him shrivels.

Standing in the kitchen adrift and lovelorn, Jungkook’s left with an empty longing he can’t name and no where to place it.

You weren’t together for more than six months before he proposed, knowing you were the one for him by the second date.

Maybe he moved too fast, was too receptive?

Growing up, he’d always been eager to move onto the next big thing, ready to jump head first. Some said that would come back to bite him in the ass. Was this the day?

Perhaps you regret saying yes so soon. Jungkook knows he’s not like other people. They need time to settle into their feelings like a house settling old wooden bones.

The last thing he wants is to make you feel trapped, suffocated under the weight of all his clingy, needy problems.

So he smothers the discomfort and walks into the living room. He shoots you a smile and inclines his head towards Jimin.

Thoroughly ignores the pulse of pain when he sees how cozy the two of you look cuddled up on the couch, legs tangled together with Bam at your feet.

That should be me.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He can’t lose you.

It’s there he silently vows to be less intense, less attached. Does his best to keep his hands to himself even though he wants to reach across the space between your bodies, and tug you into the cradle of his chest.

Bam picks his head up, cocking his ear to the side when Jungkook winces as Jimin reaches out to tug a lock of your hair, smirking around another purred baby.

Thankfully no one else but the dog notices his moment of weakness or the tension cutting through his shoulders.

Staring at his reflection, Jungkook tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and fiddles with his tie. The three-piece fits like a glove yet he’s never felt more uncomfortable.

He longs for soft cotton and baggy loungewear but tonight is important.

It’s your first year anniversary.

He’s had this night planned out months in advance; pulled all the strings needed to secure a reservation at one of the best five-stars in Gangnam.

You’ve been looking forward to it all week, and your excitement is infectious.

Only Jungkook’s mood sours as soon as he turns the corner to find you on the couch with company, dolled up and radiant. Jimin’s beside you, one leg crossed over the other and swirling a half-empty wine glass.

He says something too low for Jungkook to hear.

“Jimin!” You titter behind your hand, the flash of the jewels on your nails catching the light. “Sto-op! You nasty little freak.”

“What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snap but the inner turmoil spills over before he can shove it down.

Your eyes lose some of their softness, the happiness fizzling from your expression like champagne bubbles. Mouth pinching in at the corners, you narrow your eyes.

A lump grows in his throat.

“What’s got you so pissy, Kook?” you ask.

Jimin clears his throat, averting his gaze to the side as he mindlessly plays with the stem of the glass.

The frosty look Jungkook shoots him withers under your pointed glare. Shoulders sagging, he runs his fingers through his hair, unable to care about how much he’s fucking up the style. 

“Sorry Jimin, I… ahem. Anyway, are you gonna be ready to go soon?”

“Mhm, just let me finish up here,” you trail off, motioning to the last few sips of your own wine. “We’ve still got some time before we have to leave anyway.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jimin cuts in while twining an arm over your bare shoulders, cheek pressed sweetly to yours, “You can’t rush perfection, Kookie. Isn’t that right, pretty baby?”

It’s no surprise your anniversary ends in disaster; a fight so vicious it has you fleeing with an overnight bag, refusing to look at Jungkook let alone speak to him no matter how much he begs you to stay.

Leaving him alone in an apartment ringing with your absence, terrified this is the beginning of the end and thoroughly convinced he’s the worst fucking husband ever.

It’s been several days of radio silence.

No amount of texting or calling gets you to answer. And it’s starting to get to him, going out of his mind with worry, with guilt. If only he hadn’t said this, that, and the other.

If only you’d stayed.

Now, everywhere he turns, Jungkook’s forced to face the jealousy growning like a weed in his heart. And every day it gets worse; a stone crushing his lungs, a bottomless pit curdling his stomach.

He doesn’t know where you are exactly, but his suspicions are proven correct when he nearly busts down the door to Jimin’s apartment only to have you invite him inside, stony-faced and silent.

The quiet doesn’t last, broken by the awkward clearing of his throat as he avoids your stare.

“What are we even doing?” he asks.

Your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline.

There are bags under your eyes and heavy lines around your mouth. You look like you haven’t slept well. Jungkook’s gut clenches, bile bubbling up the back of his throat.

It’s all my fault.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Kook.”

“Please.” He refuses to acknowledge the plea for what it is. “I can’t - I can’t do this anymore.” His voice breaks, cracks in two, tears stopping up his tongue. “I need to know.”

Your eyes flash with confusion. “Baby?” You step closer, hand outstretched and shoulders relaxing. “What are you talking about?”

His intentions are pure, honest.

But months of simmering anger, of doubting everything about himself (again), of resenting the fact he resents you, resents Jimin at all, bubbles to the surface.

He’s not proud of it, but Jungkook explodes; a match set to gunpowder.

“I’m talking about you and Jimin!”

“Me,” you ask, blinking owlishly, “-- and Jimin?”

Jungkook smiles, sharp and unpleasant. Bitter and disappointed. Grief makes him mean, nasty. “Yeah, you and Jimin. Do you think I’m stupid - were you just gonna keep fucking around behind my back?” 

“Woah, pump the breaks! What the hell are--”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

His eyes glint like shards of black ice, cool and assessing as he stares at you. Numb to the concern in your gaze, the purse of your lips. He’s slipping - he knows he’s slipping. Can feel the grief stricken rage pressing in at the corners of his mind.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, and yet he’s helpless to stop the words pouring from his mouth. “Did you like watching me make a fool of myself?”

You sneer, arms crossed over your chest so hard it looks like it hurts, “You’re doing that all on your own, Jungkook. I think you need to leave.”

“No, no, come on. I want to know. Why did you marry me if you don’t even want me, huh?”

Stalking closer, Jungkook corners you against the counter.

The smooth glide of his body is reminiscent of a large jungle cat, purely predatory. The uncomfortable thrill of it reflects through your gaze, the clench of your thighs.

Dark satisfaction curls low in his belly.

He asks, “Did he fuck you better, make you scream his name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you’re being a fucking pig,” you say, shoving his shoulder towards the door. “Now I really think it’s time for you to leave. Come back when you’re not being stupid.”

Strong fingers clamp down around your wrist, and Jungkook tugs you into his chest. His free arm curls around your waist, pinning you to his front. The heat of your body can’t drive away the sudden cold washing over him.

“Let go-”

“No.” He watches as any retort dies on your tongue, your eyes meeting his head on for the first time. Whatever you see hooks in, refusing to let go. “I’m not letting you go.”

Shivering, you try to tug your arm free, “Jungkook, please. You’re starting to scare me.”

In lieu of a response, Jungkook dips his head, and inhales the scent of your hair. Dragging his nose down the length of your neck as the familiar perfume floods his lungs. Soothes the prowling beast caged in his chest.

A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through him into you, your nipples stiffening against him.

Jungkook sighs, “You always smell so good, baby.”

The tension threaded through your frame releases, your edges softening until you rest against him fully. Shivers race down his spine when your breath tickles his ear.

You call to him softly.

He hums, nuzzling into the side of your head, “Mhm?”

“Can you let me go now? Promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Jungkook pulls back to look at you for several long seconds. Unlatching his fingers, he watches as you flex your wrist. Then reaches up to tenderly curl the digits around your throat, transfixed by the sight.

A hook of arousal sinks into his stomach.

Yanks hard when you gasp at the push of his thick thigh against your pussy, your whine when he flexes the muscle. With a soft cry, you sag into his body while your hands fly up to plant themselves on his biceps.

“K-Kook!”

“Mm, that’s it.”

The bubble of emotions boiling under the surface of his skin is at odds with the satisfaction coiling in his belly, the interested twitch of his cock.

Jungkook rolls his thigh and works you along the length of it. The heat of you burns through the cotton of his lounge pants, so warm and soft and wet.

"Don't--" your protest trails off, smothered by your teeth as your eyes flutter in pleasure. "Hn!"

Shit, he wants to bury himself so deep inside you’ll never forget the stretch. Ruin you so good with his cock you won’t dream of anyone else ever again. He’d make you his and his alone.

Fingers tightening around your neck, Jungkook murmurs, “Let me hear you, baby.”

Unsuccessfully trying to ignore how good the friction is, you shake your head in denial. But there’s no hiding how turned on you’re getting, panties sticky and thighs clamping around his.

You’re absolutely soaked, evidenced by the growing dark patch on his leg as he grinds you into a sloppy mess.

“W-We can’t, Jimin’s h-home.”

Mentioning the other man is a mistake, and you know that.

Jungkook sees the realization light up in your eyes seconds after he tenses, rutting up against you harshly. The bulge of his cock digs into the dip of your hip, throbbing in time with the labored heaves of his chest. 

His kneecap catches, the sharp ridge smashing into your swollen clit. Your mouth drops open, and Jungkook slaps a hand over your face before the wail escapes.

He knows he’s being rough, but the tears in your eyes soothe some of the hurt. And honestly, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch, especially when your hips jerk against his.

“Better be quiet. We don’t want Jimin to hear us,” Jungkook snarls, “after all, what would he think if he saw how bad you’re gagging for your husband’s dick?”

Your indignant response is cut off by another muffled whine, his teeth sinking into the corner of your jaw.

A weak spot of yours - Jungkook abuses it to his advantage. Swiping his tongue through the layer of sweat that clings to your skin, the salt bursting across his tongue.

He groans.

“I don’t give a fuck what you or Jimin think.” His breath puffs warm and moist over your ear, voice whiskey rough when Jungkook says, “You married me. You’re mine, baby, and I don’t share.”

Relocating, his hand releases your throat and finds your hips. He slips under the mid-thigh hem of your oversized nightshirt, and snaps the waistband of your panties with a firm tug.

Pulling the fabric free from between your legs, he tucks the ruined fabric into his back pocket as a souvenir. 

“K-Kook,” you say, voice warbling.

He hums, eyes glittering dangerously as his fingers brush over the top of your slit. Your clit jumps beneath the pad of his finger, swollen and throbbing.

When you hiss low between your teeth, he smirks, and bullies the little nub with rough circles until your hips shift from side to side.

“Ah, shit, baby. Can you hear how sloppy your pussy is?”

Jungkook dips his fingers between your folds, playing with your gummy walls as he gathers your slick, teasing the rim of your entrance. The filthy squelches echo out into the otherwise silent apartment.

He preens, chest puffing up with pride, and says, “He can’t make you feel the way I do. Can he?”

Without warning, he slides two fingers deep inside to the third knuckle. Chuckles when you burrow your face into his shoulder, your nails dragging raised lines of heat down his arms as your walls give, fluttering around his thick digits as you adjust to the stretch.

“Mm, you always take me so well, baby.”

You clench at the praise, and Jungkook pumps his fingers in reward, curling up to massage at the spongy patch of your g-spot. You whine, head tossed back and thighs shaking around his hand.

Pain shoots through the base of Jungkook’s spine, and biting back a curse, he reaches down to adjust his cock from where its trapped against you, swollen and leaking.

“Yeah, you’re such a good girl.”

“Please,” you whine before mumbling something else.

Jungkook’s not sure what it is, but figures it’s not all that important when your eyes roll back into your head and your hips twitch.

You start to bear down on his fingers, walls tensing and releasing.

“Gonna cum?” Jungkook nips at your bottom lip, panting into your mouth and sharing breath as his eyes bore into yours. “Fuck! Do it. Wanna feel you cum all over my hand.”

God, you look so good like this; eyes teary and brows crinkled, sweat-slick and mouth slack. A sight he never wants to be without. His sweet girl, his baby, his wife.

“Yeah, that’s it.” His fingers curl and pulse, pet and stretch. “Now open those pretty eyes.”

A hand curls around your jaw, tugs at your chin.

“Look at me,” Jungkook breathes.

Please.

He watches, greedy, as your lashes flutter, the lids weighted down by pleasure. Eventually, you manage to crack them open, and he ruts forward in response. His groan vibrates his lips as they smash into yours in a violent kiss. 

You pull away with a gasp, slick dripping down your shaky knees. “I can’t - hnggg - fuck, Kook!”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

He’s unforgiving in his demands, a cold fire burning in the depths of his eyes. His cock throbs, his hips trembling with restraint as he stops himself from rutting to completion against you.

His heart hammers against his ribs, and his stomach swoops.

The answer will either make or break him.

Anticipation floods the room with tension; hovering in the air like a word about to be spoken.

“Tell me.”

“I -- you, Kook, I’ve always belonged to you,” you say, clenching down around him. “Please.”

Capturing you with his gaze, Jungkook hooks a thumb into the corner of your mouth. All the hurt, all the doubts, all the rage bleed out of him like water tossed over the embers of a campfire.

Leaving behind the single-minded desire to give you what you want. What you deserve. Because you’re his and the only thing he wants to do is take care of you.

Love you like you deserve to be.

Like only he knows how to.

The taste of your skin is sharp and bright when his tongue flicks against yours, and he hisses into the plush of your mouth, “Cum.”

Keening, your pussy throbs once, twice. Your belly contracts. And then you’re gushing wetly, a warm flood of slick soaking the palm of Jungkook’s hand, dripping down to puddle on the kitchen tile. Your walls ripple, muscles spasming as you shake apart in his arms.

Jungkook holds you through it, soothing the aftershocks as you slump into him - a marionette with its strings cut. You’re cotton soft, cloudy. Head lolling on his shoulder when you look up at his profile with hazy eyes.

“Show off,” you slur when you catch the sight of his satisfied smirk, the puff of his chest as he stares at something behind you. “Can’t believe you made me cum all over Jimin’s kitchen floor.”

The sound of a choked-off, slightly hysterical laugh comes from the entryway, “Oh, I can. Just glad to see you guys finally made up. Now I’m gonna go wash my eyes with bleach.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine

[praeluxius]

pas de deux - IVE An Yujin (ft. Jang Wonyoung)

Part 1 of folie à deux.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

18+ An Yujin (and Jang Wonyoung) x Male Reader smut

Masterlist Word Count: 7,727

folie à deux - folly (madness) of two pas de deux - a dance for two

It's survival—that's how you mask it.

It's the hard reality you tell yourself to justify being the pseudo-servant to these two girls, just to make the year as easy as possible so you can graduate. Playing their games. Never questioning their words or actions. The house of cards they've built is fragile but they keep it in check.

Somehow, you're one of the cards, one wall of the house. You've only been in the school a month. The fresh-faced transfer who fell into the grasp of the two girls who practically run the place. You can't deny it has its benefits. Like every one of Yujin and Wonyoung's friends, no one ever questions anything and you would never run the risk of falling into the bad books of school bullies.

Oh, and you also get to fuck Wonyoung senseless.

Luckily, the walls of the library are thick, everyone else is in class and the library door is locked. Or someone would have heard the squirming Wonyoung moaning expletives by now.

"Harder." Her nails threaten to pierce the skin. Claws gripped to your forearm. Her words are sharper still, cutting through the air with the same lethality as her looks. "Stop, stop, stop. Hand, there. Circles, remember. And go fucking harder will you?" You position as instructed, how you know she likes it. There's no room for creative freedom here—it's Wonyoung's way or it's no way.

But, god. She knows exactly how to break you—just enough that when she puts you back together, your mismatched pieces slot perfectly into her shape, allowing her to completely mould and manipulate you at her will, at her whim. And oh, does she love when you let her.

"That's it, there. Yes!" Wonyoung presses the heel of her foot into the small of your back, pushing you further in, urging you closer and deeper, drawing a hoarse groan from her throat. She's sprawled flat on the desk, on the second floor of the library. You're looking over the balcony, down at the empty room. It's almost monotonous, it happens at the same time every week. Hidden in the same top corner of the same library, at the same time on the same day. You've got her legs spread and your cock in her cunt.

Your fingers are digging into her thighs, pinning her hips to the desk. You don't falter once, going exactly as fast, exactly as hard, and exactly as deep as she likes it. Her movements are in tune with yours. Familiarity. Wonyoung's perfectly groomed eyebrows are furrowed, heart-shaped lips pursed, eyes scrunched shut.

"You're close, right? I can feel it..." Your words come out ragged and laboured. This isn't supposed to feel good for you, you aren't supposed to have an opinion. It's her own fantasy—an excuse for her to let herself get fucked like a little whore without question or consequence—your body's just along for the ride. You're not an actor in the scene, not a participant. You are the means to an end; a character-prop. Something to be used by the main character. To further her plot.

She responds with a shaky mewl that turns into a string of frantic cries, her slender, legs locking around you.

It ends how it always ends.

She cums. Hard.

You don't. Too messy, she says. You can't cum inside, you can't cum on her and you can't just cum on the library desk. Too risky and unhygienic. It's almost cute watching her try to cover up her gasp and squeal as she rides her high, biting down onto her soft sleeve, probably tearing through a layer of fabric with her pearly whites.

That's just how it is with Wonyoung.

***

"There you are!" Yujin is by your side and snaking her arm around yours, holding you just above the elbow and leaning against you. "Where's Wony?"

"Probably halfway down the highway by now, her boyfriend picked her up fifteen minutes ago," you explain as if it's the most normal thing in the world that Wonyoung hopped off your cock and into her boyfriend's car in the space of ten minutes. But that’s the life she lives—you live.

"You can take me straight home then, let's go." Yujin smiles up at you with her signature grin and those half-moon eyes. If Wonyoung were the definition of danger, Yujin was still just that, but wrapped up in cotton wool and given to a puppy. Her playful expression could melt even the hardest heart, and yet, thanks to her money, she too could get away with just about anything.

At least Yujin made your life easier. There was a little more give and take in your friendship—unlike with Wonyoung.

Still, you wonder exactly how the two of them do it. The whole school around their little fingers. The teachers—they overlook Wonyoung's little indiscretions as soon as the excuses leave her pretty little mouth, so convincing is her act. And then there's Yujin, she—

"You bitch!" In sync, you and Yujin look away from each other and towards the two young ladies holding each other by handfuls of hair. You don't know either of them, but they are blocking the way to your car.

"What's going on here?" asks Yujin, speaking louder than normal to ensure that her voice breaks through the constant bickering. The voices quieten and the hands release their grips, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

The pair turn to you both as they both speak at the same time. "This whore took my earrings!" One points at the other.

"Yeah? These are my earrings. How dense can you be?" one fires back, clearly pissed off, making exaggerated hand gestures for emphasis.

"Bitch, they belong to me! Stop taking things that aren’t yours, you slut! This is you and Jisun’s boyfriend all over again!"

"Ladies, please," Yujin says calmly, in just those two words she captivates attention. "You girls are friends, right?" She doesn’t give time for a response. "Well, if you're really friends, you'll sit and talk about this instead of pulling each other's hair. And if I'm being totally honest, those earrings don't exactly look worth the effort."

They lower their fists slowly, looking a little less angry now and more embarrassed to be told off. You half expect a little, "yes, mother" and an apology from them.

"Great!" Yujin says after some silence. She tugs gently on your arm, strutting between the two girls with you in tow. They stand and watch as you pass by. You only get a step or two past them before Yujin stops.

She turns to face the girls, still staring wide-eyed at the two of you. "Actually, aren't you girls forgetting something? You owe us both an apology."

The two exchange glances, looking surprised by the statement. "Wh-what for?" one asks, eyes darting nervously between you and her friend, who seems equally puzzled.

"For being in our way." The pair look around and suddenly notice the small crowd around you, phones pulled out, cameras glaring. They pale almost immediately. And you can see that they know this only ends one way. Because no one says no to Yujin.

The girls nervously get down on their knees and bow their heads. "I-I'm sorry!"

"We're sorry!"

"Excuse us!"

"Please forgive us!" They're flustered, apologizing to you and Yujin as though their lives depend on it. It feels like forever has passed when Yujin finally laughs and turns away.

"Have a lovely evening, ladies," she says in a tone sweeter than sugar, leaving the girls kneeling and guiding you again towards your car.

For all intents and purposes, these two girls are fucking crazy.

Delusional.

folie à deux

***

"You will stay and eat. I insist." It's ever so clear where she gets it from. Just like his daughter, Yujin's father simply would not take "no" for an answer. You know that really, you have no choice but the lock the car and follow Yujin up the steps into her house.

"Make sure our guest is comfortable." He glances at the maid to signal her. You notice a flinch, though only passing—the girl is nervous. No one can relax when they're in the presence of an Ahn. After his instruction, he walks into the door without another word.

You make the climb Yujin had not two minutes earlier, up the stairs and into the front door of the house, through the door left open, which the maid closes behind you.

The mansion's interior is exactly what you expect—luxurious, opulent and vast. But where you thought there might be a hint of the gaudy and tacky, there is only tasteful, expensive decorating, the finest of furniture, and grandeur befitting the family who owns it. As always, there's not a thing out of place.

Yujin's at the top of the stairs. She has already swapped out her formal blouse for a comfortable t-shirt, but she still wears the pleated skirt she did before, sitting just above the knee. "Couldn't escape father then? I think he likes you."

"He doesn't show it if he does." You shrug.

"He didn't wave you away without a word. That means he likes you." Yujin speaks as she walks down the stairs towards you. Off somewhere to your right, you hear the busywork of the kitchen, preparing the food he insisted you eat. "It's funny because I can't think why..."

She mocks you in the way she always does, with a grin on her face.

"It must be my wit, charm, personality, and incredible looks," you tell her with a wry smile.

"Huh... I didn't know my dad was gay."

"Shame he's not really my type." It's your turn to grin now.

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, that's an understatement. I know your type."

"Maybe you do," you say while climbing the stairs to meet her at the top.

She stares you down for a moment and you wait for her latest quip. She eventually looks over your shoulder, down the stairs to the maid. Yujin informs her, "We will eat in the upstairs lounge."

***

"And Gaeul, did you hear?" Yujin can barely contain her excitement as she slams her chopsticks on the table. The conversation had been flowing for a while now, mostly from Yujin as she fills you in with all the recent gossip on people you barely know.

"Which one is she again?" This one you already know, but you always enjoy the way she describes and introduces her friends. It’s so often so unserious.

"Kim Gaeul, the one in my dance class." Yujin pauses. Her eyes roll. "You know the one. Short hair, even shorter skirt. Cute smile, even cuter ass?"

That would probably narrow it down.

"Okay, but what about her?"

"Well you know that guy she's dating? The German guy?" The love lives of Yujin's friends are a bit of a blur. The more you hear about them, the less sense it all makes. "He proposed!"

"They are that serious?"

"Very! I guess it was love at first sight. Gaeul certainly saw something she liked."

"They're still young. It's a big commitment."

"But, if you want something, you should take it," Yujin affirms.

"Just like a criminal," you joke.

Yujin giggles. Something is charming about Yujin's laughter. There's an innocence and lightheartedness to her that brings you a sense of tranquillity. Suddenly, a weight rests on your shoulder. A chin nestles into the side of your neck. Warm, moist air fills your ear, "Maybe you could learn a thing or two. Life's too short to wait around and hesitate."

The weight and air vanish, and suddenly you feel cold. Yujin's French perfume lingers in your nose. "And it's good for her right, she must be getting fucked a lot." Yujin continues as normal as though the moment never happened. She picks up a piece of meat between her chopsticks, taking care not to get the sauce all over her. She brings it closer to her lips, smiling ever so slyly the whole way.

Yujin takes a drink before she continues, “and so Rei said to her that…”

She continues onto rest of the story and the many more after which you don’t really pay attention to, the moment before still lingering on your mind.

***

"As delicious as always." The two of you had spent at least an hour in the upstairs lounge, eating as you talked, catching up with events, and then talking about nothing in particular.

The maid bows at your compliment before taking away the tray of leftovers and leaving the room.

Yujin lay her arms over her chest as she leans back into the couch. Her eyes roll as her head falls to the side, staring over at the bookcase behind you.

"I hate reading." You can hear her disgust in her tone. "Dull, pointless, useless, boring..."

Yujin stops, eyes fixed upon you. Her eyebrows pull together with curiosity. "But you must love it, right?"

"There are worse hobbies."

She gives a thin-lipped grin, unconvinced. Yujin tilts her head to the other said, hair thrown over her head to settle on the other side, "do you, though? Because you and Wonyoung spend a lot of time in the library."

She knows. Of course she knows.

"Just studying." You smile weakly and give an awkward laugh, running your hand through your hair. 

"Wonyoung doesn't study." She says that flatly, cutting the air. Yujin may well be the only person in the school who dares to question the actions of her best friend. She has no interest in playing along with the lie.

You sit in silence. Any excuse would only be an insult to her intelligence.

"You're lucky really," she muses, her fingers absentmindedly tugging at the frilled edge of her skirt. Yujin makes a conscious effort to cross her long legs, exposing the small expanse of creamy flesh where the skin between the hem and knee socks met.

"Why is that?" you ask, with eyes fixed firmly on the tantalising flesh.

"Every other guy in school would kill for an hour alone with Wonyoung." Yujin purred.

"A bit drastic. They want what any young, single man would want."

"Hmm, those poor things are a second away from cumming in their pants just being in the same room as her."

Yujin gave a delightful, innocent-girl smile, contrasting with her crass language. She wore her angel-like grin with a devil's look. "Not you though. Which is exactly why she wants you."

"Why?" Your eyes flicker to the floor, away from Yujin. The thoughts circle.

"Like I said: they're far too eager for her to respect them, but not you. No." She spoke clearly, firmly. "The way you stare at her, it's almost as if you don't care that much for her."

"Not sure I understand. She is a friend, I care." you admit.

"But you don't beg it like the other boys do. She must find that attractive about you, not being desperate, but still willing." Her legs uncross slowly, tortuously so, pulling her legs apart ever so slightly. She smooths the crease of the pleats over her thighs.

You sense a chance to turn the wind and sail the conversation in Yujin's direction. "What about you? The one boy from art class seems really desperate to get close to you."

The vaguest flash of surprise came across her eyes, as if you'd interrupted her. The shock passes.

"Ah. Him." She rolls her eyes, puffing her cheeks as she does. A disgusted grimace mars her angelic expression.

"He's into you." Who isn't?

"I can tell. Not my type." She waves dismissively, having no need for your words. "I can," she pauses over her words, "take care of myself."

A creeping heat climbs your spine. "Really?" Your question sounds more curious than teasing, though your tone carries more than a hint of amusement.

Her slender shoulders shrug ever so casually. "Of course I can. Everyone needs a little," she purrs the next word, "dissipation."

It is the wording more than anything that draws a pensive mood. Yujin said it casually enough, with her fingers absentmindedly pressing up and down her exposed leg, almost as if the mere thought of it was enough to excite her. Her gaze glazes over at some unseen memory, and she gives a knowing smirk before her thoughts snap back to the real world.

"Yujin, I—"

She cuts you off, "there are so many, too many, horny boys in the world, but so few are dependable." The hand tracing her thigh edges just a centimetre further upwards, folding the pleat under the touch. "it was nice to have you here for dinner, but I have something I need to do."

"Are you expecting me to go so that you can...?"

The smile spreads from ear-to-ear across her face. "I'm not saying anything. But you know where the door is." She rises from her seat, a perfectly poised princess, and moves gracefully towards the door. Her body swaying under her baggy shirt and flowing skirt.

She doesn't give you time for a reply.

You're left alone with only the dying embers of her expensive perfume.

***

Class finished early and you're waiting. As you always did when you finished before the girls.

However, this time is different. You haven’t seen Yujin all day and aren’t sure how to act when you do. Not after what you saw yesterday. You lean back against your locker, streams of people passing by. Most ignore you, or the few that acknowledge you pay only a glance or two before continuing.

"Hey, Gaeul," you call to the one girl you recognise passing by, "have you seen Yujin?"

"Bro, she left already." You don't know when she started calling you bro. Maybe she always had. Could be part of her friendly nature. Gaeul is about as easygoing as they come.

"Is something wrong with her?"

"Nah." A gap appears in the crowd and you move to join her, heading out of the building. "You know how it is. If she wants to leave five minutes early, no one will stop her."

Another student cuts between the two of you, forcing you towards another group that blocks your way. You spin away to avoid them, manoeuvring through like a speeding car on the highway, catching up with the on-rushing Gaeul.

"And she didn't say anything?" you ask when finally back by her side. Gaeul's looking at her phone—probably reading a text from her husband-to-be.

"Hm?" Gaeul throws a glance out of courtesy. "No." she mutters before replying to the text.

"Nothing?"

Gaeul opens the door to the outside and you follow her through. She's striding like a girl with places to be, so you have to half-jog to get back by her side.

"Oh! Yujin did tell me to tell you something, actually. She said, tell him to act like a criminal. Whatever that means."

Act like a criminal.

"Thanks Gaeul," you speak quickly, diverting towards your car.

"Bro! What does it mean?" Gaeul calls after you but you don't wait around to answer.

***

The maid is there to greet you when you knock on the door of Yujin's house. Apparently, Yujin is waiting for you upstairs, and after letting you into the Ahn house for the second time in as many days, the maid disappears again into the background, leaving you to explore.

You see, yesterday ended almost unceremoniously. You stayed for dinner, you ate, talked, laughed. And then you left.

Except, it wasn't actually that simple. After Yujin left the room, you held around for a minute, finishing your drink. The ice-cold one in the fancy tumbler. Taking in the room around, as for all the time you had spent in there, you were more focused on Yujin than the exquisite decor. You admired it for all it's worth and savoured your drink until you decided that you shouldn't overstay your welcome.

It should have been simple. Walk to your car, get in, and go home.

Until you walked down the corridor and found a door ajar with the smallest of gaps. You leant gently against the frame, peering in just enough to give you a view of the bed.

On the bed was the girl you expected to find. On the bed was Ahn Yujin.

The curtains were closed, but enough sunlight managed to peak through. Light bounced off the soft skin. Each breath sent her chest swelling. You followed every rise and fall with hungry eyes.

With the afternoon sun kissing her flesh, highlighting the curve of her shoulder and collarbone, she looked even more heavenly. She wore her short hair wild, swept back and almost messy. And that's all she wore.

Her clothes discarded. A crumpled heap just beside the bed. And yet, there was a strangely intimate beauty in their chaos. As if she had just stumbled out of them in some urgent and carnal heat.

Her entire being had been shaped into perfection, carved from a block of ivory, her delicate fingers, smooth legs, slender shoulders and bare chest roseand fell with the soft inhales of breathing.

It was not the Yujin you knew; there was no hint of her elegance and poise. Here only lustful indulgence. A reckless hedonism that wanted no secrets to be kept or questions to be unanswered. Her body lay free of the bounds that normalcy imposes, inviting you to admire what she kept concealed, every precious curve and secret corner of her immaculate skin, every beautiful mark and blemish, that, in itself, was a testament to the humanity that lies just under the surface of such sublime beauty.

There was no doll, nor porcelain queen. No statue of stone or plaster. Instead, she was living, breathing, moving and feeling. Each touch was electricity. And her eyes said it all.

There was woman—in its rawest form.

And you had stood. You had stared. For as long as you dared. Until you tried to tear yourself away. You could not deny your perverted mind that moment of indulgence. And indulge you did, right up until the fear of being caught overcame you.

It should have been so simple. Walk to your car, get in, and go home.

For the last twenty-four hours, the image plagued your mind. You were consumed with her. With the idea of her. Of what she had done, of what could have been had you dared enter her room. And the guilt alongside it.

And now you're here, a day later, walking back to the scene of your crime. The door is ajar again, a few feet ahead. You push lightly, gently, inch by inch. Your breath held and the anticipation thick, clouding your mind and filling every thought, not of anything other than what you might see behind that door.

And then it comes into view. The bed and the disappointment.

A bed perfectly made, and decidedly empty.

You realise your folly—thinking, hoping, expecting the same sordid sight as before.

"I was wondering if you'd turn up." Her voice comes from behind you and her tone is low, hushed, and seductive. Every word tingles down the spine. Her fragrance arrives a beat ahead of the girl herself. "Did you get my message?"

"Yeah, about being a criminal," you answer as innocently as you can manage, still recovering from the shock.

"Exactly. As criminals, we take, without question, what we desire," Yujin whispers the last few words in your ear, a heavy, breathy tone that takes any resolve left in you and melts it before it's even fully formed. Her scent surrounds you. It overwhelms you.

"Yesterday, what you saw me do," she begins, her fingers reaching for your arm, gliding gently and purposefully, drawing slow patterns with a single nail, "you had the decency to resist temptation, but I don't want that." Her fingers grip your forearm tightly.

"It doesn't matter why you resisted. All I know is that you watched me... touch myself, pleasure myself. Do I turn you on?" She knew damn well the effect she was having.

You answer her question with another question. "Yujin, what are you playing at?"

"You're smart. Don't you know how this goes?" She steps, smooths around the shape of you, and into your field of vision. "Don’t you know why you’re here?" 

She raises her arms slowly, making a show of her body. With all the possible casualness, she smooths her hands up her sides, slowly, passing her stomach and onto her chest, and gently caressing. A shirt clings to her slim frame. The thin fabric is practically see-through, clinging to every delicious curve. The bottom few inches lifting, revealing flesh and the lines of lace trim on her matching her cream panties.

"I can't fight it, Yujin." Your hands find their way to the curves of her waist. She wriggles under the touch, happy to have the reaction she desires.

"Fight what?" She smirks, clearly amused by your confession and how easily you give in to her. Her hands roll gently across her breasts.

"The alarm in my head saying it’s a bad idea."

"Don’t fight it. Because I'm really, really hot," she whispers as pulls her top up her body. It rolls over her head and flops to the floor and you marvel, breathless and hungry, at the expanse of silky skin and feminine curves.

Her hands stroke at your crotch and she laughs softly. "Hard already?"

Her fingers curl and squeeze around the outline. She gives an approving smirk at the way it twitches under her touch, even as she mocks its hardness. "For me, huh?"

You nod, and she smirks. You move your hands up her body, but just as you begin; she twists free and walks towards her bed.

"Go, stand." Yujin points at the centre of her bedroom, towards the foot of her bed.

The carpet beneath you is soft, and you're barefoot. Walking. Watching. Eyes never leaving Yujin. Her bare thighs, defined, slender and soft. The curves, so gentle, and her accentuated hips. Her round, shapely behind, cradled so perfectly in tight-fitting panties. You have barely reached your position when she looks at you from over her shoulder and wiggles her panties slowly down her legs and leaves them on the floor.

She's crawling on the bed. You can't move—you barely manage to breathe. Each breath burns your throat. You're motionless, speechless, hypnotised in awe at Yujin. As requested (perhaps ordered) you remain. Watching from afar. Yujin seats herself on her bed with delicacy, her knees pressed together.

"I have to be honest with you," she confesses. "I'm not going to fuck you. But you can help me. If you're willing, that is."

"Anything" is your reflex response. You're powerless. She has you in the palm of her hand, and the growing ache in your groin, which was eager to be free of the confines of your pants, only affirms your thoughts.

"Are you sure?" Her head tilted to the side, teasing you with naivete. Yujin laid a single, slender finger on her lip and pulled it down suggestively. "If you come over here," Yujin insisted, her free hand parting her knees and patting the bed between her thighs, "then we could help each other."

There's a flurry of activity. You pull off your shirt and leave your trousers behind. Now you're kneeling across from her.

"Watch me. Just watch." Her voice is softer now, sultry, as her fingers ghost down the column of her neck, along her collarbones and then tracing the curve of her breasts, with the lightest grazes against her nipples. Her eyes fall closed as she carries on tracing feathery touches on her torso.

To be here now is all you could have wanted, really. If anything is happening beyond the sound of her shortening breaths and soft hums and her hand snaking between her legs, it's beyond your awareness. Yujin is shifting in front of you, wiggling and squirming; biting at her lip until it reddens and fills; gasping at the gentle caress of fingertips sliding slick against the smooth lips between her legs.

"No touching, just look." As if to drive the point home, her gaze holds on you for a moment, her lips curling into the sweetest smile. As a reward for your patience, her eyes grow warm and welcoming. Her legs spread wider, and Yujin hums. Her touch builds slowly, making small circles. There's no sign of urgency to her actions, none of the frustration that Wonyoung showed when waiting for her release. But Yujin isn't simply touching; it isn't about release. She's revelling.

Her breasts move with her heavy breaths. Her body trembles; her legs shake. She leans back slowly, taking support from her elbow, exposing herself wholly to you, with her head pressing back into her pillow, her hair sprawling in a mess and her pink lips slightly agape as her mouth shapes sounds that die as quickly as they're born.

"Yujin, I..." You lean forward onto your knees, placing an arm by her hip and another by her shoulder. You're hovering over her. Watching the display before you in stunned silence.

She grabs a handful of her tit, squeezing and moaning. "Keep talking," she breathes, her lips still quivering.

"I want you so bad."

She presses harder and slides her finger a little lower, dipping inside her cunt. Her other hand goes to your arm, then strokes over your bicep up to your neck. "You can do better than that." She whispers, wrapping her hand around your nape.

"How could I not want you?" Your knees are between her legs, you lower yourself closer without breaking her rule. You do not touch. "Not when you smell so enticing. Or sound so delightful. Or look so stunning."

Her mouth opens, panting breaths and half-uttered sighs fill the air. "And?"

Strands of hair fall over her face, you bring a hand up and hover it near to them, seeking her approval. Her eyes dart to your hand and consider it for a moment before giving the gentlest of approving nods. Your hand brushes the strands to the side. Her cheeks are bright and rosy, her skin damp, moist with perspiration, though still like silk to touch, you discover as you run a finger down her cheek.

"And when you look at me... with that smile. You have such a cute smile, like right now, that innocent—"

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me."

You oblige. Yujin rises to meet you. And you take her in a hungry kiss. She falls back against her pillow. You slide a hand around her thigh, gently holding it against yours. The sensation of skin on skin is electric.

"M-more. Give me more." Yujin demands, and you give her thigh a squeeze in agreement. Your hand moves to her ass, giving the swell an approving touch, caressing the skin, and kneading ever so slowly.

You watch her, in the dimness between kisses, studying her delicate expressions and tiny reactions and all the while you enjoy the feeling of her pliant flesh beneath you.

This goes on and on. The kissing. The touching. The moments of separation. When Yujin pauses and lays her head down, catching her breath. A few heartbeats pass, she opens her eyes and watches you. Languidly, she smiles and beckons you to lean closer, to hold her again and taste her sweet lips once more.

The dim, orange sunlight of early evening has long since faded. A soft, blue light envelops her bedroom. As the minutes passed and the two of you enjoyed each other's touch, Yujin never stopped. Never stopped her hand buried between her thighs. And this time your kiss broke by the jolt of her head, thrown back into the pillow. Her neck is at full stretch and her lips agape.

No moans come from her mouth. Instead, her breath hitches and holds. She freezes like this, under the moonlight piercing between the curtains. Reflecting from her skin. An image of pure beauty. Unadulterated pleasure.

Her eyes remain shut, but a beaming smile grows.

Finally, she sighs deeply and lets out her last shuddering, shaky breaths. She rises again and searches your eyes with her half-open ones and smiles once more.

"That was perfect," she murmurs, satisfied, as she lolls back into the pillow and rubs her hand—the hand covered with her cum—over her heaving, sweat-slicked chest.

You can only admire as she rubs her hand over her tits, smearing them with a mixture of cum and sweat. And when she's done, she lets her hand fall beside her head, the other resting on your shoulder.

"What are you thinking?" Her question came slowly, her speech still languid.

"How amazing you are."

Yujin smirks before stretching, arching her back from the bed, thrusting her tits at you. "You've probably thought that a lot." She's hot, and she knows it. "Anything else? With me here like this?"

"Your body is better than I imagined. Perfect."

Yujin brings a hand up to cup her tit, as if offering them up for you. "Glad you think so." The next word was a demand, "Taste."

Her chin tilts down and her gaze lifts. Her eyes watch curiously as your head dives to her chest. The most overpowering thing is the smell. The combination of her rich perfume and the scent of sex.

"That's it. Let me guide you." Yujin reaches round, holds the back of your head, and pushes your lips on her nipple. She giggles as you suck greedily, nibbling at her and lavishing her flesh in sloppy adoration. Yujin's skin glows a hue you'd never seen before. And tastes a taste so sickly sweet that you swear is so addicting that as a second becomes a minute, your tongue would never tire.

"Good." Her voice is soft and doting, but her breath catches for a brief instant as you roll your tongue over the swollen peak, drawing a tighter grip on your head. Her hands bury into your hair, her nails against the scalp. She pulls at you, guiding your tongue across her chest.

Yujin whines. And for all the sounds that you've heard today, there is none so sweet, nor one that cuts so deep as when she pulls you away. "God, I feel so sexy now."

Yujin lets her leg rub up to yours. Gyrating gently and grinding your thigh with hers, she works herself closer. Then her legs curl, capturing you and holding you. Yujin raises up so her face is millimetres away, whispering into your lips, "You don't even know what a turn-on you are right now."

She guides your hand with her own, down between her thighs. And she rubs your fingers up against her slippery opening. "Feel that? That's for you, and I can't wait any longer." Her eyes fall closed and her forehead rests against yours.

"I want to fuck you, Yujin."

"We aren't going to fuck." She punctuates each word separately but speaks without anger. Her tone is honey. It's dripping with lust despite the coldness of the words. "But I am going to let you cum now."

Her hand leaves your own, leaving your fingers pressed against her cunt. Both her hands now. Both against your body, rubbing at your chest and working their way down. Yujin's got a devilish, vapid expression. An insufferable confidence.

"And maybe this is selfish, but," Yujin grins wickedly as her hand takes a fistful of cock. "I'm also going to get off to watching you blow a load."

Her thumb, smeared in her arousal, rolls and drags. It's a wicked gesture that plays you like a marionette. Yujin draws her wet thumb up your length. The pressure and tension are enough to bring your breath hitching.

"It'll be huge." You lean into the feeling and whisper hotly. The heat building between the two of you is dizzying. She wraps her fingers around the base of your cock and squeezes firmly, jerking her hand up to the head.

"Good." The word escapes her parted lips as she takes the first full stroke. And then she doesn't stop. Her fingers tighten and the movement is repeated, finding a quick rhythm that you follow along to.

"Touch me," Yujin orders again. She looks down between your bodies, the tangle of arms, where she strokes your cock rhythmically. Using her other hand on your wrist to push you into her. Two fingers. That's what you give, gently stroking down along her cunt. Two fingers inside and curling up slowly inside her. Your hand pressing against her cunt, palm rocking against her clit. "Keep doing that."

You follow along. Obeying her directions and fulfilling her commands, making short little motions between her legs. You've watched her cum once and know exactly how to bring her there again. You push further, probing deeper, massaging the hot slickness. And you must be doing it right. Her grip on your wrist slackens and her body collapses back into the silk.

Finally, she fully focuses on you. Her hands work your cock. Up, down. Smooth, measured, fluid strokes. Unsurprisingly, she's perfect, each action purposeful, coordinated, and calculated. You know from the tension already winding, growing tighter and tighter, that it's a race you're destined to lose.

Yujin sighs heavily. Her lips remain open but her eyes grow serious. Head propped by the pillow, she's watching her handiwork. Watching the first drops of cum leak out and she palms them, taking them into her grip, making it messier as she continues to pump. Her eyes lift to watch your face as it distorts, and as you let out a groan.

"Are you close yet?" Her hand tightens. Faster. Rougher. Her fingers graze your sensitive cock, your body convulses and the involuntary reaction is a knee-jerk buck of your hips into the warmth of her hand. And her laugh follows. Delightfully warm, innocent, genuine. It fills the room and pierces through any self-conscious embarrassment. "Guess so, huh? Come on, cum. Just for me." Her thumb drags over your cock's head.

Your hands still moving, and Yujin's body beginning to quiver. With her orgasm fast approaching, she's determined to make you finish first. Her other hand has a hold on your balls, encouraging them to let loose.

Your lungs hurt from the shallow gasps and a sick knot forms in the pit of your stomach. A tingling buzzing and a throbbing that overcomes everything, wiping the thoughts from your mind. Only her eyes. Yujin's warm, hazel, angelic eyes are what remains. They stare with determination, urging you on.

She knows. You know. You can't hold it anymore. Your body isn't yours anymore, it responds to Yujin, and when she grins, you have no power. Yujin's in control, the only words in your mind. "Cum. Cum all over."

"Ugh, fuck..." is all the warning that you can manage. Her grin widens into a malicious smile and her hand becomes a vice. You can barely breathe; a dull buzzing rings in your ears. Your vision is a blur. All-consuming pleasure blinds. You buck into her hand and feel the thick ropes of cum leave. Firing onto her toned stomach. On to her tits. Wherever her hand directs you.

"Wow, really came hard," Yujin grins teasingly at her messy hands.

Breathing is easier now, and the rush, though it fades, lingers still in every inch of you. And as feeling comes back, as your mind clears, you realise your own hand never stopped. You're still mindlessly fucking her with your fingers. Still making Yujin writhe and moan. She's so warm. Wet.

"Fu-ck. Ke-eep doing... that." Her legs pull at you, forcing your body on top of hers. You respond in your movements, curling your fingers into her and slamming them harder. Your palm hits her cunt every time with a slap.

She's got a hand on her tit, squeezing the cum-covered mounds, her hand sliding around in the sticky mess. It's spreading—the mess, all over her tits—and she's using it for pleasure. It glistens in the soft blue moonlight, catching your eyes.

"I-m..." Yujin starts, then gasping a sharp intake of breath, then more noises, stunted. This goes on until, finally, she takes one slow, heavy, deep breath, filling her chest and holding it there. Her eyes are glassy as if she's not looking through them. And she's still gripping your sensitive cock, hand covered in cum. You groan softly as her hand rubs the last few drops out.

She cums again. She tried to warn you, but this time she's nothing but moans. Erupting from her. Rough. Deep. Coming from within. She gushes. Wetness coats your fingers. Her cunt overflows and runs out onto your hand. A mess of her cum on you, a mess of your cum on her. You watch her breathing as the final few gasps leave her, slowly returning to a steady, even rhythm.

Yujin is breathless. "W-wow..."

You kiss her cheek gently. Your body finds its place beside hers. "Fuck me, Yujin," you exhale.

Yujin's breathing is slow and even, a smile beaming, radiating that warm glow that is her. She takes a deep breath in, then lets it out again.

"No." There's not an iota of sympathy.

You let out an audible sigh, but Yujin holds her finger up. "No sex tonight," she corrects herself, before pushing on your shoulder, rolling you over until she sits atop you.

Her lithe, cum-covered body presses down upon you. Her hips against your spent dick. She leans back, straightening her torso. She barely weighs a thing. Her body is as light as a feather. Yujin gives an innocent look, smiling but avoiding the eyes, but after a moment her smile turns coy, even teasing. She runs a hand over her body and pulls it away, strings of sticky cum stretching from her fingers to her stomach.

"I need a shower." She runs her eyes over your body. "We need a shower."

"Or we can continue..." you speak as you run a hand up her thigh.

Yujin moans in response, and she closes her eyes at the contact. A tremble wracks her for a moment, until her eyes snap open. "No." She pulls back and pushes off you. "Come. Let's shower."

She's standing beside the bed, and you admire her. "You look gorgeous." The words float in the air, and Yujin lets a soft, barely visible blush form. She takes it well; you would've thought she'd dismiss the words, but she smiles warmly.

"Come on." Her finger beckons you.

You follow and don't take your eyes off her. And why should you? Her body is so enchanting, swaying her hips from side to side in her lustful saunter. Her ass and shoulders roll in sync perfectly.

***

Hot water and steam. One runs down your body and the other fills the air. Not thick enough to block your sight but still veiling everything in a white, blurry mist, just enough to muffle the sound, enough to add something in the background.

"Mm..." Yujin murmurs as you rub her back. A luxurious bar of soap. You lather your hands and work it across her body. Underneath her arms. You guide your slippery hands to her sides, lifting and moving with them as they run along her stomach. You tickle gently above her hip bones, smiling at her small reaction—how her hips roll away instinctively.

"So, what happens now?" you ask. Yujin had been completely quiet during the shower. But you can't help but think that you need to address what just happened, what could happen.

"Well, I could bend over right now, right?" Her voice is bubbly, still in a post-orgasmic high.

You chuckle. "But you won't."

"But I won't," Yujin confirms. "I haven't decided yet."

"That's ominous."

Yujin closes her eyes. "Not like I'm the only girl who you're fooling around with."

"So you want it to be exclusive?"

"No." Yujin takes the soap and turns to face you, rubbing it over your chest.

"You're a hot guy, with a nice cock," Yujin's eyelids fall half-closed and her lips spread to show her tongue running over the corner of her mouth, and with the faintest shrug, and adds: "We both know I could have my way with you anytime I want."

Yujin moves past you towards the jet of running hot water. She bows her head under it and lets it rinse off the foam. The suds flow down her body. The streams turn to rivers. Bouncing, trickling, coursing between her supple breasts, down her narrow waist, over her toned stomach, then along her long legs. She takes a second longer than necessary, basking in the spray and enjoying the sensation, and the visual she knows she creates for you.

She reaches out and pulls you under, body against body. She brings her mouth to your ear. "But no one can find out. That would cause you a lot of problems." Her hands grip you tightly as if to emphasise the seriousness. And while her tone remains jovial, there is an underlying sternness.

"What do you mean? What would happen?"

"The position my dad is in, we can't afford to have this come out. He would have you out of the school and out of my life in an instant." Her voice lowers, almost a growl, but there's amusement in it. Her smile widens as she looks you in the eye. "But that won't happen, will it? We'll make sure of that."

"No, won't happen."

"And while we're on the topic..." Yujin grabs at your crotch, stunning you. "If you're gonna keep fucking Wonyoung, you might want to do a better job of hiding that. It'll end the same way."

"Y-you don't mind if I fuck Wonyoung?"

"Please, I encourage it." Yujin wraps a hand around the nape of your neck and pulls you in closer. You move your arms to hold her back. Skin on skin. Her breaths are hot, and steamy. She whispers the next few words, drawing out every syllable, each sound heavy with meaning.

"I..." You lose what words you want to say, flustered by her open, unexpected, and totally cool, reaction.

"Why would I? It's hot as fuck." Her lips brush over your cheeks, ghosting over the skin with a soft, supple touch. "And I know she won't fuck as good as I will."

NEXT PART HERE

#wonyoung smut #yujin smut #ive smut #male reader smut #x male reader #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #wonyoung x reader #yujin x reader

[angelltheninth]

Spider-verse ask

The spiders picking up a call from HQ while in the middle of sex. Who plays it cool so nobody knows or who is obvious and gets called out or possibly something in between. Possibly a fem!reader or fun!reader

The interruptions lmao, always a good trope.

Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miguel O'Hara, Noir x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, interrupted sex, dick riding, phone calls, embarrassment, table sex, quickie, creampie

A/N: Including Noir cause he was my favorite in the first movie.

Peter was thrusting hard from below you, you in his lap on a chair, about to come when the phone rang. He groaned as he reached over almost absentmindedly and gave you an apologetic smile. While he tries to reply very calmly you keep rolling your hips slowly in his lap, making him grunt at every other word, a wicked grin on your face all the while. He doesn't get caught because he uses the excuse of being really tired from superhero work and being a dad. And probably becoming a dad again if you keep riding him like that.

"Shh, calm down beautiful. I'll keep going as soon as I take the call. H-H-Hey! Oh uh... no its nothing! Stop, fuck. Mmmn. You little brat, making me sound like that, you need my cum that bad huh? Can't wait a few minutes, can't go without my cock making you pregnant."

Miguel has you spread out on his desk, legs locked around his hips, his claws and teeth leaving possessive marks on your smaller body while he finishes inside you again. You were just about to as well when the phone rang. Now he is not a selfish lover, he won't stop just for this, he'll get you there but you have to be quiet. Can't do it by yourself? Then suck on his fingers, bite them, bite his hand if you have to, but keep looking his way, at his cocky smirk as tears of pleasure well up in your eyes and you come while he's talking on the phone.

"That was close, almost got caught. Yeah, I think they know we were up to something in here but I was not gonna let this wonderful cunt of yours down, not when its worked so hard for me. We should clean up before they look for us though. C-Condoms? You want me to wear them? Ugh, but I like feel you. Okay, fine. But you owe me after. Whatever you want to do."

Noir is very careful when the two of you sneak off for a quickie. He barely gets the clothes off enough and you're already on him, his gloved hands grasping your thighs and pushing you against the wall. Who ever chose that time to call him has horrible timing and was he not such a good detective he would have hung up. Lucky for him he's very good at keeping quiet and keeping you quiet too, every time you moan he kisses you to silence it, pretending to ponder what's being asked of him. The moment the call ends he speeds up, he needs to make this fast, this was supposed to be fast, now he's been thrown off and he's a little upset actually.

"Apologies for that interruption darling, I'll make this quick. You are not helping by tightening up like that, I know you want my cum but... Damn, I really cannot hold back any longer, I'll make you come sweetheart, yes, come for me, let me get what I want, and then I'll give you so much it will leave a trail as you walk."

#peter b parker x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman noir x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse headcanon #spiderverse smut #peter b parker smut #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman noir smut #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #atsv imagines #atsv headcanons #atsv smut #spiderverse peter b parker #spiderverse miguel #spiderverse noir

[studioghibelli]

burnt- a joel miller x reader

summary: life is sweet, but your big, tough, roughed up husband is sweeter. just for you…. only ever you. domestic life is full of happiness, bliss and….. kinky sex?

warnings: daddy kink (sorry not sorry), no outbreak!au, big fat girthy age gap (20s/late 40s), smut (finger sucking, thigh riding, light choking, f receiving oral, creampie, pinkus in vageenja sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink.) no use of y/n.

note: this hasn’t been proofread, so sorry for any grammar errors. xx

You couldn’t remember when it happened.

When the sleepless nights tangled up in his arms, where neither of you quite knew where the other would end or begin, bled into the quiet mornings spent tangled in the other’s arms. When breathy moans evolved into deep conversations about the afterlife and family values. You couldn’t remember when Joel went from the wild, rugged cowboy you rode for hours on end, to the supportive husband who protected you, made coffee for you, mowed the lawn and took care of you.

It happened quietly. Naturally. Perfectly.

No more were the nights of stumbling around drunk, fooling around behind your friends’ backs, leaving the labels far away and out of sight.

Oh, no. Not anymore.

The silver band engraved with flowers, a pretty, shimmering gemstone sitting on top, reminded you every day of that.

Now, Joel still had that wild streak in him, that dark tint to his eyes. He still let you know he could, and would, fuck you in to high Heaven, show you just how good of a girl you are. But the sweet, simple domesticity of dancing in the kitchen, grilling for friends, watching the news and shaking your head together- that was all new.

Autumn was dawning over the sticky heat of Texas, the air cooling off ever so slightly, days shortening toward cool, navy nights. Your front porch in the mornings, as the sun rose up, offered you solace away from the sappy humidity, that seemed to cling against your skin like tar.

So, each morning before the world would awake, you would sit on the rocking chair that your doting Joel made just for you, and you would drink your coffee, your tea, your chocolate milk- whatever you were in the mood for during that particular moment- and you would watch your front lawn come alive with bursting rays of light.

Occasionally, on a particularly quiet day, you would see a wild bunny hop through your yard, or a sweet black cat drag its side against the white picket fence of the house across the road.

You relished in these little interactions with nature. You craved them.

And when they were done, before the clock even had the chance to click past 8AM, you would climb back in to bed with your bear of a husband, wrap your arms around his back (which had inevitably turned away from your side through the night), and fall back into a peaceful snooze for the next hour or so, until the blaring alarm on Joel’s phone would begin ringing.

And then, he would awake.

Joel would turn to you, with a goofy, love sick grin on his face, and gently kiss your nose, pulling you flush against his warm, sleepy chest. His deep breaths would vibrate against you, his hands inevitably finding their way to the band of your panties or hem of your shirt, and you would spend the first half hour of your morning feeling his cock inside of you, or his fingers in your mouth, or his tongue against your clit.

Being married….. well now, that was a treat. One you would never get tired of devouring.

The clock had slowly been ticking towards 6 P.M.

Husband Joel would be walking in through those doors at any moment now, and you were still struggling through the recipe, the book propped up on the counter, the shiny pages now tarnished with the smears of paprika, melted butter- anything you had touched in the kitchen, really.

The house was alive with the smell of cooking chicken and boiling pasta. You had tried, and failed, to make garlic bread from scratch. You enjoyed cooking, but Joel never expected it, and what was what you loved.

He never treated you like his slave, or his subservient house wife. You were equals, partners. If whatever dinner you were cooking failed, he had no problem ordering chinese, or making you breakfast for dinner, fluffy pancakes and all.

The thought made your stomach grumble.

You figured today was a beautiful September day, and your husband was a wonderful husband, and he deserved some delicious fucking pasta when he walked through the front door.

When he walked through the front door…..

Sweaty from an honest days work, those curls slicked to his forehead, arms bulging beneath the tight sleeves of whatever old shirt he chose from his closet, worn and faded from the hand of the sun.

Oh, when he walked through that door….

Your knees were already growing weak.

You clutched the edge of the counter, nails gently digging in to the wood. You focused your eyes on the boiling pasta water, your mind wandering with thoughts of Joel. Always of Joel.

His hand had wrapped itself around your neck, belly pressed against the cool counter of the kitchen. The feeling of his fingers gently pressing in to your skin sent shock waves of pleasure rippling throughout, straight to your pussy. He hadn’t even touched you anywhere south of your tits.

Joel was kissing you like a starved man, his hot lips searing your skin, like a poker branding your skin with the mark of his love. His undying, unwavering, steadfast love.

“Joel,” you whimpered, “I need you. I need you to touch me.”

“Touch you where, babydoll? Here?” He asked, his fingers gently tweaking your left nipple. You shook your head no, stifling a moan. “Oh. Hmm. How about here?” He gently brushed his fingers against your belly, tickling your skin until a soft laugh erupted. You shook your head again. “I think I know where.”

Joel used his knee to spread open your legs, pressing you down flat into the counter, your cheeks now resting against the cold surface. His rough palms lay flat against your skin as he dragged them down to your ass, spreading them open as the searing heat of shyness spread through your chest.

“Let me see.” Joel pondered a faux thought, before a smirk overtook his face and he dipped his fingers into the soaked entrance of your cunt, knuckle deep as his body pressed against your back. You felt the outline of his hardening cock jutting through his tight boxers, a shiver running down your spine. “Here. Right?”

“Y-Yes!” You squealed, your nails digging into the wooden countertops. You felt it flaking beneath your grasp, and you knew an indent would be left. Oh well, you thought.

“That’s what I thought-”

Your deep, emphasis on the deep, thought was cut short by someone grabbing you quickly, showering your neck in familiar kisses.

“Joel!” You gasped, jumping as his hands made contact with you. You burst into a fit of laughter, his stubble tickling your jaw line as he spun you towards him.

And there he was. Just as you suspected.

His graying curls were soaked with sweat, framing the sides of his face ever so slightly, and a love sick, honey sweet grin reserved just for you was atop his perfect lips. The sun had almost set, and the amber light flooding in through the transparent curtains had shrouded his figure in a burst of light.

“Evenin’ my-” Joel paused, nose lifting into the air. “Somethin’s burnin-” The fire alarm cut him off, just in time.

“God dammit!” You turned around to see your chicken black as charcoal, smoke fanning from the pan. You were so lost in thought, you completely ignored the food. “Fuck!”

Joel had undone the fire alarm atop the ceiling quicker than you had fanned the smoke away, opening all the windows with a groan. You fell on the couch, dejected and annoyed, holding a crocheted pillow to your chest in a moment of well-deserved self pity. Joel turned to look at you, amusement behind his eyes.

“I was trying to make you a nice dinner!” You explained with a dramatic fling of your arms.

“Mhm… and what happened?” There was a sense of charming fun poking at his words.

“I was…. I was just, uh, I was thinking about some things.”

Joel was getting closer to you, his steps slow. “I’m sure. You are quite the thinker, sweet girl. What was it that was so important, you completely forgot about everything else?”

“Taxes!” You blurted out before you could even stop yourself.

He couldn’t help but laugh, sitting down beside you. His hand gently rubbed your stomach, down to your thighs, your body like jello beneath his touch. Joel’s face was close to yours now, his nose brushing against your cheek ever so slightly. “‘S that so?”

“Y-Uh…. mhm.”

“Now I trust you’d never lie to me.” His breath was hot on your face, and you shivered as his hands ran up and down your torso, paying extra attention to the hem of your sports bra.

“I wasn’t thinking about taxes.” You admitted, guilt evident on your face.

“There’s the truth. Now that’s daddy’s good girl. C’mere.” He patted his lap and you willingly obliged, straddling his thigh as Joel wrapped his strong arms around you, fingers finding the hem of your shirt and pressing against the small of your exposed back. “Now,” he brushed a stray piece of hair away, “what was it you were thinkin’ about?”

“You.”

“Me? Well darlin’, I am flattered. What about me?” His voice was low, right against your ear.

You ignored his question, tilting your neck instinctively as his lips found their way to your skin. You whimpered quietly the first time he kissed you, right beneath your ear, squirming against his denim clad thigh, thick and tantalizing beneath you.

Joel found the waistband of your leggings, slipping his fingers down your panties, into the sticky hot mess that had made itself home in your underwear. His index finger traced your folds, your cunt aching beneath his touch.

Right now, the world was him, and he was you, and your movements were one. Nothing else was as important to you as Joel Miller making you orgasm, over and over and over.

“Oh.” Joel tutted, removing his hand, ignoring the protests that escaped you. “I know what you were thinking about.” There was a charmingly sardonic pull to each of his syllables.

“Do you?”

“Mhm. You were thinking about me fuckin’ that tight little pussy. Weren’t you?”

A sharp breath caught in the back of your throat. You felt that coil, sharp and deep within you, just waiting to be cut, waiting to be relieved.

Even after all this time, Joel still sent shivers down your spine. He still made your knees weak, still made your heart flutter.

You remember people telling you he was too old for you, that he was going to slow you down. That, one day, the honeymoon phase would wear off, that one day it would feel like you had settled for an old man who you’d have to end up taking care of- that was many moons ago…

They couldn’t have been more wrong.

You looked into the eyes of Joel, his orbs darkening as he caught sight of you. He removed his fingers from the waistband of your pants, slowly moving them up towards your mouth, lips thick and glossy with desire.

“Suck.” He commanded.

You obeyed, gently grabbing his wrist with both your hands, inching his ring and middle finger slowly into your mouth. You made a spectacle, put on a show just for him, as you began swirling your tongue around the tips of his digits, giggling quietly as he hummed out in satisfaction. With his free hand, Joel gently grabbed the side of your head, his fingers running through your hair.

“Good girl. That’s my fuckin’ girl.”

You grounded yourself against his thigh, humming softly as he moved his hands to your waist, his grip tight, secure, protective.

“That’s right, grind that little pussy on my thigh. Give me a show, girl.”

You smiled at him, that charming, dazzling smile that made Joel’s heart pound, and slowly took your shirt off, your red bra on full display in front of him. Joel grabbed your tits, kneading them in his rough palms, calloused fingers gently pinching and twisting your nipples, the friction making you moan out.

“Been thinkin’ bout these all day.” Joel murmured, leaning forward and burying his face in the valley between each of your breasts. He groaned into your soft skin, licking a thick, hot strip up your neck as you moved against him. Your clit, swelling and screaming beneath the fabric of your underwear, dragged circles against his jeans as his bare hands grasped the curves of your hips, helping you move and sway against him.

“Joel.” You whispered, begging.

“What, honey? Use your words.”

“Fuck me.”

“‘S that what my pretty girl wants?”

“More than anything.”

Joel pushed you beneath him on the couch, the leather cool and comforting against your bare back. He looked at you, devouring you with his eyes. He was drunk on you now, orbs blown black like charcoal, lips tightened in a carnivorous snarl.

He was hungry.

“God damn, girl. Never gonna get tired of this view.” He moaned out your name as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your belly before taking your pants off, his thumb dragging across the soaked strip imprinted into your panties. Joel leaned forward, following the line his thumb made with his tongue, his ears perking at the sound of your moans.

Joel thumbed the skimpy fabric down your legs, his palms rubbing against your smooth skin, before he propped your legs on his shoulders, face to face with your throbbing, soaked pussy.

His index traced over your fold, watching as it became coated with your wetness.

“All for me?” He hummed out, the pad of his digit now grazing over your clit. It thrummed against his skin, your pussy clenching wantonly against nothing. “Guess I should do somethin’ about this, shouldn’t I? Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly to leave my lady hanging like this. All wet and ready for her daddy.”

You whimpered, lips pressed in a tight line, as you watched your husbands every move.

Joel leaned forward, his tongue flat against your clit, looking up into your eyes. He left his tongue there, no hint or movement, as the corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk.

“Please.” Your voice was pathetic, a quiet, distant plea.

“Ohh.” He chuckled between his syllables. “You want me to lick you? Want me to suck on this pretty clit if yours?”

“Please!” You repeated, practically a shout.

Joel chuckled, a deep, throaty, gorgeous chuckle, before wrapping his lips around your clit. His hit tongue swirled slowly around it, your pussy throbbing against his face. He moaned against you, hands grasping ahold of your thighs as he kept your legs apart, his mouth focusing on your pussy.

“Oh, Joel. Oh!” You ran your fingers through his graying hair, curls falling in his forehead as you held him there.

He pulled away, replacing his tongue with his fingers as he spread your lips open, exposing your cunt to his eyes. Joel ran a tongue over his lower lip, pushing into your tight hole with two of his digits, knuckle deep as he watched you squirm and moan for him. Your nails dug into the leather couch, marks you knew would inevitably be left there. You didn’t care right now. How could you? Joel had set you on fire, every nerve panting his name like a chant. No thoughts of the world, of taxes, of burnt dinner- only of him.

Your back arched against the couch as he ducked you with his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles around your button as he kissed his way up your belly and to your chest, stopping to pay extra care to your tight, stiff nipples. You watched as he sucked them, his every move burning in to your brain, before he came face to face with you.

The curve of his nose pressed into your own, the scruff of his cheeks burning against your face as he pressed his mouth onto yours, a deep, passionate kiss engulfing the both of you. He continued thrusting your fingers deep inside your pussy, yet your hands travelled lower, undoing the buckle of his belt, the zipper of his jeans, until all that separated his thick, throbbing cock from your pussy was the right black material of his briefs.

A shaky breath escaped you as he pulled his hand away, slowly moving it to your throat. Joel was careful not to apply any pressure, instead focusing his grip on the sides, a devilish smirk glimmering down at you.

“Use your words, baby. What do you want from me?”

“Cock. Please. Fuck me.” You were begging now, hips squirming into him.

Joel pulled away momentarily and you watched as his long fingers pushed down his underwear, a thick, veiny, angry cock falling out, slapping against your thigh with a quiet noise. He wrapped his fist around his dick, slowly pumping it with one hand as he held you in place by your neck with the other.

“I could just hold you here, ‘til I cum all over your belly.”

You groaned out in protest, dejected.

“Not want you want? Hmm. Oh. You want me to fuck you, don’t you? Want me to fill you up with my cum, ‘till it’s dripping out of you? Yeah, that’s what you want. I see it in your eyes, girl. You want me to pump you full of cum, fill this cunt right up.”

“Y-yeah.”

He shook his head no. “Mhm.” He warned, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. “Words.”

“Yes please.” You corrected yourself, watching as his handsome face became plastered with a smile.

“That’s more like it. See? Manners maketh man.” He teased, his cock now resting right at your entrance. He moved his hand from your throat, both his arms now at the side of your face, before filling you up with one swift push of his hips.

You were full to the hilt, the tip of his leaking dick pressing against your cervix, a jolt of pain, pleasurable and electrifying, rushing through you. Joel pulled away slowly, watching as the folds of your pussy spread again his shaft, a dirty and sexy sight just for him. He groaned, lip caught between his teeth as he started fucking you proper.

“So tight. So fuckin’ tight. You’re such a dream, darlin’. Such a fuckin’ pretty girl for me.”

Joel reached down, thumbing your clit. He watched the way your back curved off the couch, the way your baby hairs stuck to your forehead, the way your lips parted, singing their sinful song of lust- oh, Joel could’ve cum just from looking at you.

“Wanna cum.” You gasped for air, his fingers dancing against your button as he pounded in to you, hips on hips cracking like whips, sweat forming between your bodies, glueing you together like puzzle pieces.

“I’ll make you cum, honey. Don’t you worry.”

His cock was thrusting deeper and deeper, his tip hitting against that spot that made you shudder. Your shoulders rocked forward as you threw your arms around him, bringing him closer to you. You kissed him again, hungry and wanting, fingers knotting into his hair as you felt your belly clenching. Your cunt wept against his cock, and you felt your orgasm brewing.

“Gonna cum.” You whispered. “Gonna cum on you. Gonna- gonna-“ Your orgasm washed over you, hips thrusting into him as you came.

“Thatta girl. Good girl.” He cooed, his hand rubbing your belly gently. “Look at me.”

You looked at Joel, face slack with tiredness, your orgasm wiping the energy out of you. Nonetheless you held him tightly, legs tight around his waist, his movements now sloppy and wanting as he drove in to you.

When your eyes met, Joel’s face softened, the hint of a smile on his mouth. “So pretty.” He whispered, gently holding your throat again. “I love you, you know that?”

You nodded, rubbing your nose against his. “I know. And I love you.” You whispered, promising, smiling against his mouth as he kissed you once more.

“I’m gonna cum.” Joel snarled into your mouth as his cock twitched, spurts of hot cum painting the inside of your pussy, his body tensing as he held you close and tight, groaning your name into your hair. “Oh, fuck.”

You sighed into his chest as he fell into you, rough hands massaging the softness of your sides as Joel drew you in closer.

You laid against him, packed tight like sardines on the couch, before he looked down at you, eyes glimmering with a sparkle of amusement.

“So.” He began.

“So?” You giggled.

“What’re we gonna do about dinner?”

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel tlou

[wandasaura]

THE BEST THING THATS EVER BEEN MINE

summary — when you take the dogs to the park, jealousy takes control when wanda gets too comfortable with someone else.

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, the chaotic duo of lucky and fanny, domestic fluff bc i couldn't help myself, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, mommy kink, biting, love bites, oral fixation, teasing, slight humiliation, brief dumbification, jealousy, bratty reader, thigh riding, mentions of fingering, clothed sex, punishment, aftercare, men/minors dni

authors note — the promised second part to love is a ruthless game. jealous reader finally makes her appearance as requested!

You decided very quickly that however curious you were about adopting a dog, you never wanted Wanda to agree with that decision. Although the sun was already peaking past the horizon when Lucky came scratching at the guest room door,  effectively rousing not only you, but Natasha from sleep, it wasn’t even eight in the morning. It wasn’t often you woke up with the Russian still in bed beside you, typically being the last one to wake and the first to fall asleep, and now that you had her warm and soft beside you, you weren't even able to enjoy her clingy cuddles like you wanted. Lucky was persistent, his whines and whimpers thin but effectively audible despite the heavy door trying its best to block him out. Wanda’s voice echoed through the house in tandem with the pitiful whimpers, trying to beckon the pup back downstairs, but the retriever was adamant about wanting you awake. 

Natasha groaned beside you, her face shoved into the pit of your neck where the impeding sunlight was darkest. Her hair tickled your cheek as she wiggled further into you, soft breaths fanning across the expanse of your shoulder. You giggled softly at the sensation, twisting into her arms until you were chest to chest, then leaning in to press a kiss to her clothed skin right above where her beating heart laid. You sighed blissfully, thankful that Wanda has managed to distract Lucky, but knowing that despite the reclaimed silence, you’ll be unable to go back to sleep now that youre awake and focused on Natasha. 

“I love you.” You whispered against her chest, laughing when her lips puckered against the skin of your neck and kissed you sweetly albeit sleepily. She was always affectionate, always wanting to assure you know how loved you are, but you’ve discovered that when she’s tired theres no amount of physical contact that can satisfy her. As if determined to prove that statement, she tugs you closer into her chest, fingers loosely threading into the knotted ends of your hair.  “Do you need more lotion on your wrists?” You question softly, untangling your arm from between your chests so that you can trace the tips of your fingers along her cheekbones. 

As if she wasn’t sure about the question, Natasha rolled her wrists in circular motions, testing just how badly the irritated skin ached from the aftermath of being restrained. You scoffed amusedly, deciding that her answer wasn’t going to be trustworthy when she finally did respond. You pulled yourself away from her chest before she’d even returned her gentle grip to your hair and lower back, though you giggled when needy fingers poked and prodded at your ribs trying to get you to stay. 

“Come back.” She whined, rolling into the center of the bed, and although she was covered by blankets, you could make out the soft rising and falling of her chest as she turned onto her back and finally peeled her eyes upon to drink in the sight of you still messy from sleep. Your hair was frizzy, cheeks flush and adorned with indentations from the pillows prominent and deep against your skin. You slept like dead weight, but Wanda’s rustling always found a way to tousle strands of your hair that she inevitably got caught between. You looked like sheer beauty as sunlight dawned upon your features. “Duckling.” She pleaded, arms outstretched and pleading with you to step close enough to touch. 

You smiled fondly but remained persistent, already turning toward the door and leaving Natasha to lay amongst the ungodly amount of pillows and thin summer bedding as you searched for the lotion Wanda used last night. When you opened the door, you were met with the indicative sounds of breakfast being made down in the kitchen. The clattering of metal and plastic made you smile, still not accustomed to how a house could feel so lived in each and every day. It was a mystery what the Sokovian would be preparing as she clattered around in the kitchen accompanied only by Yelena’s dogs, but desperately you hoped that it was something sweet; sweeter than the fruit that she’d been forcing you and Natasha to eat everyday for the past three weeks. 

The bedroom was two doors down and directly across from Natasha’s office. Deciding that a detour wouldn’t hurt the already pouty woman, you broke away from your intended path and verged off into the office where paperwork and files sat meticulously stacked on the left side of her desk. The right side was dressed in personal items, namely a picture of the three of you from the Memorial Day barbeque, and little trinkets that you assumed came from Russia. You’d have to ask how frequently she visited her native country, noting that some of the figures on her desk looked shiny and new. You smiled softly when you noticed a ring sat beside her keyboard, knowing that it wasn’t hers, but Wanda’s. You wondered just how many small traces of them existed within the others personal spaces, but that would have to be a scavenger hunt for another day. 

You smiled softly when you pulled open her desk drawer, finding your now voided contract at the top of the pile she kept. You don’t think she’d ever part ways with it, telling you that it’s a reminder of how far she’s come since you met her last year, and you can’t disagree with her logic. The sticky notes she keeps are right beside it, all annoyingly mundane and lacking bright colors. Wanda’s the one with the plethora of color options, which had thrown you for a loop when you’d initially assumed Natasha was the fun one. Either way, you pulled a single piece from the pad, reaching for a pen that was laid across her other documents. You didn’t have the time to dwell on what you wanted to say, settling simply for the three words you loved the most and a deformed smiley face that would surely make her laugh. Natasha always did find amusement in your mindless doodles, something you found extremely endearing. You adhered it to the monitor of her desktop, assuring that none of the glue residue touched the actual screen because she’d surely lose it. When you were satisfied that it was in a place she wouldn’t miss, you slipped back into the hallway and carried on into the bedroom, eager to be back in her warmth for at least a handful of minutes before Wanda called you both down for breakfast. 

The bedding had been stripped from the bed, all that remained was naked pillows and the fluffy mattress that begged for your weight to sink into it. The collection of your clothes that had adorned the hardwood floor were all missing as well, and you assumed that in her need to find order, Wanda had thrown them in the washer as well. She really was horrible at letting a mess exist for longer then a handful of hours. With the sunlight bleeding into the room, adding warmth the wooden furniture and floors, all that remained from last nights scene was the bottle of lotion on the nightstand table, the other toys and instruments already cleaned and back in the combination locked briefcase. 

You freshened up in the bathroom, not wanting to linger in your sleepy state for any longer then you already had, and the water you splashed against your face felt exquisite after receiving so many licks and kisses from Fanny and Lucky yesterday. With your hair tied up into a ponytail and the rest of your routine completed in full, you left the bathroom behind you, eager to find Natasha once again. 

The Russian was in the same place that you’d left her in ten minutes ago, sprawled out on her back with wild red curls splayed angelically against the pillowcases in a fashion that was reminiscent of a halo. You grinned sweetly, climbing over her body until you could settle against her belly, not saving her the experience of your full weight plopping down on her in seconds. You giggled at her grunt, calloused hands holding onto your thighs as she peeled her eyes open and looked up at you with faux annoyance. 

“Wake up.” You more or less demanded, your bright smile significantly more electric than it had been when you’d first laid your eyes on her that morning. Natasha couldn’t resist smiling back, and her hands reached to rub at her cheeks as she forced herself awake. She and Wanda always resisted rubbing their eyes in the morning, claiming that it was damaging and not the best habit, but you couldn’t be swayed, and secretly, Natasha found it adorable when your closed fists dug into your eye sockets like a sleepy toddler as you stretched out the muscles in your body only to curl up into a tight ball again. “Wanda’s making breakfast.” You informed her gently, unscrewing the cap on the lotion and squeezing a generous amount onto your palms in the same fashion that you’d seen Wanda commit to. 

Unlike last night when she was adamant that all she needed was cuddles from her ‘two favorite girls’, Natasha didn’t fight against you when you reached for her wrist and held it tenderly in front of your chest. You inspected the irritated skin, pleased that although it was red and adored with the faintest traces of ligature marks, the skin wasn’t torn apart nor angry. You rubbed the lotion into her skin tenderly, not wanting to further irritate the area, and Natasha appreciated your efforts as she sighed in relief. You giggled, leaning forward to brush your lips against the tip of her nose before you repeated the process on her other wrist. 

“Can I bite you?” You questioned randomly, breaking the silence that had come to sit overtop of your warm bodies as you devoted your full attention to Natasha’s wrists. 

Amused, Natasha’s lips settled into her infamous smirk that always had you weak in the knees. The green within her eyes was sharp and calculated as she watched you play and twist at her fingers now that your initial task had been completed. “You’re going to bite me anyways.” Her voice was smooth as it reached your ears, not outright refusing your request of biting down on her fingers, but not entirely compliant with the idea. You smiled down at her eagerly, wanting to have her full permission before you sunk your teeth into her soft skin. “Once.” She agreed, nodding her head at your unasked question. She was never able to deny you when you looked so sweet and eager sat against her, and after all of your efforts to make her feel loved since coming down from the scene, she didn’t really want to say no anyway. She could handle your incessant need to bite her if it would make you happy, however her permission didn’t come without an ultimatum. “Then I’m sending you off to Wanda.” 

You laughed at her threat, but nodded anyways, bringing her fingers up to your lips. You kissed them sweetly, your lips soft and barely there as you just existed in this soft moment with her. Your delicacy didn’t last for much longer, and the second she had relaxed against the bed, your teeth sunk into her skin harshly; harsher then you’d ever even consider biting Wanda. You giggled at her yelp of shock, scrambling off her lap and out of the guest room before she could think about retaliating. 

You raced down the stairs, throwing caution to the wind as you forced yourself to forget about all the lectures Wanda had bestowed upon you about how dangerous to run down them. Natasha was hot on your heels, her footsteps light and calculated as she called for you to come back to her. The sounds of Wanda rummaging through cabinets became clearer with each step you took toward the kitchen, and when she was in sight, already showered and dressed for the day, you wasted not even a single second before you were throwing your arms around her torso and hiding your face in her chest just as she had spun around to find whatever the commotion was about. 

Lucky and Fanny barked with glee as you unintentially riled them up, their tails wagging as they made laps around the island, knocking into the chairs that sat on one side of the counter after each successful lap. Wanda gasped at your tight embrace, but one of her hands fall onto the small of your back without hesitance. 

“Save me.” You pleaded, looking up at her with wide eyes that held mischief and chaos. You didn’t spare Natasha a single glance when you heard her enter the kitchen, more than certain that she wouldn’t do anything with Wanda present. 

The Sokovian hummed thoughtfully, her eyes sparkling as she looked down at you with adoration clear in her sage stare. Her pink tinted lips quirked upward into an amused grin, scrambled eggs on the stove momentarily forgotten about despite how they sizzled and begged to be removed from the heat. “What did you get yourself into, moya utenok?” She grinned, tracing a gentle finger against the slope of your nose that felt ticklish before it was gone and her hand cradled the back of your head protectively. 

“Nothing!” You shook your head frantically, clinging closer to her chest when you felt Natasha come up behind you, her hands cold as they ran up the exposed skin of your thighs. There was disbelief written across Wanda’s expression, the sunlight bleeding in from the open window practically a spotlight as it highlighted each and every freckle that adorned her naked skin.

“The little devil bit me.” Natasha exclaimed though her voice was perfectly level as she held her hand up for Wanda to see, the sunlight falling into the soft craters your teeth left along her skin. You couldn’t help but giggle, looking up at Wanda with a bright expression on your face. 

“She said I could!” You explained mischievously, your eyes bright and enchanted as the organic light reflected across your face. Your entire disposition wasn’t dissimilar to the state of Lucky and Fanny who had begun to chase each other through the house, still hyper on your own excitement, though now they barrled into glass doors and walls each time they turned to bark at the other. “I asked nicely and she said I could, Mommy.” As your voice raised three octaves, so did your height as you pushed yourself up on your tippy-toes and left a sweet kiss on the corner of Wanda’s jaw, attempting to pull her beneath your trap as Natasha gasped at the scene. 

“Do not play the Mommy card you little minx!” You shrieked in laughter when Natasha grew tired of caressing your thighs, her cold hands taking you by the waist and pulling you back into her chest, though your eyes still lingered on Wanda who merely shook her head in amusement at the sight. You attempted to squirm away from Natasha’s fingers that dug into your ribs, but her grip was persistent around your waist, not allowing you freedom. 

Your eyes closed against your will, your head falling backward as laughter filled the kitchen alongside the barks and yelps of the puppies who didn’t understand what was going on, but wanted to be a part of the fun anyways. Fanny’s tail drummed against your shin as she circled your feet, but you had no time to show any attention to the retriever as Natasha blew a raspberry against your neck. Your laughter ended abruptly when in that same spot, her teeth sunk into your skin. A choked moan slipped past your lips as her tongue shot out to ease the spark of pain before you could even recongize its presence. Your fighting stilled, body falling slack against her chest as she trailed kisses up your neck before biting again, this time just below your ear. A shuddered whine fell off your lips as you craned your neck to the side, eager for her to do it again. The position allowed sunlight to kiss against your features, warm and welcoming as you basked beneath it. 

Natasha’s arms stayed tightly around your waist, but her teeth never left another impression amongst the smooth expanse of your neck. You whined softly when you realized she had no intentions of continuing, a pout taking over your lips as you peeled your eyes open and looked up at her pleadingly. 

Natasha leaned down to kiss the tip of your nose, but her unbroken stare as dangerous and calculated as she maintained eyecontact, her hand cupping your chin to assure you didn’t look away before she was willing to let this moment fall away into just another memory.  “Don’t forget who you belong to, malen’kaya.” 

You pouted deeper, wriggling out of her arms at the first instance that she allowed, instead seeking out Wanda who was thoroughly amused at the stove, an apron half tied around her waist and dusted with what you could only assume was powder from the pancake mix she’d thrown together. The Sokovian didn’t hesitate to wrap you up in a one-armed bear hug, keeping you flush to her chest as she flipped a pancake with a matte black spatula. Even their utensils matched the aesthetic of the kitchen, sometimes it felt like they had everything so meticulously planned out that not even an apocalypse could throw them off. You nuzzled your face into her neck, inhaling that fresh scent of grapefruit that lingers on the collar of her t-shirt, eyelashes tickling her skin as you let your eyes flutter closed. “You’re wife’s being mean.” You sulked against her, your voice muffled and thin as you listened to her heart beat evenly in your ear. 

You yelped in shock when a warning tap langed against your ass, entirely unexpected and harsh within your soft little moment. Your head shot up from Wanda’s neck, searching for Natasha who looked down at you with a challenging gaze. “Do you want to try that again, little one?” She questioned, arms crossed over her chest as she stood beneath the unfiltered sunlight that allowed the green in her eyes to shimmer like a million stars. Your head shook feverishly, fingers curling into Wanda’s shirt as you held her tighter, your lips turning downward into a pout as your body finally caught up with what had happened and the ache in your ass settled over your mind. One spank always hurt more then multiple, you’d never be able to understand why. “No, who?” 

You shrank into Wanda, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth as you fought between looking at Natasha and hiding away in the woman who kept a comforting hand against the small of your back, her thumb rubbing soft circles over the thin shirt adorning your otherwise naked body. When the words finally fell off your lips, they were no louder then a whisper. “No Daddy.” 

“That’s what I thought.” She muttered, nodding her head curtly before she turned toward the refrigerator and sought out the pitcher of fresh juice that Wanda routinely assured was fully stocked at the start of each new week. This week, she’d gone with grape juice from the local farmers market, and it was particularly tart when you were least expecting it. You whined softly, digging your face into the lawyers neck, fingers still keeping a tight grip on her shirt. 

Wanda, feeling no sympathy for you, merely patted your back encouragingly. “You shouldn't have started a game you didn’t want to play, dorogaya.” You whined, shaking your head against her neck. Wanda wasn’t in the mood to play into your game, and her hand on your back trailed across your spine until it sat firmly against your hip, her ring clad fingers squeezing warningly. “Don’t get fussy with me. You’re the one who bit your Daddy. What did I say about biting?” 

You pouted, just wanting one of them to take pity on you, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards for you this morning. Lifting your head from Wanda’s neck, you met her eye and meekly muttered, “That you’d bite me back.” 

Smiling softly, Wanda kissed the top of your head, her lips lingering for a second longer than necessary, but you’d never complain, reveling in the soft touch. “Exactly. Now go help Daddy set the table. I was thinking we can take the dogs to the park today. Yelena left their leashes and I’m sure Natasha had a couple balls laying around here somewhere.” 

You’d never even considered taking the dogs out for a play, but as the suggestion rolled off of Wanda’s lips you nodded eagerly, tightening your grip on her shirt as you practically bounced on your toes and forced your chests closer together, practically one body beneath the radiant glow of summer sunlight. You’d miss it when fall came around, and the soft glow adorning your girlfriends skin dissipated into nothingness. “Can we go to the park with the big fields? Lucky will love that!” 

Wanda smiled at your excitement, glad to see a smile gracing your features again. “If you get your little ass in the dining room and help Natty, I don’t see why not.” She laughed, laying another little kiss on your forehead before you had the chance to untangle yourself from her completely and dart off in the direction that Natasha had trailed off in. 

“Deal!” You giggled in excitement, your sockless feet pounding against the hardwood floors as you made a break for the dining room, unintentionally colliding with Natasha who had only just turned around to grab the needed silverware for your breakfast of pancakes and eggs. You didn’t find it necessary to step away form the lawyers chest, standing right before her with anticipation clear on your smiley face. Your arms extended at your sides, palms raised toward the ceiling as you bellowed, “Natty, we’re going to the park!” 

“I heard, detka.” Natasha laughed at your excitement, gently taking your arms into her hands and holding them closely to her chest. Her lips pressed soft kisses against your wrists. “I also heard that you needed to help me with the table.” 

“Yeah.” The smile on your lips didn’t leave fully, but it dimmed as you pulled away and began the search for Wanda’a favorite cutlery, because leave it to the lawyers to have multiple sets all intended for different events and holidays. “Do you think Fanny will run away if we let her off the leash?” 

“She won’t run away.” Natasha laughed, dragging her fingers against the small of your back as she joined you beside the long dresser filled with different assortments of serving plates and utensils. She pointed toward the intended set, and you collected three forks and knives with a hum, unable to contain your excitement. 

-

The beating sun fell harshly against your sunscreen slathered skin, provoking sensations of warmth and comfort as you and Natasha chased after the softball she’d dug out of the garage. Lucky had decided that your game of fetch was no longer worth his attention, and had retreated back to Wanda’s side after you’d thrown the ball far off into the field for the umpteenth time. Your laughter bellowed through the park as Natasha bumped her hip against yours, sending you sidewalks on your walk to retrieve it. 

Although the grass was luscious and green, concealing many lost toys and objects, the lime colored ball stuck out like a sore thumb just inches ahead of you. The hours had rolled by quickly, afternoon soaking up the last of its stretches as nightfall became an approaching promise that no amount of pleading could stall. You’d spent the last four hours beneath the rays of delicate light, enjoying the practically abandoned park for what it was. Birds chirped at the very tops of tall trees, squirrels carried acorns across the sidewalk and scurried up the bench only to drop them and begin the process over again, only occasionally did another dog owner come trailing through and stopped for friendly conversation, but Wanda always responded eagerly. You hadn’t had a day this simple in weeks, spending most of your time either out beside the pool or trailing after your girlfriends as they tagged each other in to be CEO for the day. It felt utterly domestic to be beside them surrounded only by nature and traffic sounds, far away from paperwork and the house that had begun to feel confining. You soaked every second up eagerly, knowing it would end far too soon. 

You reached for the ball when you were close enough, batting away Natasha’s hands as she fought to retrieve it first. The Russian laughed loudly when you attempted to shove her body out of the way, yet despite all of your strength being put behind the shove, she remained perfectly in place. You huffed, but quickly your lips curled into a grin when the ball was safely between your fingers. Natasha merely rolled her eyes because you both knew that she had let you win despite her dirty tricks. You spun around to show Wanda, your smile wide with pride, but your eyes didn’t find the Sokovian alone beside the bench where the bag of treats and water was left. Instead, you found her in deep conversation with a woman she looked all too comfortable beside. 

You weren’t a jealous person, you could let a lot fall off your shoulders, but there was something about the way she was talking with the stranger that made your belly sick with envy. The green eyes you’d fallen in love with were creased around the edges, bright and full of radiant light as she continued on with the conversation that had her laughing. Her head was inclined to the side in that same dominating manner that she’d bestowed upon you mere hours ago, and although one of her hands scratched at Fanny’s coat, the other reached out to brush against the stranger's forearm. She wasn’t Wanda as she stood beneath the dark shadows branches on the tallest tree in the park projected, she was Mommy. Your smile fell quickly, the ball no longer anything interesting. 

Natasha’s hand falling onto the small of your back startled you enough for the ball to fall back into the blades of grass, slipping through your fingers like it wasn’t really there at all. You watched it slip into the tall blades, nearly concealed entirely, and you made no attempt to retrieve it as you turned your frown in her direction, the falling sun still bright enough to force you to squint as the light hit your eyes. The Russian laughed softly, her thumb rubbing softly against your clothed skin. “Got a problem, moya lyubov’?” There was a mischievous gleam in her equally squinted eyes, and you took the time to notice that surrounded by the clear blue skies and open fields, the color around her pupils was electric and undeniably green.

“Mine.” You huffed out, wanting to wriggle your body if only to make a point that you were unhappy with the entire arrangement happening before you. Your slitted eyes trailed over to Wanda once more, but the Sokovian was still oblivious to your heavy stare.

“Yeah, she’s yours, dorogaya. But, she’s also friends with Daisy.” Natasha smiled understandingly, her hand on the small of your back guiding you closer into her side. She wraps you up entirely, her cheek falling onto the top of your head as the both of you steady your glances on Wanda, and apparently Daisy. You decide quickly that you don’t like the latter. “She’s still yours, nothing is going to change that.” 

“I wanna go home.” You pout, aware that you’re being petulant, but not willing to change your mind as you detangle yourself from her arms and collect the softball without so much as a nod of acceptance from Natasha. 

It takes seventeen steps exactly to end up directly beside where Wanda’s standing with Daisy, you count each and every one as your feet pound against innocent blades of summer fresh grass. You’ll miss the softness that squishes beneath your feet when winter rolls around and everything becomes muted and harsh, but for now, you’re content to overlook the beauty of this moment in favor of getting out as quickly as you can. 

“Hey, utenok.” Wanda smiles sweetly down at you, her hand brushing against your forearm as she attempts to draw you into her side. You shrug off her touch, lips settled into a scowl as you make your way toward the bag packed with everything you could possibly need for not only the dogs, but for yourselves. You’ve been snacking all day, the tupperware of strawberries and pineapple nearly empty as you and Natasha had shoved your mouths full of the fruit an hour into your park visit. 

“We’re going home.” You say curtly, already holding onto the two solid purple leashes that would soon be attached to the solid black collars adorning the puppies necks. Wanda’s eyebrows raise not only in question, but in challenge, your dynamic having lingered in the air since that morning, but you weren’t willing to submit anymore. 

“Oh, are we?” She hums, both her and Daisy turning to watch you as you beckon Fanny and Lucky to your sides, fingers already clamping around their collars and clipping the leashes to them. You're as gentle as you can be, but Fanny’s wriggling around makes it harder to attach. You sigh in frustration, getting down on your knees to softly coax the retriever into momentary stillness. “That’s my cue Daisy.” Wanda decides to give into your decision, if only to uncover the reason behind your attitude if nothing else. You merely huff when Daisy says goodbye to not only Wanda, but you, her black painted fingernails wiggling softly beneath the setting sun before she’s back to jogging down the path, her ponytail swinging with every step she takes. 

“Nat!” You call for the Russian, watching her frolic through the field like you hadn’t told her you wanted to leave. The softball is between her fingers, and every couple of minutes she throws it back up into the air and lets it crash against her palm. Her sharp eyes find you smugly, but you’re in no mood to let her win. “Let’s go!” 

“I don’t like this little attitude, detka.” Wanda warns evenly, her eyes slitted into dangerous daggers as she peers down at you dominatingly. You merely huff at her stance, only able to picture her standing in such a way in front of Daisy. When you don’t bend like you typically do, she cocks her head to the side, green eyes begging to understand what’s happened in the last ten minutes. “What’s the problem, you were having such a good time.” 

Unable to help the eyeroll that follows her question, you don’t even bother looking up at her as you begin to set your pace for the entrance of the park, both leashes tightly between your fingers. “What does it matter to you.” You mutter, just barely able to step around her before her hand is grabbing onto your wrist and keeping you still. 

Wanda pulled you back to her chest, assuring that you wouldn’t move before she let her words slip against the softest area of your neck, chills falling down your spine as her breath tickled your sensitive skin. Her words were dangerous, calculated even, but all you could picture was her hand on Daisy’s arm when she should’ve been paying attention to you. “I would think about who you’re talking to like that, detka.” She warned, but you merely huffed and tugged your arm free. 

“Leave me alone.” You snapped, fingers curling possessively around the two leashes in hand. Lucky and Fanny, who had been more than thrilled to go on a walk, pulled at their leads with eager excitement, their golden tails wagging in tandem with the other. You didn’t fight against them, letting them lead you in the direction of the entrance, not even craning your head to assure that Wanda and Natasha were following. 

-

Much to Wanda’s annoyance, your attitude seemed to be around for the long haul. Dinner was an awkward affair, filled only with the sounds of silverware clanking against plates and the occasional comment from Wanda who had given you several chances to amend your little issue. You weren’t receptive to any of it, though each attempt dampened your panties that were now stuck uncomfortably to your throbbing core. Her hand had fallen firmly against your thigh halfway through dinner, and she spared you no ounce of pain as she squeezed the sensitive flesh each time you had the courage to roll your eyes at her or even worse, Natasha. The Russian had been merely collateral damage, but every time she chimed in at Wanda’s defense, you found yourself growing more annoyed, but worse than that, sexually frustrated. Despite the scene last night, neither of them had touched you, and with Wanda’s hand lingering so close to where you needed her, that fact had turned you into putty quickly. 

Yelena had come to pick the dogs up just after eight, only sticking around for long enough to inform Natasha of the grueling activities she’d been forced to oversee for her company’s annual donation fair. You’d never understand what it was that Yelena did exactly, but each time she talked about the job that kept her busy and moving, it was always with exuberant pride and happiness. You were happy for her little life that she adored, but you were even happier when she left and you could throw yourself at Natasha with a bruising and desperate kiss. 

Your arms looped around her neck, chests flush together as you swiped your tongue across her bottom lip, hardly caring that you were making out with the highest profile lawyer in the world right beside the open window. Anyone who was unfortunate enough to pass by could see how desperately your fingers curled into the curls at the nape of her neck, your hips having a mind of their own as you attempted to push your bodies into one. Natasha was more than receptive to your embrace, but the second you thought you’d won the fight for dominance, she backed you up against the wall, your wandering hands pinned above your head. 

“You’re not mine to have tonight, d'yavolenok.” Her hot and heavy breaths fall across your lips as she settles her forehead against yours, effectively ending whatever you had anticipated to come from the impromptu kiss. You whined, hips arching off the wall and pushing into hers, desperate to change her mind, but there was no winning tonight. The only way you were getting even an ounce of pleasure was through Wanda, and the Sokovian sat unamused on the couch, not even attempting to join in on the game you’d initiated. 

“I want you, Daddy!” You whined, pouty eyes searching for hers, but Natasha had already made up her mind, and as quickly as her hands had pinned your wrists, the touch was falling away and she was walking back toward the couch where her body sank in without protest. Wanda didn’t make any move to embrace the Russian, but it didn’t seem like Natasha had expected her to, because she curled into the arm of the couch and settled her attention on the television, entirely uninterested in your high pitched whines and stompy feet.  

“If you want something, I suggest you end your little tantrum and bring your ass over here, dorogaya. I will not tell you again to cut it out.” Wanda’s voice is stern and cold, but your feet find their way closer to her either way. You don’t ask before you settle into her lap, a pout on your lips as you press your face into her neck and hold onto her tightly. She doesn’t push you away like you’d anticipated, but you should’ve known by now that Wanda would never push you away, still the fear lingers in your mind anytime you push against her authority. Instead of handling you harshly like you’d thought would happen, her hand comes up to cradle the back of your head tenderly while her other hand settles on the small of your back beneath the t-shirt adorning your torso. Her skin is warm, not entirely cold but not exceedingly hot either. She feels perfect against you, but there's more that you want, and she’s making no indication that she’s going to give it to you. “Do you want to tell me what’s got you so fussy?” 

When you don’t answer, Wanda’s fingers tangle into your hair and pull your face away from her neck sharply. A guttural moan falls off the tip of your tongue as your head cranes backward and your eyes flutter closed. Your hips, still with a mind of their own, twitch against the thigh you’ve found a seat on, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your lower belly that rages with a fire demanding to be extinguished. “I made myself very clear, utenok. I’ve been very lenient with this attitude of yours, do not be so foolish as to think I won’t have you over my lap in the next thirty seconds.” 

You whined at her words, hips still grinding against her thigh. You’d never found yourself in this position before, never desperate enough to search for release against her thigh adorned with only freckles and the lingering presence of sunscreen, but there’s not a single coherent thought in your brain that tells you to stop and maintain the little dignity you have left. Your shorts are thin, your panties even thinner as they become soaked through entirely, and each pass of your hips against her skin feels beyond pleasurable. “M-Mine.” You just barely get the words past your lips before Wanda’s pulling at your hair again, provoking a shuddered whine that sounds entirely too high-pitched to have fallen from your lips. 

Wanda’s silent for a moment, but when she speaks again, your cheeks flush pink and you whine in embarrassment. Hearing her verbally address what’s been bothering you makes it seem so pathetic. “Is this little attitude of yours about Daisy?” She questions, the hand in your hair slipping away to instead hold tightly to your chin, forcing your eyes to meet hers beneath the lamplight drowning the living room. 

“Mine.” Your whimper is soft, entirely breathy as you search her eyes, pleading with her to understand. Wanda merely hums, a soft smile gracing her lips that had been pressed into a thin unimpressed line before she’s drawing you closer and slotting her lips against yours in a passionate embrace. You groan into her mouth when her tongue, hot and light, swipes across your bottom lip. You don’t fight her for dominance, instead allowing your lips to fall slack and accept the presence of her in your mouth. She searches every part of you with passion, her hands falling down to your hips at some point, dragging you against her thigh with intent, helping you find a steady rhythm whilst simultaneously distracting you with a bruising and head swimming kiss. 

You only pull away when you can’t handle both sensations of pleasure at once, your head swimming in fuzzy thoughts as your hips begin to stutter desperately against her thigh. Your shorts are equally as drenched as your panties, and you’re sure that with each forced drag of your hips she can feel the wetness seeping into her skin, hot and sticky with desire. You’re so painfully close, but the stimulation isn’t enough. “M-More.” You pant, head thrown back as your eyes flutter closed, your fingers tangling into her hand that’s hanging loosely down her shoulders. 

Wanda merely laughs at your desperation, the sound cruel and entirely condescending as it pairs with your desperate whines and moans. “Oh, honey. Did you really think I was going to give it to you easily? My poor little duckling, no. Either you cum on my thigh, or you don’t cum at all. Only good girls get what they want.” She taunts, dragging her teeth against the expanse of your neck, humming in contentment when you release a shaky sigh, your fingers grabbing at her desperately. 

“I-I can’t!” You cry out weakly, your hips losing their rhythm as you try to chase the pleasure that's ebbing away with each failed thrust. Her hands have stopped guiding you, sitting heavy on your thighs that frame her waist. 

“My dumb little baby needs Mommy’s help with everything, huh?” The Sokovian ridicules, but her hands find a home on your hips either way, beginning to guide your pace again. She’s ruthless, quick with her motions and entirely controlling, but it gets you back at the top of that mountain of bliss in seconds, and your whines of frustrations become moans of desperation. You’re so close, so painfully close that you can taste the wisps of pleasure that dance across your vision, but it’s still not enough. Wanda’s enjoying herself entirely, each rock of your hips forcing your body to roll against her own dripping core, and the sounds of Natasha’s moans fill your ears albiet vaguely, your own pleasure drowning out the sounds of hers. Still, you don’t even have to look at the Russian to know that her hand has disappeared beneath her shorts and her fingers are glistening with her own arousal. “Come on, detka. Cum for Mommy, be a good girl.” 

Your moans become frantic when Wanda flexes her thigh beneath your weight, giving you just the right addition of something more. Thatall it takes for you to fall off the edge and cum on her thigh, your panties absolutely saturated in pleasure when you finally stutter to a stop against her chest. The Sokovian’s moans are broken and soft as her head tips backward and she meets the same fate as you. You sink against her chest, pushing closer into her as you whimper in sensitivity, trying to wiggle away from her thigh and settle fully in her lap. 

“Mine.” You whisper against her skin, inhaling the traces of grapefruit that have dissipated throughout the day, but if you focus on her scent hard enough, the faintest tinge of fruit still linger around the collar of her shirt. Your hand searches for hers, and she allows you to grab onto it easily, guiding up to your lips as your eyes flutter close and you embrace the darkness that comes with it. Her thumb is heavy against your tongue as you bite at it softly. 

“All yours, detka. Just yours.” Wanda promises, her lips ghosting across the top of your head when she adjusts the position she’s in so that she can lean against Natasha’s chest, assuring that you're safe against her chest as her own eyes flutter closed. “Nothing is going to change that.” 

The hand that isn’t held captive dips beneath your shirt again, and her nails scratch soft lines across your spine as you melt further into her, eyes only peeling open when you become desperate to hear the same reassurances from Natasha. “Mine.” Your words vibrate against Wanda’s skin, and the lawyer smiles fondly down at you.  “You’re mine, sweetheart.” Natasha’s hand falls gently onto your cheek, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone as she holds you tenderly. “You’re ours.”

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